Red World Trilogy

by V. A. Jeffrey

  "May God be merciful." Whispered Parso.

  "So far he has but for how long? Curse their ghoulish rites!" Said Uwain. He glanced at them. "Omun will be coming with me to the council. The king has called for it. The situation is dire. But I might have a way to victory."

  "Omun's swords?" Asked Rapheth. Uwain nodded.

  "I have taught many of the men here how to make them. Soon you will not need me any longer, my lord. I have thought perhaps it is time for my brother and I to go home." Said Omun.

  "I hate to see you go but I understand. You want to see your own land. Still, come with me to the council. Some there would like to speak with you about your skill. Actually, your name has gotten to the king." Omun, happy at hearing this, agreed.

  "That would be a great honor." He said. The unnerving sound came again. This time it seemed closer. It was the kind of sound that when a man first heard it, it made his bowels loose. Uwain looked at the men at the table. There was fear in their eyes. He knew the effect it was having on them.

  "Omun, show these men where they will sleep. Manfrud!" He called to one of his menservants.

  "Yes, my lord?"

  "Make sure all the chamber pots are empty. Bring a few more to the room by the granary. I have business with the guard at the gate." He got up and put on his cloak and strapped on his sword and left again. Following Omun and Ruz the men slowly filed out toward the room by the granary.

  Moraven held back and touched Rapheth's shoulder. Rapheth turned.

  "I heard much about the Men in Black."

  "Who?"

  "Those you call the Black Alchemists. They are here as well, working secretly." Rapheth's eyes widened.

  "How do you know?"

  "There is one of our people who lives in the woods. Her name is Old Hildwylla. She knows things. She told us that you were coming and to treat you well for it would go well for us if we did so. But she also mentioned these men. There is one that used to be in the king's court. He is now here somewhere in the forests. To what purpose I do not know. No one knows. Not even she. Just be careful. It would seem these men are weaving a dark web across many lands."

  "Indeed." Rapheth said quietly. "I am grateful to you and this house for the hospitality. More grateful than you know and I hope that somehow we can repay the favor."

  "I think your presence here and our chance to show our hospitality to you is repayment enough. Old Hildwylla speaks with the creatures of the forests and with great ones, holy ones. My mistress, Lady Idwil listens to her voice and the Thane listens to his lady. If Old Hildwylla says to do a thing, wise men do it. And the Great Thane is a wise man."

  . . .

  Lying in bed late that night Idwil could not sleep. The giants used this as a weapon, fear. The baby within her kept stirring. It was pitch black darkness but she could tell Uwain was not asleep either. He had sent more men up with extra torches to guard the gate and the hounds were gathered there as well as an extra vigilant watch was setup all around the town walls. He himself had taken up the first watch. So far, they did not attack. And now they were to leave in two days for Aldeberg. She could smell his scent. It comforted her.

  "Uwain, do not fear to go to the king. There are men enough here to defend the town. It is a scare tactic, like you've said before."

  "To leave you here alone?"

  "There is no other choice. We cannot possibly travel together, all women and children with the men. We would be out in the open then. We are safe behind these walls. The first time they tried to attack they could not breach the walls or the gate. And they have been strengthened, as you've said."

  "Yes but the screams are designed to break a man. Break him down into fear. Once fear takes hold, there is no reason or thought. Only wild emotion. The child you carry will be stressed. You will be stressed. You could lose the child."

  "I could also lose you out there." There was silence between them. "Great Mother gave me a felicitous gift, Uwain. A gift of materials she has gathered from the woods. I shall be weaving cloaks for the warrior men."

  "Cloaks? Why?"

  "Not just any cloaks. Remember how my wedding gown shimmered and shined?"

  "I do."

  "There is power in the natural world. And my weaving has gotten better. I think together with these new swords of. . .steel, you and the men will have a great advantage."

  "You mean," he rolled over, felt for her and wrapped her in his arms. "cloaks to hide us from unfriendly eyes?"

  "Yes."

  "I only wish that the king had not gotten wind of Omun's gift as a Golden Alchemist."

  "There is one gift he will not know of or receive - my cloaks."

  "Then I will go. I shall make great offerings to Sollus before I leave. I am glad you went to see Old Hildwylla, though I wished you said something to me before setting foot outside of the town. I feel fear but since their coming I also feel hope. I do not know why but something here is a good omen amongst all this evil." She could hear the weariness in his voice. She held him tight, all the while thinking upon how she would weave a web with her threads she'd been given. Her great-grandmother was more skillful than she ever had been. It would take all her known skill and talent. As the hours bled into each other she could hear her husband's breathing fall and rise rhythmically. He had finally fallen to sleep. She felt herself slowly drifting away into sleep as well. Then, far away, so faint, she thought she'd imagined it, came again. The baleful call of the Ohdrufrid.

  Chapter Eight

  He sends the one who is ready and right at the appointed time; sometimes the prophet, sometimes the king, sometimes the warrior, sometimes the slave.

  - The Book of Nagilla, Observations

  The Black Guild of Thaumaturgists and Alchemists was rising in power like a suffocating cloud that one could not escape. They were also in league with the Slave Trading Guild, or Trader's Guild, which was becoming more oppressive by the year. Senetta already had a conflict with two minor Black Alchemists who came to her house, unwisely, to threaten her. She swiftly had them put down before they could leave. They were now buried under the house, to Demos's chagrin. He was the cause of it but Senetta would not hear of him stopping his secret practice. He had become an amateur White Alchemist. However, any non-guild member practicing it was liable for punishment. The Golds and the Whites would drag a man to the prison house and laden him down with fines. The Blacks would kill. Demos would have liked nothing more than to be a part of the brotherhood and learn from them but slaves had no rights or privileges and they certainly could not join guilds. He was barely higher in station than a mere animal in the eyes of most upper class Egians. Yet, his work was getting better even with what very limited knowledge he had of making medicines and potions. And Senetta and her people benefited from them which was one reason why she fiercely protected his work and his person.

  There was another reason. Jusawa had become a code word for not only freedom but rebellion against Egian society. Demos had become a slave rebel supporter, working to help free the slaves of Egi. Senetta was also a supporter of this movement. This too was very dangerous and could get everyone in the house executed. Demos recalled a man named Parso who had visited his old master's shop over a year ago. He'd said something to him that Demos never forgot: I perceive you are here for a very special reason." There were many people with a part to play in the fall and rise of kingdoms. He had a crazy notion after hearing of a wealthy Hybronian lady moving to the land; a crazy notion to contact her. Perhaps she was of the Aishanna-La. Who could know? he'd thought back then. If I were to help these people gain their freedom I need ladre! he had reasoned. Things were changing and he supposed he was changing too. He worked hard to cultivate contacts by others sympathetic to the cause with the help of Samje and a few others in Senetta's household and elsewhere in Yilphaeus. He was now writing letters in a special ink he'd created through trial and error, using as an ingredient in it, lemon juice. Senetta had procured for him special tinkering machines from a wealthy client. T
he old inn he had first met Mytal, the old drunk who first brought him to Senetta's House, was involved with the rebellion. He then asked the inn-keeper, Alil, if he would offer his place as a safe-house for runaway slaves. In talking with these men who caroused around and were seen as drunks and vagrants to the uninformed he found a wide, courageous web of people helping slaves to escape and this activity was accelerating.

  There was a knock on the door of his tiny laboratory.

  "Come in, Samje." Samje slipped in and stood by his table.

  "Demos, there are six waiting to be placed in a safe house. The other places in Yilphaeus are full. If you know-"

  "Do not worry over it, Samje. I can find a place for them." That was another thing. They did not tell each other locations of all the safe houses. In case they were caught, they could not be forced to divulge where they were and who ran them.

  "Samje, get someone to help you. I need you to bring me the relief supply baskets and the chest. And have supper laid out for them. My feet are hurting." His bad foot sometimes pained him terribly but there was too much to do. As quick as a fox, Samje was gone. Demos was a little envious. How he wished he had nimbleness like that again. Once, he did. Once he was a whole man and not a lame one. He put away his alchemical tools and rose. He would be leaving soon to meet with their new ally, the Lady Hazad, the very woman he had Samje approach. He climbed the flights of stairs to see Senetta and knocked softly on her door.

  "Come," said the familiar raspy voice.

  "My lady. Always I am indebted to you. I shall take my leave. I will meet with a wealthy ally. We could certainly use her help, her home and any ladre she can donate."

  "Ah Demos. See? I told you that you would become a mercenary, as all Egians naturally are. It is in our blood and now we are in your blood." Demos could not help but grin. Senetta laughed gently and took a long puff of her waterpipe.

  "My lady, I do not think that smoke will help your condition. I worry for you."

  "I am too old and sick to change, Demos. Next you would have me be an Aishanna-La proselyte. Let us not broach the subject again." Demos bowed his head slightly and did not mention it again.

  "Now, anything you need, let me know of it and I will get it for you. There are six we hide here now, correct?"

  "Yes. I shall take them along. Have one or two of the guardians watch the perimeter of the house and the surrounding streets for suspicious people."

  "Done," she said. The evening was growing late. It would be completely dark soon and the night was their cloak. He went downstairs, passing by one of Senetta's strongmen. They were a constant feature, rowdy, imposing, fun-loving but deadly when anyone crossed their mistress. He nodded briefly to the man in respect and the warrior did the same and went back to smoking his waterpipe. Demos made his way into the deep underground space under the house. He took up an oil lamp and a small pot of mutton fat from a bench, lit it and opened one of the great wooden doors to one of the surrounding rooms. There they were, afraid and it looked as if they had traveled quite some distance. Two women and a girl and three men. Their fears would have to be eased.

  "I am Demos and I am here to help you. This is a waystation before we get to the first safe house. From there I shall guide you to Egium to the next safe house where you will stay before you reach the mountains."

  "I thank you, sir. Thank you! My master was about to kill me. I had no choice, no choice! I do not deserve to die for his fits of rage!" Demos heard the anguish in the man's voice.

  "I know of what you speak." He took off his robe, turned around and lowered his tunic, showing the man his own slave tattoo. "Do you see? I too was a slave of an ill-tempered master. Thankfully my master was killed by enemies he'd made. Without my help."

  "What sort of enemies?" Asked one of the women.

  "He was an alchemist. Belonged to the Black Guild." Demos pulled his clothing back on. The women looked horrified.

  "Yes, yes. He stole from many and cheated people and one day he crossed the wrong man and was killed for it. I took my chance to escape and I came here. Come, I have food and drink for you upstairs." They followed him to the kitchen by the servants' tunnels. He gave them the basket of bread with a hard goat's cheese, some milk and some dates of which they ate hungrily. After they supped Demos gave them all cloaks to wear with deep hoods and that night they stole into a black covered litter carried by some of Senetta's guard. They came upon Alil's old inn nearly at high night. Demos scrambled out of the litter and knocked, seven times, a distinctive knock. The door opened. It was old Mytal, except he was not drunk.

  "Quick! We had the city guard come this way not too long ago!" He urged. Demos and Mytal ushered the runaways inside and Demos got the bags and baskets and put them inside the door. He sat down on one of the bags in exhaustion.

  "Rest my friend. You work too hard sometimes, I think." Said Mytal. He found a room for the slaves to sleep and came back down to speak with Demos.

  "I have more food and coin for the owner. I know he is running low." Demos got off of the bag he was sitting on and took out a smaller bag of silver and electrum coins. Mytal peeked inside and then at him.

  "My! Where did you get such a large amount this time?"

  "Have you forgotten who my employer is?"

  "Ah! Right!" He gave a roaring fart and helped Demos with his supplies. Demos shot him a wry look.

  "I swear, Mytal. With your gaseous gut, it alone would be a deadly weapon against the Black Alchemists! What in the red world are you eating?" Mytal grinned as they stumbled carrying the chest.

  "Everything I please. All the more to stay away from the black buzzards. They might find a way to take my gas from me and cap it in a bottle and sell it for the price of electrum."

  The supply room was really a large closet in the owner's sleeping quarters. There, it looked more like a shipping warehouse than a private bedroom. Many runaways Demos had hidden through here and they had found their way to freedom into the Soudan. Not yet had any traveling with him been caught. In fact, he was hearing whispers that there was a great army of them congregating in the Soudan, acquiring weapons and how they were getting them he was not sure. Demos hated violence, being a gentle and timid soul himself but what they did once they left his care was their business. He gave them some money, clothes and food and sent them on their way. At times wild tribal men in the mountains would come down and show the runaways paths through the mountains where they could find water, places to live or even escape to Hybron or beyond.

  Suddenly the door opened and Alil walked in. He took a good look at Demos, oil lamp in hand.

  "Demos you need to rest yourself before you collapse." He said gruffly. "Here, I brought you food. Do not worry about the slaves."

  "I fed them before they left. Unless they are still hungry-"

  "No one has complained of being hungry but I have no problem feeding them again. They'll need all the food they can get. You look famished. I remember, you do not like my beer so I have brought you quass. And a bowl of spiced chicken, onions and garlic and a few peppers."

  "Thank you!" Demos wolfed it down hungrily after setting down the chest and making his way to the main room. The place was now usually cleaner than the first time he had stumbled upon it. Even Alil's beard was neater looking. It was still not as clean as he would have liked but beggars could not be choosy and what did it matter? This man had turned out to be a stanch ally for which he was eternally grateful.

  "I brought ladre."

  "Ai, ladre! Always we seem to need it. Mytal gave it to me and a pretty sum too! Will last us a good long time and I thank you for the extra supplies. When will you be leaving with the runaways?" Alil sat down at the table with him. The main room was empty.

  "As soon as I am able. The day after tomorrow."

  "Be careful. The royal guard are getting curious about the neighborhood. They have even been through here recently. Word is, this sudden interest has been provoked by the Trader's Guild." Demos did not mention the incid
ent at Senetta's House.

  "Mytal told me. They were not actually here, were they?"

  "No. But movement must be kept to a minimum for a few days. Several weeks, even."

  "Note taken."

  "I will leave you to your rest and I shall have everything ready for you by the day after tomorrow for Egium." Alil shook out his great tangled beard, heaved himself up and went to finish brewing a fresh vat of beer, leaving Demos to finish his meal in silence.

  The morning after the next before dawn they started out. Alil had provided mules and a horse for them, and to Demos disguises for the runaway slaves that made them look like a family traveling to Hybron to visit relatives. That was the story they gave the guards at the gate who let them through and they made their way north to Egium, closer to freedom. In three days' travel they talked and laughed, away from the city limits, feeling freer with their speech. Around the fire at night they felt freedom they had not tasted in many years. When they reached Egium late that evening, they once again felt the weight of fear and the necessity of caution hanging about them. Demos had been to Egium four times already in his work with the runaway slaves and their allies. The women in Egium were unlike those in Yilphaeus in that even the poorest, most unsophisticated ones wore fine clothes, some wore linen so fine it could be seen through. They wore many veils of fabric over these so that only the barest hint of skin and body was seen but it was enough to spur the imagination of men from places where the women were covered from head to toe. The women wore intricate beaded jewelry with precious stones that gleamed and glittered, inlaid gold and silver pieces. Their hair they wore well-oiled, long and lustrous with jewels in them, with kohl eyes and the rage was either blood red lips, gold or silver lips. And they smelled of scented, exotic oils. It was hard not to stare but he didn't want to seem like some desert rat. He warned the male runaways very sternly about staring too hard.