Pandora's Box: Land of Strife: Pandora's Box Series, Book 1

by S. Y. Lee

  Leo didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say, because it felt like he was on the receiving end of a familiar lecture about his future. Except, he was being told to become a swordsman, instead of finishing college and finding a good paying job behind a desk.

  The scruffy man grumbled and scratched his beard. He dropped the topic and was content to resume riding in silence. Leo was happy to do the same. After what must have been a few hours, they started to see other wagons and people on horseback. They were all going in the same direction, presumably towards Silverbrick.

  *

  The sun was already beginning its descent into the horizon when Leo spotted the tall city walls from afar. He could vaguely make out a cluster of four towers that stood high above the other buildings within the city limits. They were now on cobbled roads, and traffic had slowed like a crowded highway during rush hour. They were end-to-end with wagons and carts much like their own. There were also people on horseback and foot, all lining up to get into the city. Pigs in the wagon in front of them squealed noisily. Leo wondered if they were on their way to the market to be slaughtered. He envied their blissful ignorance of what lay ahead for them.

  Leo couldn’t wait to get to the city, and was tempted to jump off the wagon and start running. Of course, he had no idea what he would be running into. Everything was an uncertainty up to this point, so he decided to stick with the man who claimed to be his father for now. So many thoughts had filled his head during the long ride. An uncle and aunt. The festival. Some sort of sword fighting tournament. There was no way any of this was real, yet somehow it felt right to Leo, as if this was how it had always been.

  When they neared the city walls, Leo saw guards in front of the tall gates. They all wore the same chain mail and blue uniforms, with a spear in their hands and a sword at their waists. On their chests were the emblazoned symbol of a silver eagle. The iron gates looked thick and heavy, and Leo wondered how many men it took to open them.

  The guards inspected the cargo and vehicles of each traveler, while a well-dressed man in grey questioned everyone. As they got closer, Leo was able to look past the wagon with the pigs in front of them into the bustling city. It was a busy scene and he saw hundreds of people walking in different directions, going about their lives. He was amazed to see many buildings and stores, where people sold fruit and pelts and all sorts of wares. For a brief second, Leo surmised he must be walking into an elaborate movie set, and that all these people were actors. That hypothesis was quickly dismissed when their wagon pulled up for inspection.

  One of the guards peered into the wagon, and grabbed the sack Leo had been given by the woman back at the farm. He rummaged through it quickly, then put it back. The man in grey spoke in a deep voice. “Name? And what purpose do you have in Silverbrick?”

  “Sam Spellnar. This is my son, Leo.”

  At least Leo now knew the name of his alleged father.

  “We’re here for supplies for the winter,” Sam said. “And to go to the festival tomorrow.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “The Laughing Frog. My brother owns the inn.”

  “Ah. John Spellnar. He is well regarded within the walls. Go on then.”

  *

  Past the giant iron gates, they made their way down the main road that appeared to run through the entire city. Somehow, Sam managed to navigate the wagon with enough guile to avoid trampling on any pedestrians, which seemed an amazing feat to Leo.

  Eventually, they pulled up to a short building that stood by itself. Above the door hung a large wooden sign that read “The Laughing Frog.” Next to the words was a carving of a frog with a big grin on its hind legs. It was smoking a pipe. Not exactly laughing, Leo thought.

  “Go ahead, go find your uncle and aunt. I’ll be right in after I take care of the horses,” Sam said, pointing to the door.

  Leo hopped off the wagon onto the soft ground. As he walked up to the door, it swung open and two men in black capes came out. They nearly walked right into Leo without any regard for him, who had to jump out their way. Neither men even looked at him, as Leo hurried into the building.

  The inside of the inn was vastly different from its exterior. While it looked plain and simple on the outside, Leo was now looking at a huge room humming with activity. Long stone tables ran through the middle, while round wooden tables were scattered everywhere else. There were only a few empty seats, as patrons ate and laughed. Most of them, from what Leo could see, were men.

  “Leo!” a man shouted from across the room. He had the same bald head of Sam, but lacked the thick brown beard. Apart from that, he looked like a spitting image of Sam. Leo waved meekly, and the man came running through the crowded room, pushing aside some patrons along the way. Before Leo knew it, the man was hugging him so tightly that the young man struggled to breathe.

  “Hello, Uncle John?”

  John Spellnar let go of Leo, gripping him by the shoulders. “Look at you! I haven’t seen you in a year and look how you’ve grown! Where’s your father? Are you hungry? Come, I’ll get someone to bring you some food!”

  The innkeeper doesn’t wait for a response and dragged Leo by the arm. He found a small empty table next to the wall, near the kitchen, where he made Leo sit. Leo had been perched on the bench of the wagon all day and was deeply disappointed to find no reprieve with the sturdy wooden chair. It didn’t look like he would find the comfort of a nice cushion anytime soon.

  Leo sat there and took his time to study the room. Most of the patrons were drinking out of large mugs and eating meat with their hands. There were no utensils involved and all the plates were made of bread. Plates you could eat, Leo thought. That was one concept in this confounding place that he could get behind.

  Many of the people in the inn were dressed like he was, in simple linen clothes. Others, wore armors of different varieties. Those that were armored usually had some type of medieval weapon by their side. Leo could see swords, sabers, crossbows, daggers, spears, and other weapons he didn’t know the names of.

  One of the servers at the inn approached Leo’s table with a big bread plate of meat and two mugs. Unlike everyone else in the inn, this server was dark-skinned. He was young, about Leo’s age. His bony arms laid the food down and Leo tried to talk to him.

  “Thank you. What’s your name?” Leo asked.

  However, the server avoided making eye contact with Leo and quickly turned and left without answering the question. He seemed terrified of Leo, who was perplexed.

  The aroma of the food quickly drew Leo’s attention. The server had brought some sort of beef brisket, so well-cooked that it practically fell apart when Leo pulled at it with his fingers. Apart from an apple he found in the sack given to him earlier at the farm, he hadn’t eaten all day. His stomach was growling and he was too famished to bother with utensils. He scooped up some meat with his fingers and stuffed it greedily into his mouth, then nearly spit it out because it was so hot.

  The beef was tender and juicy, and Leo soon had two more mouthfuls, before he grabbed one of the mugs and brought it to his lips. He took a small sip. It was sweet. He could also taste the alcohol in the beverage. That was enough for Leo, and he gulped down as much as he could in one breath.

  “Leo! Slow down! You’re going to choke!” Leo heard in the middle of the long gulp. It was an unfamiliar female voice. He put the mug down and wiped his mouth with his sleeve to see who it was. Standing before him was a tall, statuesque woman. Her long, blonde hair that went down to her waist was braided behind her, and she wore a simple yellow dress.

  She held out her arms. “Well? Aren’t you going to give your Aunt Ilena a hug?”

  Leo got up and awkwardly hugged the lady who claimed to be his aunt. He wasn’t short, but she towered over him. Letting go of him, she tilted his head up by the chin and inspected him.

  “You’re looking as good as your father and uncle when they were your age! The girls out in the countryside must be stepping over each
other to get to you!”

  “Uh, I don’t know about that…”

  “Of course they are! And there will be plenty of pretty girls at the festival tomorrow. You know, it’s about time you got married—”

  “Ilena!” Sam bellowed, interrupting the conversation. He had just walked over to the table and cut in to embrace his sister-in-law. Leo was grateful for Sam’s timing, as he felt his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. Sam and Ilena exchanged a few pleasantries, before he joined Leo at the table for the meal while she headed off in the direction of the kitchen. Ilena’s long dress covered her legs completely and it looked like she was floating away gracefully.

  They ate in silence until John rejoined them. The two brothers swapped respective stories about the farm and the inn, and Leo listened intently to see if he could gain any new insight on where he was or how he had come to be here. From what Sam described, Leo had apparently been training hard for the festival while helping out at the farm. When he said that Leo had even beat him during sparring practice, John raised an eyebrow.

  “You beat him?” the innkeeper said in amazement. Leo could only shrug.

  “Your father is, was, one the best swords in Pexaf’s army. But the war ended many years ago, and well, lads around here these days just aren’t as good with a blade because they don’t have anything to fight for. If you’re as good as your father says you are, you’re going to win the tournament tomorrow.”

  “Speaking of that,” Sam said, “Is that why there are so many men bearing swords in the city?”

  “That’s one reason. There have been whispers of a force rising in the west that poses a threat to all in the land. That’s why everyone’s here, to find out if it’s true. I didn’t see it for myself, but someone told me they saw a rider from Thelmont arrive yesterday under the veil of the night.”

  Sam’s expression turned grave. Thelmont? The list of places that Leo had never heard of was growing.

  “Has Lord Bannor said anything on the matter?”

  “No, he hasn’t been seen in weeks,” John said.

  The conversation progressed to much duller subjects about crop yields and inn maintenance, and Leo started to lose interest. He was still curious about the server who had brought him food, and looked around the inn for him. It was easy to spot him. He was refilling the mugs, with what Leo had since learned was mead, of several unruly men at one of the stone tables. The men guffawed and pounded the table, clearly frightening the poor server. Leo felt sorry for him, but there was nothing he could do.

  “You must be tired, brother,” John said. “There’s a room prepared for both of you upstairs. You’ll have to share, it’s busy because of the festival. Let’s get you some rest.”

  John waved to the server and called out, “Themba!”

  Chapter 16

  One moment he was in the library, the next, he was lying in hard bed in a windowless room. His clothes were different. They were brown rags that looked like someone had cut holes in potato sacks. Still, the clothes fit Themba perfectly, and he wondered how he had gotten into them. The last thing he could recall was the blinding red light from the wooden box in the closet. Had he fainted and been brought to the hospital?

  No. The room was small and the walls were wooden. There was nothing else in the bare room except for the bed. There was no mattress, just a thick layer of straw. No wonder Themba’s back ached. The ceiling was low and Themba bumped his head when he stood. He quickly bent his knees slightly, and crept over to the door.

  It opened into a hallway and Themba saw similar doors lining up on either side of the room he had just exited. There were steps that led down, and that’s where Themba went. When he got to the bottom of the steps, what he saw came as a huge shock. He was surprised to find himself in some sort of giant dining hall. Nobody was around, but through a window, he could see that it was day outside.

  The front door opened and in walked a bald man with bushy, brown eyebrows. He was also dressed in similar clothes as Themba.

  “Good morning, Themba! Today’s going to be a busy day. Genfrey just got back from the butcher’s. Go help him unload the cart,” the man said, and walked across the hall into an open entry way. Judging from the aromas originating from there, it was the kitchen of this establishment.

  Themba had never seen the man who had just addressed him. He considered following the man to inquire about his whereabouts, but decided against it when he heard noises of people shouting at each other coming from the kitchen. They sounded busy and he didn’t like confrontation.

  So, Themba went out the door the man had entered through. His eyes widened when he saw what waited for him outside. There were streets and buildings, and plenty of people. But nothing looked like anything Themba had ever seen in Johannesburg. The buildings were old and made of stone or wood. The streets were mostly dirt roads. And the people. The people looked like they had just walked off a set of a medieval fantasy movie.

  “Themba, over here!” a voice to his left said. A man, not much older than Themba, came walking towards him, carrying a large brown object over his shoulder. It was a dead boar. Were there boars in South Africa? Themba wasn’t sure. The man pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “Come on, we’ve got to bring the meat in. Customers will be coming in early today, I think.”

  Themba followed the direction of the thumb and walked around to the side of the building where he found a cart laden with dead animals of all sorts. There were boars, cows, chickens, and some other creatures Themba couldn’t identify.

  He gingerly grabbed two chickens by their long necks and made his way back in. As he approached the door, he noticed for the first time the sign hanging above the entrance. The Laughing Frog.

  Chapter 17

  Their room was one of the larger ones available in the inn, even if they had to share it. The beds and pillows were stuffed with feathers and Leo fell asleep almost the instant his head touched the soft cushion. His body was sore from the daylong ride to the city, and the food and mead in his stomach only helped to expedite his journey into slumber.

  It was a deep sleep and Leo dreamt of his time in Chicago. First arriving at the mansion, then meeting Eva, then the antiques shop at the mall. And then the box. The carvings on the box were still etched in his mind and Leo struggled to recall the last moments before he found himself waking up in the farm. The wooden cube had started glowing red on its own, he was certain. In his dream, there was a loud hum that accompanied the pulsating lights. He heard Eva calling out to him for help. He reached out for her, but he was suddenly floating away in a scarlet sea that felt warm and calming at the same time.

  Leo woke up with a start. He sat up and looked around him. He was still in the inn. Across the room, Sam was sitting on his bed as he pulled his boots on. He looked up at Leo and nodded. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but it was light enough outside for Leo to see people in the streets already.

  He rubbed his eyes and climbed out of bed. This was his second day waking up in a strange place where he didn’t know anyone. It wasn’t a dream, he now knew for sure. You don’t get to go to sleep and wake up in a dream.

  “I see you can’t sleep too,” Sam said slowly. He sounded worried.

  “I guess not. Why can’t you sleep?”

  Sam paused, thinking about what to say. “What you uncle said, about forces rising in the west. I remember the last war we fought. Many will die if we have to fight again. Many, will be your age.”

  Leo said nothing and put his own boots on. There was a knock on the door and Sam rose from his bed to see who it was. It was John. Sam stepped aside from the door to let the innkeeper in, who was holding a long rectangular wooden box which he set down on Sam’s bed.

  Sam recognized the box and there was a hint of a smile on his face. “You kept it,” he said, “You were supposed to sell it. Or melt it down.”

  “It would have been a waste. Sure, it could fetch a good sum, but it deserves to be in the hands of someone worthy of it. I kno
w you didn’t want to have anything to do with it after the war, but peace doesn’t last forever, Sam,” John said.

  Leo joined the brothers, standing between them before the bed where they beheld the long box.

  John patted him on the back. “Go ahead. It used to belong to your father. He gave it to me to get rid of, but I couldn’t do it.”

  Leo looked to Sam for permission. The bearded man grunted, neither approving nor disapproving.

  “Open it!” John urged.

  The lid slid open to the right and as Leo revealed the contents of the box slowly, he saw what it was. A sword. The scabbard was dark brown and plain and a red cloth was wound around the hilt. At the end of the handle, imprinted on the base was the symbol of a bird. Leo traced the symbol with his fingers.

  “It’s a sparrow,” John explained. “The name of the sword, Sparrow.”

  It was an odd name. Leo had always imagined swords to have intimidating or mysterious names, like Excalibur or the Sword of Power. Even for a bird, a sparrow seemed harmless enough. He would have gone with Hawk or Falcon, but little had made much sense in the past day.

  Leo picked the sword up and slowly unsheathed the blade, watching every inch of it shine in the sunlight that was now creeping through the window. Once it was out of its scabbard, Leo held it up straight. He was surprised how light it was, as though it was a toy sword or prop from a movie set. He still wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t been kidnapped and dropped into a reality show where everyone around him was in on it.

  The width of the blade was thinner than all the swords he had seen around the city yesterday and the sword looked brand new.

  Sam reached out with a finger to touch the surface of the blade, pulling back the moment he made contact, like it was a hot stove.