The Spirit of Malquia (In the Absence of Kings Book 2)

by Lee LaCroix

“Aye, things will be safe here, but you should get heading back to the capital, Berault will want to hear all the news as soon as possible,” Behn explained as he stood up from the chair. “And with that, I must get back to my duties.”

  “Alright. We’ll be seeing you,” Garreth pledged as Behn withdrew from the tavern, Novas and Domminal offering their own goodbyes as well.

  As soon as they had finished their brews, they left the tavern and walked towards the stable to hire some horses. They inquired to Greggor if they could rent some horses for a spell, but he respectfully declined and offered them a ride on the coach because he was shortly going to the capital anyways. They agreed and waited outside the stable until the carriage was ready and then hopped on the bed as it pulled out of the alleyway beside the stable. Greggor whipped the horses into a trot and they took off down the Great North Road and into the expanse of rocky crags and pointed valleys south of Bouldershade.

  “We should be there before sunset at this pace,” Greggor barked from in front of them.

  The rangers were glad to stretch their legs and continue to sit because they had done their fair share of traveling as of late. The gentle trot of the horse drawn cart lulled them into a comfortable rest. Earthbound traveler and sky-fixed cloud passed by without consequence at that time. As they continued closer to the capital, the fields north of the city were occupied with labourers busy with late harvest. All that could be taken was being stripped of the fields before the frost became too severe. Greggor gave a driver a wave as they passed a wagon on the side road that was beginning to fill with vegetables and roots. They continued for a while longer until they reached the circular road encompassing the city, and Garreth moved to the front of the wagon.

  “Here’s where we’ll be seeing ourselves off. Thanks again, Greggor,” Garreth offered with a slap on his shoulder.

  Greggor gave them a short wave, and Novas, Domminal, and Garreth hopped off the side and headed to the northeast entrance of Amatharsus. They made their way to the gates and were about to pass through before two of the Crown Aegis stood in their way.

  “Hold up there. You are clothed in the black, and we are mighty suspicious of the return of the Blackwoods. Who are you?” one of the guards questioned.

  Garreth couldn’t fault them. What had aided in their infiltration of Deepshine could only be to their detriment in the capital. He had wished he had kept his old cloth and lamented.

  “Why this is Garreth and Novas, hands of the Berault the Regent. Just look at these faces,” Domminal spoke out, hands raised.

  “I’m fresh to town and fresh on duty and don’t know many but the armsmen and the smithies,” the guard replied.

  “Here, here. This should do,” Garreth offered as he scrounged into his pack and pulled out the original tabard of the Crown Aegis. “Do you recognize this?”

  “That I do, sir. Sorry this one has troubled you, wants to do his best, I’d imagine,” the second guard, an older man, admitted.

  He waved the three through, and they continued into the Upper Quarter. It had lost none of its splendor since they had last visited. The elegant and pomp denizens were astride in the streets with thicker coats of a fine and reflective texture and layered dresses with frills and complimentary colours. Like with the other visitors to their quarter, the residents paid the rangers little mind as they had their own concerns, conversations, and preoccupations.

  The travellers made their way into the Trade District soon after and found much unchanged as well. The hustle and energy of the commercial core still remained loud, lively, and loaded with merchants, entertainers, labourers, street callers, and customers. The center of the Trade District, once used as a space for the audience to the grandstand, had now been filled with vendors and their wares, but an accompaniment of musicians still played upon the stage to a passing crowd.

  The Lower Quarter was the same as ever albeit a bit cleaner than they could recall. The streetsides were no longer caked with grime, and it appeared street sweeping had become a popular profession among the youths because they saw a gathering of lads racing their way down the sidewalks and pushing litter as a game of sorts. The energetic passtime benefited the area and earned the participants leniency amongst the locals. The iron door to the courtyard still stood solid, and two guards gave the rangers a stiff salute as they passed by. It was around sundown when they arrived at the Salty Dog, and they were informed that Berault had not arrived yet from his duties around the city.

  “It’s good to see you lads back in town,” Tummas asserted as he brought a trio of ales over to their table. “If you’re looking to catch the old man, just keep your eyes on the door, he shouldn’t be too long now.”

  “Will do,” Garreth replied as he raised his glass to Tummas.

  They had barely begun their ales by the time Berault hobbled into the tavern and made his way up the stairs. The three abandoned their drinks and paced up the stairs to catch up to him. Berault was unlocking the door to his apartment when he heard the rumble of steps following him. He tensed up in suspicion and pictured how many steps it would take for him to reach his trusty blade on the wall. He couldn’t be too careful nowadays, he mused. He let himself in the door and peered out of the doorframe to see who was coming up the stairs. When he saw the black cloth, he hurried to shut the door and rush to his weapon, but he brought his vision up to see a familiar face, and a smile broke out on his.

  “Ah, ya old rascal! Garreth, and Novas, and Dom… get in here!” Berault shouted with a wave as the three continued down the hall.

  The rangers entered the cozy apartment, and Garreth took a seat in the chair opposite to Berault while Novas and Domminal pulled up the bench. Novas looked around at the changes to the room since his last visit. Berault had been gifted many things from well-wishers, it had seemed. His table, chairs, and the bench now sat upon a solid red rug with gold tassels, in the center of which the sword and crown motif of the Crown Aegis was designed. There were a few crates of wine stacked in the corner of the room, and the new Crown Aegis tabard hung next to the original one. There was a suit of delicate finery hanging in the open of his room, but Berault still preferred to wear his sparring leathers. Like Garreth, Berault always preferred himself to be a soldier than a statesman.

  “So, what of Deepshine. You did an awfully good job of cleaning up Bouldershade like I knew you would. Shame about the Vemsdower’s place, though, I suppose,” Berault inquired.

  “At the mountain pass of the Rauros, the Blackwoods set up a barricade and installed barracks into the rock wall. Our recently tailored cloth and this signet ring allowed us to pass the guards under a false pretense, and we hurried north. We made our way to Deepshine Bay from the shore and approached from the west. Four boats were docked and were unloading man and machine alike. The Blackwoods are dug in terribly, I’m afraid, Berault.

  “A trench has been built facing the south side with spiked deterrence blocking the entrance. On the other side, are foreign engines of war with bolts the size of men and have cupped hands to throw the weightiest of boulder. Their defenses stretch around the south edge of their camp, and Deepshine is no longer a simple mining operation. Four watchtowers and five barracks have been made. The refinery pumps soot and smoke into the air, sludge into the sea, and the production of sunsteel has increased drastically it would seem. If it was just Vyse and his turncoats, I would not be so hesitant, but north of the camp lay a tent encampment of at least a thousand foreign soldiers who are armed and ready for war.

  “We managed to jailbreak the Vemsdowers with a clever infiltration and made our way back to the Rauros in the cover of night, but not before their riders managed to alert the guards there. Since we have returned, the blockade no longer stands, and the barracks have been burnt asunder,” Garreth explained.

  Berault nodded and began to jot down his testimony on the parchment on his desk, waving his quill for Garreth to continue and sending small flecks of ink around in the process.

  “Alright, this
is good, good info. This will help us in the time to come. I’ve asked Behn to keep an eye on the northern roads. He’ll inform us of any goings on from here. You’ve earned some much deserved rest I think. Go take a few days for yourselves, all of you,” Berault replied.

  Garreth’s face slacked in surprise as he could not believe what he was hearing.

  “Berault, this Blackwoods threat is much more dangerous than I think you comprehend. Those weapons of war had wheels, all of them. With those and that many men, if they marched upon Amatharsus, the effect would be catastrophic. The gates and walls of this city would fall to a siege of that magnitude. We cannot allow them to take one step forward to realizing this,” Garreth argued.

  “If the camp is really as manned and fortified as you have said, then it would be disastrous to take a force there. I’m sorry to put it this way, but you haven’t been present here in the city since the occupation ended. Yes, the streets are cleaner, safer, the people more happy and peaceful, the merchants more prosperous, and the customer more satisfied, but the Crown Aegis still has a long way to go before we ever retain the vision that the Crown Army once was. It is true that we are seeing dozens of new recruits each day, but we scarcely have the space or the arms to properly turn these men and women into soldiers. Kayten is thinking about moving back to Southbriar and working remotely just so they can have more smithies working on these new demands. And need I remind you what happened the last time we took untrained recruits into battle, when the Blackwoods showed up in our courtyard and made us defend what was rightly ours? Sure, we achieved victory, but at too high a cost. Too many dead, too many stricken with grief. Good men and women who didn’t get to see a free Amatharsus. We cannot allow this tragedy to happen again,” Berault proclaimed as his voice rose to passion and anger and coolly resided back to calmness.

  “I cannot stand the thought of leaving our good friend Behn and all those people of Bouldershade on the brink of oblivion with only twenty-five soldiers to defend them. It is far better to be proactive than reactive, I’ll say. Give me twenty-five more swords and allow me to secure Bouldershade properly, and we’ll hear no more about this army until you’re ready,” Garreth argued.

  A silence cut through the room, and the crackling fire was the only whisper for a brief moment in time.

  “Domminal, Novas. What do you think of this?” Berault questioned.

  “I’ll follow my father to the end. He has yet to lead us wrong,” Novas stated.

  “I’ve seen this Blackwoods threat with my own eyes, and I know the danger it presents. I’d like to see this to the end,” Domminal explained.

  “So be it. You will have your soldiers, Garreth. Do your best to safeguard the northern front but don’t get yourself killed out there. There is a much bigger game afoot, and we’ll need you alive to see us victory,” Berault elaborated.

  “Now get out of here. Your troops will be waiting for you tomorrow morning in the courtyard. I need rest, and I order you to get some too,” Berault commanded as he stood from the chair and turned to the window, putting his back to them.

  The three rangers left Berault’s apartment without a word and continued down the hall. Garreth and Novas stopped at their apartment, and Domminal gave them a stiff bow before turning away.

  “See you on the morrow,” he offered before disappearing down the stairs.

  Garreth nodded at him, Novas gave a short wave, and then they let themselves into the apartment. Their home was unoccupied when they entered and seemed as it was before they had left. Kayten’s sword and shield rested upon the corner in the common room. There were some potted plants arranged near the windows, and a tapestry depicting a sunset over a golden beach now hung on one of the walls. The two had not yet decided to turn in yet because the sun’s light was still in the sky, so Novas took up his usual seat at the window, and Garreth took to carving a figure out of some wood. This time, he decided to carve a sparrow.

  The shavings on the floor began to pile, and Novas began to nod off when the door to the room finally opened again. As the sound of footsteps pattered into around the hallway, the two hunters waited in silence. Kayten’s tired gaze turned into an easy smile as she walked into the room and put her arms around Garreth’s neck and squeezed tight.

  “Welcome home, you two,” Kayten offered with a yawn.

  “Thank you, Kayten,” Garreth replied as he looked up at her.

  “It’s good to be back, and it’s good to see you too,” Novas added with a smile.

  “Seems like only yesterday when you’d left. Things are getting mighty busy in the courtyard with so many people showing up as of late. The time just seems to fly by. The days and nights flowing together in the blink of an eye,” Kayten explained to them as she sat down into a chair. “You like what I’ve done to the place?”

  “I do. It reminds me of home,” Garreth replied, and Novas nodded in reply.

  Kayten yawned again and sank into a chair, but then a peculiar look came upon her face as she rose. She paced into her room and returned with two objects wrapped in a cloth bundle.

  “I made these for you two. Far less ceremonial and decorative as Lord Cross’s blades but forged with a purpose unlike I’ve ever seen,” Kayten explained as she unraveled the cloth and handed each scabbard to Novas and Garreth.

  Although the scabbards were shined with leather polish, their length was as dark as the cloth that they now wore upon themselves. Upon the face of each hilt, an image of the sun and its dazzling rays was designed with a golden emblem. While the hilt itself was polished steel, elegant curves arced between the ends of the guard and the pommel. The grip was bound in leather nearly as dark as the scabbard itself.

  When the two withdrew the blades, they were met with a sight they had never seen before. They were swords as long and as wide as their previous ones, but their complex metallurgy made them a wonder. The majority of the blade was made from shining steel, which stretched from the hilt almost all the way to its point. The edges of the blade were made of a different metal entirely, and the fire of its texture made the rangers assume that it could only be sunsteel. The edges of the blade continued up both sides of the sword and joined at the tip where it met a different coloured alloy. Down the center of the blade was a strip of deepening dark, which Kayten explained was her precious moonstone.

  “The blades are much more than just decorative. Let me show you,” Kayten offered as she picked up her shield from the corner of the room.

  She raised it in front of her, and took a defensive stance. Much to Garreth and Novas’ curiosity, she closed her eyes.

  “Okay, you may strike me now. I can take it,” Kayten commanded as she held the shield aloft.

  Garreth looked over at Novas and shrugged. He took a wide swing at the shield, and the blade rang out as the metals collided. The most astonishing effect occurred where the edge of the blade had hit. The sword produced the most brightest and briefest of flashes, and the sword glowed momentarily where it had struck. Garreth could see the lightning-like flash, but it appeared to him that it was subdued or pulled away from him. When Kayten lowered the shield and opened her eyes again, the surprise she saw on Novas and Garreth’s face indicated that the desired effect was successful.

  “You saw the light? Good, good. You see, the sunsteel has been tempered so it’s highly volatile and will react as such to deflecting strikes. I’ve tested it to ensure that it will not undergo transformation, though. I was puzzled at first... how could the sword not blind the wielder as well? Well, I forged this strip of moonstone into the center of the blade, a metal which feeds off the light that the sunsteel creates. While you may only see the tiniest gleam of the blade, like light shining through glass, your adversaries will be exposed to a dazzling surge much like staring into the eye of the sun,” Kayten continued and pointed to the various inserts of the blade.

  “Now, I’ve given the blades names. You don’t have to keep them or anything, but it only seemed right,” Kayten explained as she put t
he shield back in the corner of the room.

  “Yours, Novas, is Dawnbringer. And yours, Garreth, is Darkbreaker. May you use them wisely, and may they ever protect what is good in this world,” Kayten uttered as she raised her hands towards the swords.

  “They are fitting titles, Kayten. I would be honoured to have this blade carry the moniker. We are truly fortunate to live in a time with such a skilled smith,” Garreth proclaimed as his eyes paced the length of the blade and settled on Kayten.

  “We are indeed lucky. This blade outshines all others I have seen and makes even Masse. A. Moone’s weapons pale in comparison. I have no doubt the old cuss would be green with envy,” Novas remarked with a smile.

  Garreth and his son placed their weapons back in their sheaths and set them aside. The two brought Kayten close in a circular embrace and bowed their heads together. A soft wind of unexpected warmness blew through the window, and left a gentle touch upon each of their faces; a compassionate calm before a shattering storm.

  Chapter Twelve

  The sharp crack of miners picking returned to Zill like a painful heartbeat. Exhaustion had been the only remedy to escape the unrelenting rhythm as it struck through his head repeatedly without end. His jailers had been pleased; by digging all the sunsteel out of a section of earth, he had made a hole dark enough to sleep in. His only respite was waking by his own accord and not the dutiful reminder of a solid boot to his stomach.

  Zill had not seen true sunlight in weeks. He remembered watching the bounding torchlight of Deepshine disappearing brick by brick as the Blackwoods walled him into his new cell. The first of the mine’s corridors that he had cleared of sunsteel was rebuilt into his home. Zill could always tell it was morning when he was torn from his sleep by rough hands, and could tell it was evening when the Blackwoods could no longer stand him up again.

  It was only in the blackness of his cell that he could still remember. The nightmares of his kidnapping always burned him the worst. They always began in his room at the Salty Dog. As if a distant memory, he recalled being full, content, and happy in a way. Since being delivered from a less than moral life, he had gained food, friends, coin, and women. He remembered looking down upon the city and seeing a better future than he had seen in a long time. The next thing he remembered, he was in the corner of his room surrounded by a group of Blackwoods. Not even the dead man’s swords could help him then.