“That I do, my Zouy friend, that I do. I will not bore you with the whole sad tale, but suffice it to say that I owe him as much pain as I can give him. I was an upstanding man from a good family. I had a fair amount of land and my life was good. My wife was expecting our first child and my only interests were bringing in profit and adding to my family’s wealth. The Gray Man’s minions swept through my ancestral home and the villages nearby. He didn’t make demands, didn’t offer to parlay, didn’t give us any choice.
“His chief soldier, Shordan Drees, broke in the door to my bedroom himself. While I watched, he raped and beat my wife, then slit her throat in front of me. I broke free from his men who were holding me, attacked him, but was no match for him. He didn’t even bother to draw a weapon. Instead, he beat me bloody with his bare hands. He beat me and left me for dead, but I survived. Over the next few years, I recovered, trained, became the magnificent specimen you see before you.”
He laughed, but then suddenly his face grew cold, his eyes hard chips of stone. “I have planned my vengeance on Drees all this time, but in the meantime, I had to make a living. Thus the Red Fangs. Many of my men are simply desperate souls such as I, though some are bandits at heart. We are ruthless and we are thieves, but we try only to dispense violence upon those who deserve it. In the meantime, we are building a reputation that the Gray Man, and his dog Drees will soon not be able to ignore. When they seek us out, then I will get my revenge.
“Or so I thought. It seems that the Gray Man has bigger plans, plans that include taking over the world. I am merely an insignificant insect that he will swat when he gets around to it.”
Sitting down and deflating, shoulders slumping, he continued, “but maybe by helping you, I can help put an end to that. The one thing I ask is that you promise you will kill Shordan Drees if you have the chance. Even if you don’t kill the Gray Man, I want Drees dead. The world will be better off without that monster.”
Rindu looked into the man’s eyes and saw the pain reflected there. “I agree. If it is at all in my power, I will put an end to Shordan Drees.”
Danaba Kemp clapped his hands. “Great! Then we have a deal. Come, eat and drink. You may call back your rakkeben whenever you like, but I suggest you not do so until you’re ready to leave. The big wolves make the men nervous. We wouldn’t want any accidents. When you are rested and fed, I will share information with you that may help in getting to the Gray Fortress. And, of course, we will guide you out of the Grinder. We know where the dangers are and how to avoid them. I must ask your word that you will not reveal our location, however.”
“You have it. No one will learn of this place from us.”
“Wonderful. You are now honorary Red Fangs. Congratulations!” he laughed his booming laugh, which seemed much too loud for a man of his size.
46
While they rested, Sam listened to Danaba Kemp as the bandit explained to the party some of the things he had learned over the last few years. The Gray Man, he said, had taken over the old Arzbedim fortress, but he had made some improvements. Ever paranoid, the villain had created and installed many defenses in the area surrounding the Gray Fortress. Kemp described those he knew about and suggested ways to bypass or disassemble them. Some of his information was old, but should still be valuable.
“I’m sorry I can’t help more,” he explained as they were leaving camp, “but betting against the Gray Man is never a good bet. He has grown too powerful for me to want to risk a head-on assault like this. My soul burns for vengeance upon Shordan Drees, but there is a difference between rushing in to attack Drees and doing so with a magic user like the Gray Man. I hope you understand.”
“We do,” Rindu said. “We appreciate the help you are giving us. Thank you for your hospitality and your help.”
With that, the party left, meeting the rakkeben at the outskirts of camp, having called for them earlier. A nameless bandit brusquely motioned for them to follow him, not saying a word for the three hours it took them to reach the end of the area known as the Grinder. With nothing more than a perfunctory wave toward the exit, he disappeared back into the maze of canyons and the party was alone again.
Soon after leaving the twisting passages of the Grinder, Sam looked ahead to the horizon. Not sure if what he was seeing was true, he waited until the party crested a hill and stopped in his tracks. Looking out as far as he could see, he could make out clearly a roughly circular area that had to be more than fifty miles in diameter. Inside it, nothing seemed to grow. The distinction between forested land and the barren area was a sharp line describing a perfect circle.
“The Dead Zone,” Dr. Walt told him, coming up alongside him. “Apparently, sometime during the last days of the high science era of this world five hundred or so years ago, some type of weapon or energy source created widespread devastation. So devastating was it that things still don’t grow here. At least, no normal things grow here. Life adapts, and it did so here. A hardy type of scrub grows sparsely in the dead zone, but it’s good for nothing but for feeding fires.”
Sam’s incredulity was plain on his face, he knew. “What could do something like that? Nuclear weapons, maybe?”
“Perhaps. There is little known about what technology was like on this world during that time. It doesn’t necessarily need to be like our own world. Where we on Telani spent our time and resources harnessing the power of the atom for nuclear power, they may have gone another direction entirely. History, at times, pivots on the razor edge of a decision or on serendipity. I think personally that it was something unfamiliar to us. Regardless, here is evidence of man’s penchant for destroying himself.” Shaking his head, the grizzled scholar made his way down the other side of the hill, going into the Dead Zone.
As Sam caught up to the others, Rindu told him, “We are within a hundred miles or so of our goal. Ready or not, the most difficult and dangerous part of our journey is ahead. We will stop to get supplies in Patchel’s Folly and then head directly toward the Gray Fortress. Be on your guard, Sam. We are in the midst of our enemies, now as never before.”
Throughout the rest of the day, Sam’s vision scoured the landscape, searching for anything that appeared to be living besides the dull brown bushes that hunched low to the ground, appearing to be dead and dried already. They passed streams, rivers, and lakes, having to cross some of them. Twice, they had to strip down to their underclothes, bundling their clothes on top of the rakkeben in oiled cloaks while they swam the deep but slow moving rivers. Luckily, the weather had not turned too cold yet. It was not quite the fall of the year, so the temperature was mild and though it should have been raining, it seemed that they were in a dry spell.
As much as he looked, though, he could find no sign of life. Even with all the water, nothing but the stunted brown bushes were in evidence. He knew he should probably have been happy that no enemies could sneak up on them in terrain like this, but he felt uneasy, as if he, as a living creature, didn’t belong here. When he saw a dot on the horizon slowly resolve itself into a large block of differentness over the course of a few hours, he was happy for the change in scenery.
The party stopped their rakkeben and dismounted. Digging into their packs for dried meat to feed the wolves, they sat down and ate a light lunch of dried fruit and some of the few remaining loaves of bread.
Rindu turned to face the rest of the party. “We will need to get supplies in Patchel’s Folly. It is too close to the Gray Man’s stronghold for us to be seen together. We would certainly be captured or attacked if recognized. I will go alone in less recognizable clothes. Without some supplies, we will not have enough food to continue. The Dead Zone extends almost to the Gray Fortress so foraging and hunting will not be possible.”
The humans simply nodded, and Skitter’s assent drifted into Sam’s head. Looking at the others, Sam saw that they appeared to be drained of energy, depressed, and apathetic, just as he felt. Eating didn’t seem to help, and he just did it mechanically because he knew he h
ad to. Even the rakkeben seem affected.
What about you? Sam sent to Skitter. Do you feel it?
The oppressive mood of the land and the sapping of energy? Yes, I feel it too. I don’t like this place.
I agree, Sam responded, but I think we’ll like the Gray Fortress even less.
After they set out again, they diverted their path to the east slightly, away from the town. “There is an area with some rock formations off that way,” Nalia pointed toward where they were headed. “We will stay there while waiting for my father to get supplies. We do not want to be too close to the town.”
Sam looked her over. The set in her shoulders, the slight change in her posture told him all he needed to know. Guiding Shonyb closer, he took her hand, lifted it up, and kissed it lightly. “He’ll be all right. I don’t think the Gray Man himself could harm Rindu.” He smiled at her, though she probably saw that it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She squeezed his hand. “I know, but I do not like staying behind. We must do what we must do, though.” They rode like that for several minutes, holding each other’s hands until the terrain became rougher and they had to allow their link to be broken.
Rindu had been gone for several hours. Sam was sitting with Nalia, chatting softly about her childhood, wondering anew at his good fortune in finding her, even if the circumstances were not ideal. She had her mask off and he was delighting in her facial expressions as she related a funny story about how she got in trouble for cutting her own hair as a child. They laughed together and Sam almost forgot about his concern for Rindu. Almost.
As their laughter ghosted away, replaced with concerned looks, Dr. Walt spoke up. “So, Patchel’s Folly. Do you know why it’s called that? Or even why it exists?”
Sam and Nalia looked at the scholar and shook their heads.
“Well, then, let me tell you what I have learned. First and easiest, it exists because of trade, as is the case with so many things in this world. The area is a juncture of land routes and water routes. With the mountains to the East and the West, the plains in the Dead Zone are the only suitable roadways for wagons carrying trade goods from the South. Anything coming from or going to the North typically travels by boat or barge, and Patchel’s Folly is where the transition occurs.
“As for the name, well that is a bit more interesting. From scraps of information I have been able to dig up in my years here, I think I have a fairly good idea of the significance of the name. Patchel, it seems, was a man of some responsibility and authority in this area, a governor of sorts. Sources seem to indicate that he commanded the military forces for a radius of almost three hundred miles.
“In those days, the land was heavily populated, such as on our world, Sam. That being the case, I am assuming that Patchel would be in command of upwards of 20,000 standing troops and had responsibility over several million people, with all the civilians included.
“During the height of the war—I am not sure who was fighting whom—Patchel was directed by his king to use a recently developed weapon, but only as a last resort. It was volatile and extremely destructive, but the king trusted Patchel implicitly and gave the weapon over to him. The rest, well, most of what I know is from a song about it, for which there are only partial lyrics. The part I found goes like this:
From the east the fire’s glare
Shining bright along the stair
The king to kill, to break the pact
And seize from them the fertile tract
No one in the west to spare
Then the spy did infiltrate
Guard and shield had come too late
His lady wife the knife did slice
And turning Patchel’s heart to ice
Bloody pact to consecrate
Mad with grief and reason fled
Patchel to his gen’ral said
Now is time to fire the volley
Thus was rained down Patchel’s folly
Leaving nothing but the dead
“So, you see, Patchel’s folly was to use the weapon, not knowing how incredibly powerful it was, or not caring. It seems that through some sort of betrayal, the great leader lost his wife and with it his will to live. I believe the enemy, a power from the East, through treachery, attacked even the king’s high palace. That palace was referred to in other records as ‘the Golden Stair.’ We shall probably never know if he activated the weapon out of revenge, ignorance, or apathy for having lost his reason to live. The second generation of inhabitants of this area, after it was suitable for sustaining life again, named their community in such a way that no one would forget what foolish choices can do. Of course, they were wrong. With more than five hundred years separating us from that time, you and I are probably the only people on this world who know what Patchel’s folly actually was, so the lesson is lost on most.”
Sam wondered at a weapon that could do that much damage. Even nuclear weapons did not have a damage radius as large as the dead zone. He wondered anew at what kind of technology this world had before it had destroyed them. What wonders did this world possess when his world had not yet even had the Industrial Revolution? Five hundred years ago on his world, almost none of the things he knew as modern conveniences existed. It was essentially the same technologically as Gythe was right now.
The three sat silently for a time, thinking their own private thoughts about what happened centuries ago. They decided to rest, none of them feeling up to further conversation. Sam insisted on taking first watch, moving off to perch on a rock outcropping overlooking the area. The other two settled in to sleep, as did the rakkeben.
Is it true? Skitter sent as he climbed up next to him. Are there things in your world that can do such damage?
Not quite so much, but still a great amount. He sent some mental images of nuclear bombs and the effects he had seen in magazines and history books.
Why would anyone want to kill so many? We hapaki have sometimes been forced to kill, when we were acting in self defense or when a predator took residence in our area and threatened the entire community. We could never think to purposely go out and kill others, though.
Sam looked at his friend sadly. Some people kill for power, or for riches, or to take others’ land. I hate it and don’t understand why things are more important than life to some people, but that’s how it is. Your people are definitely superior in this regard, my friend.
Of course we are. I’ve told you that before. You must be a slow learner. His sending was tinged with humor. Would you like me to keep watch with you?
Thank you, but no, Sam sent back. I have some thinking to do. Go ahead and go to sleep. I have a feeling we won’t be getting much of it for a while.
Skitter pawed at Sam’s pantleg for a moment, a sign of camaraderie, and then curled into a ball near Nalia and was soon fast asleep. Sam caught glimpses of the hapaki’s dreams as sendings, dreams of succulent fruit mixed with dreams of giant boulders flattening his entire community. Sam was sad that he had introduced the idea of such atrocities to his friend.
47
Several hours after full dark, Sam caught a glimpse of movement on the plains toward Patchel’s Folly. Softening his gaze and projecting his rohw outward, he saw Rindu’s familiar glow of power making his way toward where the others lay sleeping. Hopping off his perch, he rushed toward the Zouy to help with the baggage he was carrying.
Rindu smiled tiredly and allowed Sam to take most of the bundles he had lashed to himself. “There were no troubles, but the town seems to be on high alert. It was the correct choice in not having everyone come with me. They have several garrisons of soldiers waiting…for something. I was able to get enough supplies to last us more than a week. With water so plentiful, I did not need to get that.”
As the Zouy sat down to eat dinner, Nalia woke up, smiled at her father—she was so beautiful that Sam wished she never had to wear the mask again—and went over to the rock perch to take her turn at watch. Sam took the hint and rolled himself into his cloak alongside
Skitter and Rindu, and knew nothing until the brightness of dawn woke him.
Soon after that, they divided up all the supplies into the bags on the rakkeben, gave food to the big wolves and Skitter, ate breakfast themselves, and started off. The day promised to be cool and clear, with little wind. A perfect day for travel.
Just after noon, the little party rounded a rock formation and found themselves looking at more than a hundred soldiers, with the woman assassin they had met and a very large man with armor and weapons hanging on what seemed to be every inch of him.
For the briefest of moments, there was no motion, no sound. It seemed as if the land itself, and even the weak breeze that had been blowing just a moment before, all stopped, holding their breath. Then, chaos erupted.
Rindu leapt off his rakkeban, tackling Dr. Walt off of his mount. Sam jumped off Shonyb at the same time Nalia dismounted. They all dove behind the rocks they had just rounded, arrows pinging all around them. The rakkeben, Sam noted, had rolled to the side and were taking cover behind the rocks as well.
“Stop firing!” the big man yelled. “We must take the old one alive. If you kill him on accident, I will skin you alive. Now, move in!”
Sam had been training for months, a novice no longer, and it showed. As the men swarmed around them, they were unable to touch him, let alone strike him. Dodging effortlessly, hearing only the vibratory song of battle, he worked his way mercilessly through them, his separated staff striking out and breaking weapons and bones.
Skitter, mumbling into Sam’s mind, was retreating into a secure crevice in between some rocks, taking himself out of danger. The rakkeben joined the fray, bowling over some of the attackers and latching their massive jaws on others.
Sparing just a moment to look toward the other humans, he saw Nalia and Rindu fighting off attackers, trying to protect Dr. Walt, who was backed against a rock, trying to stay out of the way. He caught Nalia’s glance at him and nodded slightly to her as he moved to the side as a charging man trying to skewer him with a spear.
Vibrations: Harmonic Magic Book 1 Page 31
