The Ruins [Book 2]

by T. W. Piperbrook

  The ceremony—Deacon—had taken away her last relative.

  If only things didn't have to be this way.

  Flora bit back feelings of anger that she'd talked herself out of too many times as a child. But they were always there, brewing beneath the surface. Deacon had killed her father, and he would kill her, too, if she didn't bring back what he wanted.

  She had no choice but to follow her duty to The Arches.

  Chapter 22: Kirby

  Kirby cracked her eyes as morning light filtered through the cracks in the shutters, making up for the burnt-out fire. The night felt like a long, interrupted dream. She had taken a spot on the floor next to William's bed, waking in the night when the pain in her spine got too bad, or when William moaned. A few times, she gave him tea in the late-night hours, but each time, she coaxed him to sleep. She hoped this wouldn't be his last night alive. That thought prompted a fear that spurred her fully awake. She opened her eyes wider and rolled over to face William, surprised to see his eyes open.

  "Kirby?" he asked, looking at her.

  "I'm here," she said, smiling.

  William looked around, confused, taking in the dead fire, the window, and the pile of herbs on the table that Kirby had used for his tea. Making the most lucid observation he'd had in a day, he said, "This doesn't look like the hunter's house."

  Kirby laughed as she sat up. "It's not. We're on the second island. Do you remember coming here?"

  "I remember the bridge," William said, nodding as he stifled a dry cough. "I remember they told me I could see the goats."

  Kirby's smile widened.

  "I remember dreaming about demons. And the Ancient City." William furrowed his brow as he tried putting things together.

  "You were talking a lot, through your sickness," Kirby explained. "I think the fever gave you delusions. The healer said your fever might get worse before it gets better. Perhaps you are on the other side of it."

  She checked on him with cautious relief, happy to see that his face had regained some color. Dabbing his forehead with her palm, she almost couldn't believe it when she announced, "Your fever has broken. And your cough seems to have subsided. But you will need to rest more."

  "I'm thirsty," William admitted, looking around the room.

  "I'll get you a drink." Kirby recovered his water flask from the floor. She handed it to him and helped him sit upright so he could take long sips. William insisted on holding it.

  Watching him drink, a thought struck Kirby.

  She never thought she'd have a conversation with him again.

  In those moments during the nights, when he was murmuring, making less and less sense, or when he was climbing out of bed, throwing his blankets and fighting the air like a demon, she'd thought he'd succumbed to his sickness. The sight of him sitting up, drinking on his own, seemed like a miracle.

  William lowered the flask to his blankets as a smile crossed his face. "I thought this sickness would be the last one I'd have."

  "You're a fighter, like me," Kirby said. "But don't get too overeager. You'll still need time to recuperate."

  Voices in the hallway made Kirby pause. Was Bray back? She hadn't expected him last night, when the darkness had set in, but he might be back now. Perhaps they'd leave sooner than she thought, depending on William's recovery time.

  Someone knocked softly on the door. She crossed the room and answered, slightly disappointed to find Berta, supplies in her hands.

  "How did William sleep?" she asked.

  "His fever broke," Kirby said, unable to hide some cautious relief.

  "I'm better," William called confidently from across the room, prompting Berta to smile and step inside. Coughing dryly into his hand, he sheepishly added, "At least, a little bit."

  "Do you remember me?" Berta crossed the room to his bedside.

  "You took care of me," William recalled, separating his dreams from reality. "You gave me some tea that tasted sweet, and then bitter."

  Berta chuckled. "Yarrow. Not all of our herbs taste as good as they sound. But they work well for illnesses. You are a brave boy, to fight through such a sickness."

  William beamed, though he still seemed sluggish.

  Kirby stretched her stiff arms and legs. Several nights of sleeping even less than normal had taken a toll she hadn't realized. She wiped her tired eyes.

  Berta turned to Kirby, concern crossing her face. "I don't think you've left the room since you got here. Have you?"

  "Not since yesterday," Kirby said. It was true, other than her brief trip down the hallway. Berta had been bringing most of their supplies, and emptying their chamber pot.

  "You must feel cooped up," Berta said.

  "I'm fine," Kirby said. As much as she ached for some sunshine on her face, William needed her, and she didn't trust leaving him alone for long.

  "The horses seem to be doing all right," Berta said. "I checked on them."

  In the midst of caring for William, Kirby had left the care of the steeds to the islanders. "Have they been fed?"

  "I saw some hay and water near them," Berta said. "They seem to have enough, though admittedly, I've never owned one." Seeing the look on Kirby's face, she offered, "I can watch over William while you go outside to check on them, if you'd like."

  "I'll stay here."

  "I understand you want to stay near William," Berta said, "But I know how taxing taking care of someone can be. You deserve a moment's rest." Berta shrugged. "Perhaps you'll even see your friend on the way back from the hunt. I imagine he'll be back soon."

  Berta gave Kirby a sympathetic look. She lingered for a moment, making it clear she would watch William, if that's what Kirby wanted, or she would leave. Kirby glanced at William. He was awake, and clearly doing better than he had been. And he knew better than to reveal his lumps.

  "I'll step outside quickly and check on the horses."

  "No rush," Berta said.

  "How do I get out of the building?"

  "Two hallways over, you will see a door," Berta said. "You can take it outside."

  **

  Quiet conversations bled from behind the doors as Kirby stepped out into the hallway, following Berta's instructions. At the end of the second corridor, she found the exit, stepping out to a cold, clear day. The mist—thick enough that she could barely see when she arrived—was gone. Emerging into the space between the two buildings, she had a view of the wooden bridge, far off to her left. A group of guards were stationed near to it, talking. None noticed her. She didn't see any sign of Bray.

  She headed right, walking the remainder of the length between buildings and toward the yard where she'd seen The Important Ones on that first day with Deacon.

  That's where they'd left the steeds.

  The horses were the only things moving in the dead, dirt-covered field behind the building she'd exited. She walked over uneven, trampled ground full of boot prints and frozen mud as she went toward them. A few stalks of half-chewed hay were on the ground. Several pails of water had been placed near enough for the horses to reach.

  Kirby was relieved.

  The horses snorted as she approached. Kirby imagined the new scenery was as unsettling to them as it was to her. Stroking one of the horses, the one she'd ridden, she checked it for injuries. The horse appeared to be in the same shape as before. None had been mistreated.

  "We'll be going soon, Blackthorn," she said quietly. She knew the name was a lie, but she'd gotten so used to it that she couldn't call the horse anything else. That nickname reminded her of Bray, and she smiled slightly, admitting to herself that she missed his humor. Leaning down, she moved a few strands of hay closer to the horses.

  "I fed them shortly after you arrived," a voice called from behind her, startling her. "They ate quite a lot."

  Kirby spun to find Jonas. She hadn't even heard him approaching.

  "Sorry to startle you," he said, holding up his hands. "I've been keeping an eye on them for you. I was waiting to see you again, so I cou
ld let you know."

  She nodded, keeping within reach of her guns, in case this man tried anything she didn't like.

  Jonas kept a polite distance as he observed the animals and Kirby. "Did Berta find you all right yesterday?"

  "She did," Kirby said. "She gave William some more herbs. He is feeling a bit better now."

  "I'm glad I could help," Jonas said.

  "I think he is on the other side of his sickness," Kirby said, cautiously adding, "Although he will still need rest."

  "Of course." Jonas paused. "You wouldn't want to leave before he is ready. I would like to meet him, whenever he is up to it."

  Kirby didn't agree or disagree.

  As soon as William was well enough to travel, they'd leave. She had no intention of introducing him to this man. She looked toward the gap in the buildings, where she had exited. She was about to excuse herself when Jonas pointed at the horse by which she was standing. "I noticed the brown one you were standing by needs a new shoe. What's his name?"

  "Blackthorn." Kirby followed his gaze to the horse's foot, upon which she could see the outline of a worn-down piece of metal. She nodded, trying to disguise her lack of knowledge about the animals. She knew how to ride them and what they ate. That was all Bray had taught her.

  "It must have been a hard journey in the wild," Jonas said.

  "I noticed the worn-down shoe as we were riding," she lied. "We'll need to get another."

  "Another four, I would think," Jonas said with a firm nod.

  "Perhaps."

  "When was the last time you changed them?"

  "Longer ago than I'd like," Kirby said vaguely, suspecting the strange man was probably right. Even an idiot could see that the piece of metal was worn down.

  "I have some extras in the first building," Jonas said, pointing behind him. "As you know, we haven't had horses in years, and most have been melted down. But I saved some with the rare hope that we might tame some horses from the wild. I can give them to you, and you can stop at one of our blacksmiths on the way out so he can size them, if you'd like. He was our farrier, when we had horses."

  Kirby watched the man. It was easy to figure out what a farrier was, though she'd never heard the word. He was right. The horses would need new horseshoes, and she doubted that would be an easy find in the wild.

  "I'd appreciate that," Kirby said, thinking she'd talk to Bray about it when he returned.

  Jonas paused. "I'll need to find the shoes, of course." He left the statement in the air, as if he was expecting something. "That might take me a while."

  Recalling the way she had traded at the market, Kirby figured out what the man was hinting at. "Perhaps we can trade for them, though I'm not sure what we have that you will value."

  "I doubt you will let me see the god weapons you carry," Jonas said with a knowing smile. "But perhaps some knowledge would be a worthy trade."

  "Knowledge?" Kirby frowned, growing tired of the man and his games. She wanted to get back to William.

  "As I mentioned when we met, our soldiers have picked up various relics in the forest. Some have served a great use to our people. Our blacksmiths have been able to turn them into things of value, under my direction. Others have merely captured the eye. Having come from a place with weapons such as the one you carry, perhaps you can come with me and identify some of these relics, so we can figure out what purpose they might serve."

  "Maybe later."

  "A few moments of your time is all I ask," Jonas said. "As you might've heard, we don't get many visitors here. A chance at knowledge like that would be priceless to me. It would be well worth the horseshoes, so your steeds can travel easier."

  Kirby glanced back at the door. Berta had told her not to rush. Looking back at the worn, uneven piece of metal on the horse's foot, which might be more serious than she thought, she reluctantly agreed. "A few moments, and then I need to get back to William."

  Chapter 23: Kirby

  Kirby followed Jonas away from the horses toward the rear of the second building, which sat parallel to the first. She'd never been there. Jonas was unable to hide some excitement as he made conversation.

  "It has been a while since I've been in the forest," Jonas admitted. "Did you see many Savages in the area?"

  "A few," Kirby answered, recalling the altercation by the stream, when they'd been with Flora. That memory made her think of the girl that had been their traveling companion, whom she hadn't seen since yesterday. "Nothing to worry about."

  "Surely, they are nothing for you to dispose of," Jonas agreed. "The wild men are a nuisance, but once in a while, our men and women find a relic. If the relics are manageable enough, they bring them back here so I can study them. Occasionally, they find something too large to carry, and I accompany them into the wild. Most of the objects are beyond use. Once in a while, I am surprised."

  Kirby nodded.

  Pointing to the second building, Jonas said, "This is where we keep most of those relics I am still studying, and where Deacon and I live. Studying relics is one of my tasks here. A man named Parnell used to be the caretaker. When I was a young man, he passed away, and I volunteered to come to the islands. Many of the items in the second building have been here since before I was born."

  "Does your family live on this island?" Kirby asked.

  "I have no family left." Jonas lowered his head. "My parents died a long while ago. I was the only child."

  "I am sorry to hear."

  "It is the will of the gods." Jonas shrugged. "Come this way, and I'll show you the relics I am asking about."

  Jonas held open the door, waving Kirby inside. She looked into a hallway lit with torches, reconsidering her decision to a walk into a building she'd never seen, with a man she didn't fully trust. "Can you bring them outside?" she asked.

  "They are hung on the walls. That wouldn't be easy." Jonas smiled as he pointed.

  Peering through the threshold, she saw that he wasn't lying. Several metal objects hung silhouetted in the hallway, illuminated by the wavering torches on the walls. Even Kirby was unable to mask her curiosity as she tried to get a better glimpse.

  Jonas took the lead, stepping inside. "Follow me, and I'll show you."

  Kirby hesitantly followed. The hallway was long and filled with doors, with what looked like another exit at the opposite end. They walked a third of the way down the hallway, to the first relic. Jonas pointed at the twisted, metal item affixed to the wall, taking up a spot next to it.

  He couldn't help his enthusiasm as he said, "Some of our soldiers found this piece buried in the rubble of a building's foundation, a few day's walk from here."

  Kirby looked up at the object, which was bent outside of its usual shape, corroded, and obviously unusable. A frame of tube-like metal bars connected to smaller bars that jutted out from certain ends.

  "They had encountered a group of returning Savages that seemed to be getting too comfortable on the banks near the island, and they followed them into the woods," Jonas continued. "Along the way, a larger group of Savages attacked our people. A few soldiers died. Some were wounded. After defeating the Savages, the surviving soldiers took a circuitous route back to the islands, discovering this object in a decrepit, old building. They hoped we could find a use for it."

  "It is a unique find," Kirby said.

  Jonas couldn't hold back his question any longer. "Do you know what it is?"

  "I think so," she said, "although I haven't seen one myself."

  "What?" Jonas asked, as if he might pull the answer from her mouth, such was his anticipation.

  "A bicycle."

  "A…bicycle?" Jonas repeated the foreign word, looking from the object, to Kirby, and back again. "What does it do?"

  "This one does nothing," Kirby said with a smile. "It is rusted and too ancient to function, and missing many pieces. My parents drew pictures for me when I was younger. I remember what they looked like."

  "Do your people have them?"

  "No one whe
re I lived, though I'd heard some people made them out of wood," Kirby reflected. "Our people never had the time, or the materials, to try."

  "What would you do with one that worked?"

  "The bicycle is a way to get from one place to another in a faster way. The first ones were built in ancient times, if the stories are true."

  "By the gods, you mean," Jonas clarified.

  Hoping to avoid a more difficult conversation, Kirby said, "Yes."

  Jonas stared at Kirby in disbelief. "How does one work?"

  "The owners of these objects sit on them. They use wheels the way you might operate a pushcart. This one has no wheels, of course. There is no way to ride it. It would probably be better off in the forge. Perhaps you could turn it into something else of use."

  Jonas looked as if he'd been told the gods hadn't existed. "Surely, we can repair it," he protested.

  "I have no idea how," Kirby said plainly. "To spend time on such things would mean we aren't eating, or defending ourselves. Our people used our resources for other things."

  "But a find like this could mean…" Jonas looked like he was trying to wrap his head around an idea. "I'm not sure what exactly, but if we could ride these things, perhaps we could…"

  "You are welcome to try whatever you want with it," Kirby said with a shrug. "After all, it is your object."

  **

  Jonas shook his head as he pointed to a piece of rusted metal on the wall that Kirby had helped him identify as a piece of some ancient vehicle. "Cars. Ships. It is hard to imagine all of these things existed. I knew of some of them, of course, and I had guesses on others. But I never knew the names."

  "It seems our people kept more of the old terms," Kirby said. "And a few of the devices."