Soldiers of Ruin

by Stephen L. Nowland

  A curious scraping sound from across the room caught his attention, and as he sat up in bed, he noticed Sir William standing before a mirror, mounted on the wall above a small basin. The old knight was intently shaving the skin around his broad moustache with a sharp razor, dipping it into the water after each pass to clean it of the grey bristles it had accumulated.

  “Ah, he finally awakens,” Sir William chuckled, glancing over at Aiden. “My apologies if I disturbed you, my friend. The room I slept in was bereft of conveniences beyond a soft bed.”

  “That’s fine,” Aiden croaked, taking a moment to unfasten the straps holding his breastplate in place and setting it to one side.

  “You could probably use a shave yourself, unless you’re planning on growing that beard properly,” the knight continued as he wiped his face with a small towel. Aiden ran a hand over the stubble on his cheeks, having been too busy lately to really pay any attention to his appearance.

  “I’ll take a look at it later, perhaps,” he replied without conviction.

  “I imagine you’ve never shaved before, being a young man as you are,” Sir William remarked insightfully. “I’ll give you a few pointers. If you truly wish to grow a beard, you’ll want to shave a few times to thicken it up.” Unable to think of a reasonable excuse, Aiden pushed aside the blankets and walked over to stand before the mirror. It was the first time he’d looked at himself in a while, and his scraggly beard was laughably thin.

  “The important thing to remember is to go with the grain, as it were,” the old knight began as he guided Aiden through the procedure. It was straightforward enough, and despite a few nicks and cuts a painless enough process. It was also bittersweet for Aiden, as this was something his father would most likely have shown him, had the two of them been on speaking terms. But years of ‘differences of opinion’ had culminated in Aiden leaving home, and the two men had hardly spoken since.

  “You seem sad,” Sir William observed as Aiden wiped down his now smoothly shaven face. “Were you that attached to your fledging beard?”

  “Not really,” he replied quietly, “I had just hoped someone else might have shown me how to do this.”

  “Family troubles, I assume?”

  “Yes… I had a falling-out with my parents a few months ago. I won’t bore you with the details, but thank you for stepping into my father’s shoes for a moment,” Aiden answered with a wan smile.

  “I am honoured to have the opportunity to act in his stead,” Sir William said with a slight inclination of his head. “Being able to pass on such simple knowledge, in a way, makes you the son I never had, so consider us even in this regard.”

  “How are you doing this morning, anyway?” Aiden asked, a little self-conscious after the moment of male bonding.

  “Well enough,” Sir William replied gruffly. “I suspect you are referring to my state of mind after my little outburst the other day. Damnable self-indulgence on my part, if I may say.”

  “Nonsense, you had good reason for it considering the loss of your friend.”

  “Be that as it may,” Sir William protested, “I am not prone to dwelling mournfully on things that cannot be changed, and I will try to avoid such displays in future. Regardless of how events have shaped my life, I am blessed to have the opportunity to serve now, in whatever capacity I am able. Without our intervention, Alain would surely have perished in the depths of that ruin, and we must thank the good graces of Kylaris for guiding us to him.”

  “I prefer to think my incompetence played some small part,” Aiden added ruefully.

  “It’s all part of The Plan,” Sir William assured him. “In short, my faith is restored, and you can count on my assistance in all matters, my friend.”

  “Including personal grooming, as it happens,” Aiden remarked. The bedroom door opened, and Maggie’s head peered around the edge from doorknob height.

  “I thought I heard you two chatting away,” she observed dryly. “Come and have something to eat — we need to head out as soon as possible.”

  “Is something wrong?” Aiden asked, suddenly concerned.

  “Of course there is,” Maggie replied with a withering look. “We were nearly marooned in some ancient cave, right on the cusp of dealing with my order. I’ve been very patient with you, but we are heading down there today before the situation can escalate any further and I will tolerate no more diversions, distractions, or tasks you deem important. You owe me, Aiden Wainwright, and I am calling in the debt!”

  “I’m sorry we’ve been side-tracked a little too often,” Aiden apologised, “and I give you my word we’ll deal with your problem today, guaranteed.”

  “Even if Alain does have that sceptre we’re looking for?”

  “If by some chance he has the Sceptre of Oblivion, I’ll have Sir William take it back to Fairloch while we assist you in Feybourne,” Aiden assured her.

  “You would send me away while a friend is in need of aid?” Sir William protested.

  “I could trust nobody else with such a powerful relic, and I mean to fulfil my vow to Maggie,” Aiden explained, unrepentant.

  “Enough conjecture,” the raelani druid said with finality. She disappeared into the hallway again, and Aiden and the knight followed along, catching up with her in the laboratory of all places.

  Casually leaning in a large chair was Ronan, who sat at a table cleared of paraphernalia, replaced with plates of food. Busily serving up breakfast was a young woman dressed in servant’s attire, who began ladling out a thick stew for the newcomers. The aroma was tantalising.

  “Morning,” Ronan said as he noticed the rest of them enter. “This is Mildred, one of Alain’s servants, who has been looking after the place while he was indisposed.” Mildred bobbed her head briefly, but remained silent. She was thin, and her dark hair was drawn back in a tight bun, giving her a rather severe appearance.

  “Thank you,” Aiden murmured as he accepted a bowl from the shy girl. “Any particular reason we’re eating in the workshop?”

  “It was at my insistence, sir,” Alain called from the hallway just before he entered the workshop. Like Aiden, he had clearly slept in clothes covered in muck from his days in the mysterious ruin beneath the earth.

  “You’re looking… just terrible,” Maggie remarked, unable to lie.

  “The hangover of all hangovers I’m afraid,” Alain croaked. “That wine was quite potent and were circumstances different, I would have shown a modicum of restraint. Mildred, leave us to speak in private.”

  “Of course, milord,” Mildred replied softly with a quick curtsey.

  “I know you’ve other important affairs to tend to, so I will keep this brief,” Alain sighed as he sat into an old chair near the fireplace. “Without you, I’d most likely be stuck in that damnable place for the remainder of my life, and I want to reward you for your efforts.”

  “You know,” Ronan mused, “I think you could have made your own way out. I don’t know how you walked on the ceiling the way you did, but what was stopping you walking through those caves above the tunnels?”

  “I tried that on the first day,” Alain dismissed casually. “It was practically impossible to gain a footing on the walls of that cavern.” He pulled back his trousers and showed them his footwear, a pair of dark leather boots with gold stitching and a small gemstone at the back, near the heel.

  “Enchanted to walk on any surface,” the explorer confided. “Not quite adequate to the task unfortunately, and I daresay those caves would have gone on for some time. Indeed, given the unique nature of our entry into the complex, it is entirely possible those caves do not connect to the surface. I shall have to investigate it more in the future, but for now, I have a gift for each of you.”

  “Firstly, to Miss Fairweather, I have this pendant,” he said, pulling a necklace out from under the lapel of his shirt, revealing a tiny, sparkling diamond surrounded by jade.

  “It’s beautiful,” Maggie breathed, moving forward for a closer look. Aiden nar
rowed his eyes and shifted his vision, confirming his belief that it was bathed in a powerful aura of magic, as were the boots.

  “An ancient elven relic, capable of averting death for the wearer, but only once,” Alain said, holding it fondly in one hand. “I discovered it in a deserted temple years ago, and have been wearing it ever since, though I am pleased to say I never needed it.”

  “Thank you, I’m rather speechless,” Maggie replied as Alain handed it to her. She strung it around her neck and gazed down at the diamond, clearly taken with its appearance more than any other properties it might have.

  “Sir Knight, I see your equipment is a little antiquated,” Alain continued, looking at Sir William’s armour that was stacked neatly in the corner.

  “It has served me well these many years and in the case of my sword, I believe its age is actually a boon rather than a burden,” he replied gruffly.

  “Yes, I can see that it’s fashioned from auldsteel, and its value is truly beyond measure. I thought you might like to make use of a shield that would be a worthy companion,” Alain offered, pointing to a large round shield that hung from the wall behind them. Its finish was almost mirror-like, and carefully engraved with subtle lines that gave it a remarkable beauty. “It is fashioned from precious vythir, a gift from the dwarves after some work I did for them over a decade ago.”

  “I... its value must be incredible,” the old knight stammered. “I thank, but I cannot accept it.”

  “Nonsense,” Alain blustered. “It was designed to be used, not hung from a wall and forgotten. I can see you are a gentleman, and as such it would be rude of you to refuse.”

  “Well, when you put it that way,” Sir William conceded, stepping forward to retrieve the shield from its place on the wall.

  “While he’s getting that down from there, I’d like to offer you something, Aiden,” Alain continued. “I didn’t have anything specific in mind, so why don’t you take your pick?” Although he knew this was coming, Aiden only had one thing in mind.

  “Have you come across, or at least heard of the ‘Sceptre of Oblivion’ in your travels?” he asked, hoping against hope that the explorer knew what he was referring to. Alain seemed to ponder the question for a moment, and Aiden felt his heart sink in his chest as the seconds went by.

  “I can’t recall coming across anything by that specific name,” Alain slowly replied, “and I think I would remember a name like that. Where did you come by this curiosity?”

  “A treatise on relics and the like, currently in possession of the Crown,” Aiden explained. “It’s an obscure work, and the existence of the sceptre itself was only discovered earlier this year. Part of the reason we’re in this region is to try and recover it from Feybourne, and I had a slim hope you might have already discovered it, or at least have a notion as to its whereabouts.”

  “I am very sorry, but the nature of this artifact eludes me,” Alain shrugged helplessly. “So, you’re planning on venturing into Feybourne?” Aiden nodded, prompting the explorer to pause in further thought. “On my last journey through the ruins, I came across a part of the city that was protected by a kind of arcane barrier I was unable to bypass.”

  “What was it protecting?” Aiden asked, suddenly intrigued.

  “I believe the arch mage’s tower lies beyond that barrier, the only part of the city I’ve never been able to enter. The trinkets I’ve recovered on past expeditions pale in comparison to what must lie within that ancient edifice, and I can see by your expression that you have come to the same conclusion I have — your sceptre would most likely be therein.”

  “All the more reason for us to hurry along,” Maggie prompted with a meaningful glance at Aiden.

  “I’m sorry I could not be of more assistance,” Alain apologised, “but I still insist you pick something to take as a reward.”

  “Do you still have that gauntlet you found in the reliquary?” he inquired after a moment’s thought.

  “Of course,” Alain assured him.

  “I’d like to take it, if you don’t mind.”

  “That old thing? You do realise it’s probably over a thousand years old, right?”

  “I wasn’t intent on wearing it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Aiden pointed out. “I think it’s a remarkable artifact and I’d like to study it further.”

  “As you wish,” Alain shrugged doubtfully. “I can see that you and I are very much alike, but I should warn you that whoever made that gauntlet knew how to keep their language a secret, for nobody has even been able to translate it.”

  “I’d still like to have it,” Aiden said.

  “Then it is yours,” Alain declared, reaching behind him to the desk where he had placed the relic, and handing it over to Aiden. “May its secrets fail to drive you mad.”

  Aiden held the ancient gauntlet in his hands for a long moment before his hunger demanded he continue eating.

  “Now, Ronan,” Alain said, turning to the sailor. “I’ve been trying to think of something—”

  “I’ll take the boots, thanks,” the sailor said without hesitation.

  “I… my boots, you say?” Alain hedged. “Are you certain I can’t interest you—”

  “Boots, please,” Ronan reiterated.

  “I’m not even sure they’ll fit you, to be honest.”

  “I can tell just by looking at you that you’ve got the same size feet as me,” Ronan said. “I can have anything I want, right?”

  “Well… of course,” Alain relented, pulling his precious boots off and handing them to the sailor. Maggie was the only one not watching with interest, as her attention was drawn to the nearby window. As such, she missed out on Ronan placing one foot on the wall and walking upward.

  Although silent, Ronan’s smile practically took in his ears as he walked up to the ceiling and across to the window, hanging upside down as if it was nothing.

  “I’m going to miss those,” Alain muttered.

  “Looks like we’re in for some stormy weather,” Ronan remarked, looking out the window while standing directly above Maggie, who seemed to be transfixed upon something outside.

  “That’s no ordinary storm,” she breathed as a ripple of distant thunder echoed over the land. Her voice sent a shiver up Aiden’s spine and he leaned over to peer out the window to see the blackest clouds he had even seen billowing towards the city. “We are too late — the attack on the city is starting!”

  “Who’s attacking the city?” Alain asked, completely bewildered.

  “The druids of Feybourne strive to return this land to its natural state,” Maggie explained hastily. “We need to find them and stop the conclave before they succeed. We have to go, now! Ronan, we need supplies.”

  “Gotcha,” Ronan replied, running along the ceiling, down the wall and onto the floor as he sped out the door.

  “Sir William, let me help you suit up,” Aiden offered as the wind began to pick up and a flash of lightning lit the sky.

  “Right away,” the old knight replied. “Mister Dufort, it has been an honour,” he said to Alain, shaking his hand firmly before hurrying out the door to his room.

  “The honour is mine, sir,” Alain said, looking to all of them as he spoke. “Go quickly, and take what you need from downstairs — consider it my contribution to your cause.”

  “I will go and fetch our horses from the inn stables, and we’ll meet at the south gate,” Maggie said as she dashed out the door. A bolt of lightning flashed in the sky and moments later, thunder shook the house.

  Aiden help the knight suit up and once his own breastplate was strapped on, they were ready to go within minutes. Once they had gathered their equipment, they hurried downstairs to meet up with Ronan, who had filled a sack with fresh bread, cheese and sausages for their journey.

  When Aiden opened the front door of the house, they were blasted by the storm assailing the city. Aielund always experienced cold winters, but the intensity of this storm was like nothing he’d ever seen. The three men
moved hastily through the busy streets to the south gate, where Maggie stood trying to keep the horses calm in the increasingly violent weather.

  “Follow me as we ride south,” Maggie yelled over the howling winds. “This storm is being created by my brethren, so I will be able to find their exact location.”

  “Where’s your cat?” Aiden called back as he stroked the side of his nervous horse before climbing onto the saddle.

  “He’s waiting just outside the gate,” Maggie shouted, waiting for them to mount up before leading them through the gates and past the distressed guards.

  In the middle of road, just outside the small gates sat Thorn, the white tiger mildly annoyed by the storm brewing overhead, but unflinching when a clap of thunder rolled over the land. As she approached, the tiger let out roar and knelt before her, allowing the tiny woman to climb on his back.

  “This way!” she cried as Aiden’s ears popped. On an impulse, he looked up and was momentarily transfixed by the swirling clouds forming a huge maelstrom. A bolt of lightning blinded him momentarily, followed by a deafening clap of thunder.

  He struggled to keep his mount under control with his legs, and when he was able to see again, part of the city’s wall had been blasted away. His doubts about the druid’s ability to destroy the city were quickly vanishing.

  “Ride!” Maggie yelled, followed by a roar from Thorn as the tiger leaped forward. Aiden’s horse was more than eager to flee the storm and they sped down the narrow path toward the tree line. Ice-cold sleet fell from the sky, spurred on by the winds to pummel them as they raced to escape the storm influence.

  The next hour was a nightmare, where every second in the storm seemed to last forever and Aiden’s face became numb from the driving cold. The ground began to undulate and soon, the narrow path disappeared entirely. He kept his head low as he focused entirely on keeping Maggie in sight, for if he lost track of her, he would become lost in the storm.

  Finally, the punishing conditions started to abate as they reached the edge of the foul weather, and they stopped for a few minutes to let the horses catch their breath.