by Lee LaCroix
“Ah! Mursame! Sunsteel is the local moniker in Malquia. A fine name in either parts, regardless. You are in luck. The mine in the valley below is only deposit of mursame across all of Malquia, one which operates day and night without end,” Vyse boasted as he pointed towards an open window facing the mine.
“It is a key belief of the Vandari that mursame is a precious metal because the light that it gives off we believe to be divine. In Vandar, it is used for the sole purpose of religious worship and ornamentation and to see it used in Malquia with such fashion disturbs us greatly,” the diplomat explained.
“I apologize for any offense…” Vyse stated, beginning to reel.
“Stop. The Vandari are willing to overlook this trespass as well as your former trespasses. In exchange…” the diplomat began.
“In exchange for what?” Vyse interjected.
“You said you were a ruler here? A sovereign over many things. To be blunt, the Vandari will offer you stewardship over Malquia given that you meet the demands we offered your king, granted you supply us with as much mursame as Malquia has to offer as well. Although the price is great, we assure you that your coffers will never be dry, and you will have the assistance of the Vandari in keeping power over Malquia for the rest of your life,” the diplomat uttered.
Vyse nodded slow and folded his hands together, shuffling his hands as if considering the option. In reality, Vyse had made up his mind from the moment he had walked into the room and was just waiting to hear the right words.
“But, the King? His army is both loyal and capable. Regardless of the retelling, he subdued a divided Malquia unto his grasp,” Vyse warned.
“All kings will bow before the Order. By choice or by force,” the Vandarian uttered.
Vyse did not pretend to misunderstand the diplomat’s meaning. However, he could not be the one to put his sister’s husband, the ruler of his homeland, to death.
“Do we have an agreement?” the diplomat stated, standing up from the chair and placing his palms upon the table.
Vyse rose as well and met the man’s glare through the billowing candlelight, watching the destructive flames dance within the Vandarian’s eyes, unknowing that they danced in his as well. Vyse offered a bow and a clenched fist to his heart. The Deepshine defenders kneeled.
“For the Order,” Vyse stated and doomed the line of Malquian kings.
Chapter Nine
As his eyes scrambled from line to line, Garreth could feel the pounding in his temples first. He could feel the beating of his heart throb inside his head. It was a violent tremble that did not diminish as it sunk across the rest of his body. It took a great measure of strength to place the letter onto the desk before his fist was entirely clenched. Between slow breaths and the eclipsing of his reddened eyes, Garreth bent over the parchment again to read over Vyse’s condemnation again.
“All kings will bow before the Order. By choice or by force,” Garreth read aloud.
“It will only be a matter of time until the news of the King’s death reaches my ears. I must craft a sympathetic face for my sister, for without her submission, a costly revolution will have to take place,” Garreth uttered the final words of Vyse’s script.
He could feel the muscles in his hand protest, and his bones begin to ache as he used every last effort of his strength not to crumple the document in his angered grasp. He set the document aside and leafed through the pile further, finding another entry dated not long after.
As the horizon of the western sea remained flat and silver like a lordly edge, the dull gray sky above served only to oppose the lighted reflection of its glassy waves. It gave Vyse a brief respite to see that the flags of black did not darken its beauty or his attitude; the Vandari would return another day. He turned his vision from the coast of Deepshine Bay to the camp itself where long line of man and carriage alike had queued to participate his most essential of undertakings. Out of the camp and stretched alongside the walls of logged wood, the Malquians had heeded the call to action and to deliver themselves from the inanity following the death of the King. As his subjects struck out in a blinded, furious rage against the Crown Aegis who had failed their liege, they took for granted the reaching security the order had offered across the realm and had not felt the repercussions until it was too late.
Like the days of yore before the King had united the disparate towns and villages, lawlessness and banditry had engulfed the countryside in the wake of the Crown Aegis’ disbandment and had ground Malquia’s regional trade, and ultimately its entire economy, to a grinding halt. Brokering directly with the Vandari had saved the Blackwoods from collapse, and now Vyse watched as the pieces of his plan had assembled before him and prepared to scatter them all across Malquia.
“That brings week’s count to twelve hundred and forty-three,” Vyse’s aide explained as he placed the ledger upon the oaken desk.
“Every man is registered then? By name and trade?” Vyse asked as he looked down upon the book and furrowed his brow as his fingers scanned the blanks in the pages.
“Well, um, sir, some of these men don’t have trades,” the aide explained with a heavy lump in his throat.
Vyse scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“How did they ever…” Vyse began.
As if he had assumed it from outside, the booming footsteps through the echoing chambers of his home grew louder and louder until they stopped suddenly outside of the door to the study. As if trying not to disturb a sleeping beast, the rapping upon the door was composed and subdued. The two Deepshine defenders continued to rush into the study when Vyse’s aide had opened the door, and they deposited their fare upon the varnished floor. Vyse contained his rage to a small tremble, but the glare in his eye and the quick flick of his fingers was enough for his guards to lift the bleeding man from the floor before he could make a stain.
“We found this one in the larder, helping himself to some treats for later,” the guard explained as he shook the middle-aged man by the shoulder.
Vyse looked over the man brought before him with his greased, finger-combed hair, patchwork of worn leather and frayed cloth wear, gritty stubble like roadside gravel and a complexion that somehow looked better with a bloodied lip. Vyse rose from the desk to see the man.
“Not happy with your free meal? There’s more than enough under my employ, but you’ll have to do your work first,” Vyse chided as he paced back and forth.
“It was not enough. I have not eaten in three days,” the man spoke behind grit teeth.
“Well than to the mines with you. It will be your punishment and your pleasure, I’d imagine,” Vyse spoke to the man’s weakly nodding head.
“Damn the mines. I ain’t no slave,” the man stated before he spat with blood upon the floor.
At least it was not the rug, Vyse thought as he sent a fist into the man’s jaw.
“What’s this man’s trade?” Vyse asked his aide as he wiped off his hand with a handkerchief.
“Khern, Khern, Khern,” the aide uttered to himself as he leafed through the ledger, gulping hard as his finger drew across a blank.
Vyse took the silence to be more than enough.
“So, what can you do?” Vyse asked as he raised the man’s prickly chin with his clothed hand.
“Anything,” Khern replied, turning his light brown eyes alight like wildfire.
“Anything? Well, I think the Blackwoods can find a use for you,” Vyse uttered.
With a nod from Vyse, the doors to the study were slammed loud and tight.
As Domminal crept back into the library in Vyse’s manor, he found Garreth hunched over the desk with his hands weaved through his hair, supporting his head. Surrounded by Ilsa and Novas, they all appeared to be looking over a spread of documents. Until he ventured closer, Domminal did not notice Ilsa’s arm around his back as Garreth trembled with anger. As Domminal finally made his way to the table, Garreth’s glance hit him square in the face, and he was unnerved to see how composure the warrior
had lost.
“Berault was right. Father was right. All of the Crown Aegis were right. The King was murdered,” Novas explained as he twirled around the paper and pushed it towards Domminal.
Domminal glanced over the entry for a small time. The entirety of the episode was lost on him, but he found himself more than willing to put faith in his ally’s resolution. There was little left to say that hadn’t already been sworn.
“The manse is empty. Four guards on patrol, two servants in their chambers, no prison cells or maidens tied to majestic beds,” Domminal explained.
“We found little else as well,” Ilsa replied. “If there’s a hidden passage to a basement dungeon, I’m afraid we missed it this time.”
“Should we go back and look some more?” Novas inquired.
“No. No. We’ve found what we came for. We know Vyse is in Deepshine now. If the Vemsdowers aren’t here, they are probably near to Vyse,” Garreth spoke as he began to calm from his agitated state.
Garreth placed his hands on the arm of the chair and was about to stand before a sound brought all four of their visions towards the door. Creaking and clacking, they could hear the heavy footsteps of the Queen’s Aegis begin to march up the oak stairwell towards them. Garreth left the chair without a sound, and the rest followed him to the window. Like usual, the sentries outside the manse had returned to their rounds.
“Did we have a plan for escape?” Domminal smirked, and rolled his eyes.
“These are all just Queen’s Aegis. We should be able to outpace them on foot. Just run and don’t look back,” Garreth ordered and then launched himself out the window.
The escape from Vyse’s manor was unspectacular, but it was just as Garreth had hoped; he would have hated to slay the Queen’s Aegis horses, those stubborn, ignoble beasts, just to necessitate their success in fleeing. As the company camped in a small brush between a set of untilled fields north of Gold Acres, Domminal cursed his luck that he could not have wished his home farewell but knew that it would be too dangerous to stay in the city after they had riled up the defenders of Vyse’s manor. They each slept in shifts until dawn. To their surprise and dismay, sunrise was actually not that far off. The next morning, they found themselves safely away from the Gold Acres and back onto the feet of the Rauros mountains where Novas had seen the disquieting passage, which to him, felt like only hours before.
The travelers followed the Great North Road into the shadow of the mountains where the space between the slopes began to narrow. As they began to reach the end of the uphill incline, a trail of smoke became visible, then the roof of a building, and then an entire building that was surrounded by barricades of wooden lance and horse drawn carts. Garreth waved the party to the side of the road behind a ridge and peered above the edge.
“I can only guess who this roadblock belongs to,” Garreth remarked as he motioned in the direction down the road.
“Hey, don’t look at me. This wasn’t here the last time I was about,” Domminal complained.
Garreth shook his head and looked over the ridge again. The building looked like it was in better condition, and it seemed to be built into the hills away or into the mouth of a cave. Two steel soldiers stood outside the cabin door while four of the dark-garbed stood on the road. Two more idled near the cabin itself, and an archer stood on the roof.
“There are quite a few of them,” Garreth explained.
Novas peeked his head over and gave the troops a quick count.
“No more than that tavern brawl.” Novas added.
“Perhaps not. We don’t have the element of Ilsa’s surprise this time, though. Who knows how many men are actually inside. Regardless of that, I’d like to avoid spilling blood as we get close to Deepshine,” Garreth elaborated.
Everyone nodded in agreement and continued to huddle, looking over the next obstacle.
“Stay behind me and stay quiet,” Garreth ordered as he stood up and walked around the ridge.
The three followed behind him, and they walked up the rest of the slope towards the barricade. They weren’t too far off before the archer on the rooftop called out, pointed in their direction, and then nocked an arrow into his bowstring. One of the Blackwoods came forward from the blockade to speak with them and was followed by the other five cloth-clad who were idling about.
“Hold it right there,” the man called out with a raised hand. “Who ya be and what’s your business?”
“I’m Stron, and these are my men. We’re headed to Deepshine to deliver intelligence from the capital,” Garreth explained with gravel in his voice.
“Stron, you say? I don’t recall the name. Who’s your handler?” the man continued to shout.
“I report to Lord Vyse directly. All my information is for his ears only. We worked exclusively out of the Obsidian until the capital went belly up,” Garreth replied.
“The Obsidian… I know the ship. It’s been parked at the docks for a week now. I’m gonna need some more proof than that though,” the man yelled.
Garreth stood silent for a time, and the guards of the road became even more watchful and suspicious. Garreth thought about ending the charade and putting his hands to his blade, but lamented they may have to dodge some fire from the rooftop, and he thought there was no telling how lucky his allies would be or how skilled the archer was. Garreth’s mind reeled before he came across an idea. As he reached into his pocket, the guards withdrew their swords and the archer pulled back the string on his bow. Garreth threw his hand up and withdrew a shiny black ring from his cloth. The ring sparkled in the sunlight, and the man came forward to inspect it.
“Is this proof enough?” Garreth asked as he held the Blackwoods insignia aloft.
The guard inched close and inspected the ring. He looked at its features, looked over Garreth’s colleagues, and then glared at the ring.
“I suppose it is. On your way now. Quickly now. Quickly,” the man urged as he looked beyond them to the road south.
The four travelers made their way through the barricade at a brisk pace, keeping their eyes on the men who were watching them in return. Even as they continued down the path, Novas still swiveled around, as unsuspicious as he could muster, to see the barricade shrink in the distance because he assumed they were still being watched by at least one pair of eyes. Before long, the path had curved around a bend, and the barricade was out of sight.
“Keep watching our backs, Novas. They might send a scout to follow us. It doesn’t hurt to be careful,” Garreth ordered, and his son nodded in agreement.
“That was quick thinking, Garreth, and a good plan. My faith is well placed,” Ilsa complimented with a coy smile.
“Well, Behn’s men mistook us for the black villains. I’m not sure why the Blackwoods wouldn’t either,” Garreth explained.
“Hopefully, we can continue to use this guise to our advantage,” Domminal added.
“Indeed,” Garreth concluded.
The wind was stronger and dustier than on the plains, and the company drew up their hoods and put cloth over their mouths as they continued. With their shadowy appearance, Novas could not help but make comparisons to the two murderers that had jumped him behind the Salty Dog, and he wondered what he had become. Was reason the only difference between them now, he mused. He tried not to get too unfocused and kept a sharp eye on their surroundings. With their occupation of the mountain road, who knew which passes the Blackwoods had found, Novas thought.
The mountain pass was confined for the most part and was bordered on both sides by rising slopes that were near impossible to climb. It was not the Blackwoods that caused Novas to point to the cliffs, but a bearded goat that jumped from shelf to shelf, bounded off at impossible angles, and landed with surprising lightness. It called out every few leaps as if boasting with pride to the earthbound travelers. While it sprayed loose stone when it leapt, it never failed in its daring acrobatics and soon disappeared beyond the height of the cliff.
Before long, the cliff to their
right withdrew into a stony ravine, and the left face receded naturally westward, opening the pass to head north again out of the mountains. There was a deep ravine filled with boulders and stone and a gushing waterway that Garreth guessed to be a mountain spring. Thorny bushes with oval shaped leaves and single shoots of unfurling grasses rose up from the water’s edge and gave contrast to the golden brown of the mountain stone or the dark bronze of the stony waterbed.
They descended on the path as it led onto the green plain again and found themselves in a lightly wooded area. The land ahead was relatively flat, and even though it was still a ways off in his head, Garreth could swear he could see where the cliff dipped down into the Deepshine Bay and even buildings on the horizon perhaps. As they continued on the road north, the land around them changed from grassy to glade and dipped into murky bogs with willows and reeds. A muskrat stood on the road ahead, chewing on a fruit of sorts, and Novas spied it as it appeared on the road ahead. It gnawed at its prize one moment and then would stare down the road at the travelers as they approached. The closer they got, the more the muskrat peered at them. It sped into the swampy ravine when they were nearly upon it. White-winged moths fluttered and grasshoppers sprung away when the rodent disappeared in the murk, and the four continued on their journey without event.
The farther they went north, the clearer the horizon became through the sparsely gathered trees until they came to a length in the field that was clear of obstruction. To their left, the entire forest disappeared until the cliffs of the western sea, and as they traced their vision back eastward, the starkness of the land continued until tiny pines appeared in the far distance. They continued on their path, but soon lost count of the number of tree stumps they had seen. As the phantom forest grew in density, Novas was gripped even further; remnants of wooden giants gathered even closer together as they journeyed. The land had seemed stripped of life as the domiciles of birds and beasts alike had been torn asunder and never were to be rebuilt. He knew his father, a woodsman, felt the sting of this loss as well, and Novas recalled their conflict with the Blackwoods loggers that drew them into this ever expanding conflict. If Garreth knew the wilds of the world as a face, then there was no doubt he saw this as an ugly scar. And like a scar, a jutting stream cut through the land, and the group stopped to drink from their canteens and refill them. As they sat near the water’s edge, Garreth continued to peer into the distance.
