by C S Vass
“Home.”
Chapter Six
Iryllium’s high stone walls grew taller as they approached.
The defenders of the city, spirits entombed in marble and carved into the likeness of men with the heads of wolves, stood diligently along the ramparts with their swords and spears in hand.
“How did they ever manage to get those statues up there?” Paetrick asked with awe.
“Maybe the statues climbed up themselves,” Faela said. “The moon manages to do so well enough every night.”
Paetrick’s forest green eyes widened.
Faela was glad to see the lad regain some of his sense of wonder. After the ambush, their journey had been an unending misery. They marched, ate, and slept in silence. All were left with their own dark thoughts. They didn’t have the emotional strength to console one another.
“The gods of ice and shadow will protect us now that we’ve arrived in the capital,” one of the older monks said.
Faela bristled. All thanks to the gods of ice and shadow, she thought bitterly. No thanks to Faela, who saved your sorry arses from being skewered. Who lost her fire defending men who despise her.
“Praise be,” Paetrick said. “Faela, will you come with us to the temple? I’m sure you would be most welcome for a night.”
Paetrick didn’t see the face of the monk behind him. He looked like his nose was two inches deep into pig shit.
“No. One doesn’t ignore the king’s summons. I will go straight to the palace and see what awaits me.”
Paetrick’s face grew gloomy. Sighing, she added, “Perhaps I’ll come visit you after I learn why my presence has been requested.”
He smiled, but there was no real joy behind it. Faela couldn’t blame him. Paetrick had been a boy when they left. Now he was something else. Perhaps not a man, but he had seen death. It had come for them, screaming with bloody claws. Such things changed people.
They approached the city gates cautiously. Faela could feel the eyes on her though she could not tell where in the stony walls they came from. A sense of foreboding gnawed at her stomach.
“Halt!” A rough voice called.
One of the elder monks approached and bowed his head.
“We hail from Tallium, friend,” the monk said. “We are monks come to serve at the temple here.” He paused, assuming the soldier might say something. When there was no answer but a cold stare the monk bristled. “Gods protect the King,” he added, uncertainly.
“The gate is closed!” the guard barked. “Come back when the sun is up.”
Faela clenched her teeth. The monk stammered. He clearly thought that men of the gods would be greeted quite differently.
“Sir, we are no vagabonds. We are holy men come to serve the temple and the city. We have lodgings planned and will cause no trouble. What possible reason could you have to turn us away?”
“King’s orders,” the guard said. He lowered the torch he held to get a better look at their faces. “This gate is closed through the duration of the night. Now scram!”
“It was the bloody King who ordered me here in the first place.” Faela shouted. “He’s now decided he isn’t in the mood for visitors?”
“Watch your tongue, slut,” the guard barked. His hand tightened on the shaft of his spear.
Burning anger flooded Faela’s head. If she had her fire, she would have had a fist full of it in her hand, and then they would have seen how quick to insults the guard would be.
“Excuse the halfling,” the old monk wheezed. “She is with us as a charity case. Is there really no way to gain entry now? We are tired from a long journey. Many of our brethren did not survive the dangers of the Chillway.”
The guard’s eyes narrowed. He looked over his shoulder.
“Might be possible. Would the monks care to make a donation? Some offering to help provide for the security of Iryllium?”
The old man sighed. “We are monks, not merchants. We have no money.”
Faela’s hand instinctively moved to her coin pouch She had more silver than she knew what to do with thanks to the bandits she robbed, but this bastard could take it over her dead body. The same way she did.
“Then off with you. Let it be a lesson in piety, or some such,” the guard said.
Sighing, the group turned to leave.
“Wait, you.”
Faela felt a cold hand grab her by the arm. Disgusted, she pulled it away.
“The old men have nothing I want,” he wheezed. He looked her up and down in a way that made her skin crawl. “But you certainly do.”
He cackled through a beard that looked like dirty straw. “How about it? Want to spend the night somewhere warm? I know I do.”
Faela spit at his feet and walked away. She heard him shout a slur as she left.
The camp they set up was dreary. Nobody seemed motivated to properly construct a fire or put up tents despite the light rain that began to fall. Wet and chilly, the group resigned themselves to wait until dawn.
“The bastard probably made up that bit about the gate being closed at night,” Faela said bitterly to Paetrick. “I bet he just saw an opportunity to shake down some weary travelers.”
“Maybe,” Paetrick said. “But you shouldn’t assume the worst in people like that, you know.”
She scoffed.
“You never know!” Paetrick insisted. “And it does the world no good to be suspicious of everyone.”
“I keep forgetting how young you are.”
Paetrick blushed. “I’m not so much younger than you. I know a few things. They’re probably worried about demo—”
He abruptly stopped talking and blushed more furiously than ever.
“Go on then. What were you about to say about demons?”
“Nothing,” he said. Paetrick suddenly became very interested in his shoes.
“You know something. Spit it out.”
“Don’t make me Faela. It’s supposed to be a secret. Just forget it.”
“Out with it, now! Or I’ll tell the monks how old you were when you stopped wetting the bed.”
He groaned. “I told you that in confidence, and I’m starting to wonder why. Oh, very well.” He glanced nervously at the sleeping bodies near them. “But you didn’t hear this from me. It’s the reason why we’re going to Iryllium. Me and the monks, I mean. There apparently have been some very bad things happening in the Southlands. Valencia is overrun by demons. The Blood Wood has become completely unapproachable. Dwarves and ogres in the Jagjaw Mountains have retreated into the deepest recesses of their caves. In short, it’s a real mess.”
“So that’s why you’re going to Iryllium?”
“The King wants to strengthen the temples. It’s likely that some of us will be sent south to deal with the threat.”
“What good are monks against demons?” Faela asked. “I saw how useful you all were in a fight. Are they going to use you for bait?”
“I don’t know.” Paetrick’s voice had grown very small. “I just know that they told me to go. So here I am.”
“Wait, this isn’t just the reason why you’re here then,” Faela suddenly realized. “It’s why I’m here too. King Boldfrost must want to use the Dragons to defend the city. But…could it really be that bad? Why haven’t I heard anything about this?” Faela suddenly felt very cold and drew her knees in to her stomach. She wished desperately she had her fire.
“It all is happening so far away from Tallium,” Paetrick said. “Plus, well…”
“What?”
“I’m sure Lord Shade doesn’t want word to get out. He wouldn’t want people to think that he’s losing his grip on Valencia. We learned a bit about the lords of Western Gaellos in the temple. Lord Shade has a reputation. He’s supposed to be a terribly cruel man. I’m certain that if he wants the issue to remain quiet, then it would take a very brave or foolish person to defy him.”
Faela furrowed her brow. So this was it. And to think this young monk knew the reason for their journey
all the while. She felt like a fool. The future was certainly far from bright.
“I’ve also heard stories of Lord Shade,” she admitted. She thought about what to say next carefully. She needed to walk a line between terrifying the boy and leaving him ignorant to the dangers that lay waiting.
“He’s said to be fiercely loyal to King Boldfrost. The King favors him, and he has a great deal of power.”
“Indeed,” Paetrick said. “One would need a great deal of power to rule in Valencia.”
“There are darker rumors as well,” she went on. “Paetrick, you must do everything in your power not to be sent to Valencia. It won’t be safe there.”
He smirked, which greatly annoyed her. “Thanks, mother. I’ll be sure not to set sail into the Eternal Sea as well.”
It was a rare joke from Paetrick, but she was in no mood. Her expression conveyed as much.
He swallowed. “After traveling the Chillway I suspect that it’s not safe anywhere. Besides, what choice will I have if they send me to the great southern city?”
She bit her tongue. He had a point. But Lord Sylvester Shade’s reputation went far beyond what Paetrick seemed aware of. He was famously loyal to the king and famously hated the Tarsurian Empire, but there was much more to his story. Whispers of a terrible darkness in his castle. Murdered relatives. Women left to starve in high towers, forgotten for years until their corpses turned to dust. Discontent sons losing themselves in a maze of vengeful plots.
There was no need for details.
“He’s been dubbed the Demon of the South by the other lords of the West,” Faela said.
Paetrick shrugged. “I suppose it takes a demon to rule a city surrounded by them.”
Poor boy, she thought. I envy you if you think the demons that threaten Valencia are only outside of the city.
“If I’m sent there, then I will go. I can’t shirk duty, Faela. But for now, we might as well focus on the task at hand. There’s business in Iryllium that needs attending to. We should focus on that first. Let’s leave the rumors to the peasants who have nothing better to do than spread them. Besides, if there’s something threatening Valencia, it’s not demons.”
“Oh no? What would it be then?” she asked.
“Stupidity,” he said. “I’ve heard other rumors. More and more people are rejecting the old ways. They look to new magic from the so-called men of science. They reject the ways of elves and dwarves and ogres and instead tamper with strange molecules. Chemical compounds. You know of what I speak.”
“And you don’t approve of the new magic?”
“I don’t approve of abandoning the old,” Paetrick says. “Nor the bigotry that goes along with it. I’m not stupid, Faela. I’ve seen how people are. Rejecting old magic is more than just rejecting the forces of nature. It also means rejecting the other races. Stifling their way of life. I worry about that.”
Paetrick’s sudden musings caught Faela off-guard. She wasn’t sure if she agreed. More worryingly, she wasn’t sure if she disagreed.
He went on. “Frankly, I’m worried about you too at the moment. Will you be okay without your fire?”
“Of course I’ll be okay, you brat,” she said sharply. She sighed at the hurt expression he wore. “Look, the bandit seemed to indicate that whatever he did to me isn’t permanent. I’ll be back to my old self in no time.”
“Good,” Paetrick said through a large yawn. “We should get some sleep then. We want to be ready for the morning. Maybe your fire will be back by then.”
“Maybe.”
She pretended to fall asleep.
Once she heard the light snores coming from Paetrick’s sleeping form, she rose. Silent as a shadow she crept towards the walls of Iryllium.
In the mist, beyond the light of the torches and tucked away from the watchful eyes of Iryllium’s stone defenders, she waited.
It didn’t take long. Within a few minutes another soldier met with the guard they had encountered. They exchanged a few quick words, and the first soldier began his patrol along the wall.
She stalked him like a hungry ghost.
When they were surrounded by darkness, when the only light was from the torch he bore, she leapt on him.
He toppled easily. The heel of her foot landed roughly on his calve. They fell together. She shoved his face in the snow. He screamed, muffled. She placed cold steel at his neck.
“Be silent!” She made an effort to disguise her voice, but in all likelihood he would know who she was, anyway. It didn’t matter. She was a Dragon, and Dragons acted as they pleased.
“I don’t like the way you greet guests,” she hissed. “Tell me. If I spill your blood right now, will the next guard to stand watch be more respectful?”
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “Please. Don’t kill me.”
She rolled her eyes. He was even more pathetic than she suspected he would be.
“You turned away a group of monks. Many would consider that blasphemous. Men of the gods have a special connection to this land. Men of the gods have a very old magic. The sentinels on the wall are watching. They mislike the way you treated their holy men.”
“Please,” the guard cried. “I won’t do it again.”
“See that you don’t. To anyone. Remember, the watchers on the wall never close their eyes. The next time you turn away hungry, cold people. The next time you make a woman choose between warmth and her dignity, the watchers will come from you. Do you understand?”
She was gone before he was able to reply.
* * *
Faela grinned the next morning as they entered the capital city of Western Gaellos. The guard glowered angrily as their group entered, but he gave them no more trouble.
The moment they entered Paetrick groaned. Faela did not have to wonder why. All he had ever known was Tallium, the city of egalitarianism. The city where if you walked the streets at night, you could not find a person out of doors because some kind neighbor would have taken them in.
The contrast could not have been starker.
As they moved through the massive gates of Iryllium, they were met with some of the most dire poverty Faela had ever seen. Thin wooden houses crawling with rats were packed next to each other like fish in a tin. The roads were slick with filth and littered with broken glass. Dozens of men, women, and children drifted down the street like ghosts. Many slept in the gutters oblivious to the wash of sunlight on their faces.
“This…this is the capital?” Paetrick asked, stunned. “The center of civilization? The most glorious city in the world?” He rubbed his eyes as if to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “How can this be?”
“I tried to warn you earlier. There is no place like Tallium.”
Paetrick was grasping desperately for words. “I thought I understood. I am aware of poverty, of lack of food and money. But…but this.”
“Stop gaping like a drunken fish,” one of the monks snapped. “You embarrass our order, boy. Now onward to the temple!”
Faela had never seen such poverty herself. But she had seen a good bit of the world, and it took more than some drifters to shock her.
They continued onward through the mud and snow. Paetrick sniffled like a child as he soaked in the sights of destitution he had not believed possible.
“Let it be a lesson to you, Paetrick,” an older monk said. “Yours will be the fate of these degenerates should you stray from the temple. You are blessed to have an honest profession. Outside the temple, there is only this.” A crow cawed overhead as if in agreement.
Faela scoffed. “Paetrick has more than enough talent to make his way in this city without the temple should he choose another path.”
“Indeed,” the monk agreed. “You could do what most of the city’s population does. Mine silver in the tunnels below us. It is a life, admittedly one that will be lived in bursts of biting cold and scorching heat. And a short one. An average miner in Iryllium is expected to keep at his trade for six years before succumbing to black lung or su
ffering a crippling accident.”
Paetrick furrowed his brow. “That’s horrible. How could money be worth human life?”
“You speak like a fool,” the monk snorted. “You are a monk of the temple of ice and shadow. You know the true value of silver.”
Paetrick frowned but did not comment further.
The curved and spontaneous dirt roads of the slums eventually gave way to straighter paths paved with brick. The houses grew farther apart from one another and much larger. Up on a hill sprawling mansions with snowy landscapes could be seen.
“Have they no shame?” Paetrick mumbled.
Faela didn’t have the heart to respond.
At last they arrived. The Temple of Ice and Shadow at Iryllium was a magnificent structure. It was stories high and crawling with gargoyles. Their snarling stone faces would give pause to even the boldest intruder. High above, an ornate stained glass window in an elaborate geometric shape was constructed from a thousand perfectly fitted pieces in every shade of white, blue, and purple.
“Incredible,” Faela said. Whatever her cynicisms from traveling with the monks might have been, the sight was among the most impressive she had ever seen.
“Indeed,” one of the older monks said. “We have arrived.”
“I suppose this is where we part ways,” she said to Paetrick.
“No!” he said at once. “Come in. Look how amazing the temple is on the outside. You have to at least come in and see what it looks like on the inside!”
Before Faela had a chance to answer, a portly monk with a bald head appeared at the entrance to the temple. “Welcome friends,” he declared. “I take it you are the party from Tallium?”
“We are,” the old monk answered. “We have had a difficult journey and are quite ready to settle.”
The portly monk smiled without answering. He looked over the party for a moment before his eyes rested on Faela. “You certainly are no monk.”
“I am not. Just a member of the party. Until now. This is where I take my leave.”
