Path of Ruin

by Tim Paulson

  Henri moved to attack the second beast as it tried to come around behind Mia. He swung his sword in a wide arc intending to slash the beast in half but before his golden blade could connect the creature dodged to the left, putting a thick white parch tree between them. Rather than embedding itself in the tree Henri's veil blade slid through the wood as it would through hot butter and continued on to catch the horror in the shoulder, cleaving a forelimb from its body.

  Black and red sprayed in every direction, splattering several of the white parch trees including the one Henri had severed. The top of that tree now crashed down through the brush landing far closer to their camp than Henri would have liked. He finished the flailing horror with a second strike, decapitating it.

  “What just happened?” Mia asked, eyes wide.

  “I don't know!” Henri said, still reeling. Veil weapons were supposed to be strong but he'd never seen one cut through a tree in one blow or blast a hole in an enemy like a cannon!

  “You have corruptions here? How?” Asked the doll from below. It had apparently taken refuge during the attack by putting its head under Adem's blanket.

  Henri's sword, which before had been a veritable second glorious sun, had dimmed considerably. Now it looked like it usually did after he charged it with veil powder, something he hadn't done in years.

  “How did my sword cut a tree in half dollman? And what's a corruption, do you mean the horrors?” Henri asked.

  “First, let me put up a ward. I hadn't thought it would be necessary in this backwards place,” the doll stated as it stood and brushed the dirt from its stuffed body.

  Henri watched as the diminutive being waved its arms about itself, just as the old woman had done. There was a hum and a white globe appeared around the camp but only for a second before it faded from existence.

  “Is it gone?” he asked.

  “No. It's there. It'll stay for at least a day. While it's there they won't be able to sense us, nor see or hear us. We do not exist,” The doll said with some satisfaction.

  “So what about-”

  “I know! Your little toys there. They're made to contain veil energy. A very old design, but useful, surely,” remarked the doll.

  “I'm sorry, old? Veil weapons are new. They've only come into wider use in the last decade or so.” Mia said.

  “To you childlike people I'm sure they are. No they are quite old, old even when I was a young man. Before I looked like this,” he said, using a yarn arm to gesture toward his body. “To answer your real question about the swords is to ask one however. How many spirits reside in that boy?”

  “Nineteen,” Mia said as she sheathed her rapier.

  “Nineteen!?”

  “Yes,” Henri said. “I take it that's a lot.”

  “I've never heard of so many! No wonder he bleeds like that. There's so much energy building up inside him, it floods out like an unstoppable eruption. That's why your swords over charged. It will happen every time, probably.”

  “Probably?” Mia asked.

  “If they don't explode,” the doll said.

  “Ah.” Henri said with a sigh.

  “But the boy must be drained. With that many inside of him it will surely have to be many times a day.”

  “So I've been told,” Henri said, shoulders slumped.

  “No wonder he wants this one,” said the doll.

  “I'm sorry who?” Henri asked.

  “Nothing, nothing. We should get some sleep now. We must move on tomorrow.”

  “The old woman said Adem can be cured. That's why we're traveling right?” Henri asked, one eyebrow raised, suspicious now given the odd comments.

  “Is that what you were told?” the doll asked.

  “Yes, is it true?”

  The doll shrugged. “I suppose it's possible.”

  “Wait a minute... possible? I was told.. That's why I'm-”

  The Doll waved one of its arms, drawing something in the air again. “Bed now, the boy may wake again in the night, so sleep blacksmith. Sleep,” it said.

  Henri found his eyes drifting closed even though he didn't want them to, he wasn't done with... something? He'd forgotten.

  Chapter 9

  “The lines are why I move to Strapiombo. There is always work for a man with strong hands.”

  -Rico Dilontano, included in a tract about life on the Driatic sea, 1611

  “So exactly where are we going again?” Liam asked, hand resting on the sword pommel at his hip. He watched as Aaron stared into space as he often did.

  Finally Aaron's eyes seemed to turn on, regaining focus, but he said nothing.

  “Really? It takes that much thought to trust me? Is there more to it than you said before? Are you holding out on me?” Liam said.

  Aaron had been leading them South through the woods so far. If they kept on parallel to the road they'd arrive at the crossroads village of Karsdale in only an hour.

  That was good because the sun was about to set and the six children his sister had decided to drag along on this pointless journey were already whining constantly about food. That would only worsen when night fell and the cold set in. It was already colder than it had been yesterday and it wasn't likely to be heating up any time soon.

  “It's not a question of trust... more that I don't know. My instructions were very general,” Aaron said as he forced his way through a thicket like a blundering fool.

  “Why are you doing that?” Liam said to the walking bean pole he was forced to call his brother. “Can't you see the game trail?”

  Liam pointed to the right where a well trod path of beaten dirt and grass filled with hoof prints ought to be obvious to anyone with eyes, even those with spectacles.

  “Oh. No,” Aaron said, mystified.

  “All you're doing by beating about like that is making it impossible for anyone to miss our trail. Not that there's any good way to hide six whining children,” Liam shot a pointed stare at his sister who was currently plodding along at the back of the line paying him no mind.

  Celia at least was nodding in agreement.

  “I suppose we ought to take the trail, as long as it continues South and avoids the town ahead. You're right, we don't want anyone to notice we came this way.”

  Liam shook his head. “How is that going to work? It's cool at night, did you bring any tents? Bed rolls? What will we eat?”

  “Yeah! I'm hungry!” piped up one of the annoying lion children. This one had been following him since they'd entered the woods asking eight hundred times if he could hold Liam's sword.

  “Me too!” chimed in another child, a short chubby one with curly hair. Liam didn't know this one's name either, nor did he care.

  “They're looking for us in the castle right now. Soon they'll widen their search. Our only chance is to get far enough away that they can't find us. If we go into Karsdale people will recognize us,” Aaron said in his patronizing, “I'm patiently explaining something to you because you're a fool,” tone.

  Who was the fool? Who'd left the castle with no plan except to get out? It sure wasn't him. He wasn't even consulted!

  “You say 'Us' like you're a Halett. You're not,” Liam said.

  Aaron ignored the bait but it hurt him, Liam could see it and it should. The man was a usurper, though to be honest he was hardly even a man at all. What did father see in him?

  “I know we can't camp in the woods without tents or food. I had planned to have Celia take some money and buy what we need in the village,” Aaron said.

  “Take Benny as well, he can be very helpful,” Giselle said from the rear.

  “I can I can, oh yes indeedy!” quipped the bard from her side. Like a street dog given a scrap of meat, he hadn't been more than two paces from Giselle since they'd exited the castle.

  “Perhaps we could send the children in to town as well and leave them somewhere,” Liam said.

  “Oh no you won't!” Giselle's hand formed a fist which she shook at her brother.

  “Nobo
dy is selling anyone,” Aaron said, sounding exasperated.

  Liam laughed. “We could sell them? Now that's something! I thought we'd just toss them in a ditch and be done with it.”

  “Liam!” Giselle said, eyes aflame.

  “Please tell me you brought some coin,” Liam asked, rubbing his face.

  “I did actually. I brought a well stocked purse that I'd filled just for...” Aaron searched about his person. “Now I don't remember if I tied it to my belt or... Let me search the bag.” Aaron paused to dig through the large leather saddle bag that hung from his shoulder like a lady's carry purse.

  Liam sighed, crossing his arms.

  “It is here,” said a low voice.

  The weaselman, of course. Liam reached for his blade.

  “No!” Aaron said. “Why would he give it back if he stole it?”

  “To lull us into a false sense of security!” Giselle said from the back of the party, eyes narrowed.

  “I found it on the trail. I was waiting for a rest to give it back,” the weaselman said.

  Aaron pushed his way through the brush, taking a few sharp brambles to the face which made him curse under his breath, until he arrived next to the weaselman. There he made a big show of graciously accepting back his own coin purse from the creature who'd probably stolen it.

  “Thank you very much sir,” Aaron said. “I don't believe I asked your name.”

  “It is well,” the creature said.

  “Your name is well?” asked Aaron.

  “Uh... No.”

  “Just give me the money,” Celia said, rolling her eyes.

  Aaron looked like he might protest for a moment, then sighed and placed the purse in her outstretched palm.

  “What are you getting?” Liam asked, hoping to hear a sensible list of supplies.

  Instead it was the bard who piped up in his sing song voice.

  “Nibs and nobs and bibbity bobs and a few frilly things for the laaaaadies!” he sang.

  Liam slapped his hand to his forehead and groaned.

  After the two had left he convinced Aaron they ought to move the rest of the group off the trail. Giselle and the children protested because they didn't like pushing through the thorny prickle berry thickets but Liam didn't care. It wasn't safe waiting on a trail just outside the town with no protection but a few trees and some brush.

  Best to back off a bit in case Celia or that bard were captured and told the enemy where they were. He didn't think Celia would give them up easily, but it wouldn't take much to make the bard sing, he thought with a wry smile.

  After a while he planned to leave the group and slip through the woods to a place where he could watch their previous location. He wanted to see who showed up before they saw him, just in case. Father had stressed this idea often on hunts. You never wanted to be hanging out in the breeze. It was a recipe for disaster because it invited attack from any predator that happened along.

  Liam had wanted to talk more with Aaron about this so called plan, specifically how he thought they'd remain unmolested with such a large slow party traveling the road South toward Valendam, but found his time divided between helping his sister keep her children quiet and staring off into space lost in thought.

  He kept ruminating on why father cared so much about Aaron. Father had never been the kind to take to weak men, yet had nothing but praise for Aaron. Liam suspected it was mother's doing somehow. He'd tried to ask her about it multiple times but failed. She'd always found some way to deflect the questions he most wanted answered. It was infuriating.

  He was getting tired of being angry about it though. Father Carmen at the Aeyrdfeld church spoke often of peace in the mind and the spirit through oneness with God. The Tian faith was one of the few things that made sense to him anymore. It kept him calm when it felt like everything else in his life was spinning out of control. He resolved to say a quick prayer and then head off to take up his watch post when there was a tug on the fabric of his cloak.

  “Hey,” said a tiny voice.

  “What?” he asked impatiently. This was the smallest of the children, a tiny little girl with large round eyes. As much as he disliked children in general, it was hard not to feel a little protective when they were this small and helpless.

  “Lady Giselle,” she said, but stopped and stared at her feet.

  “Yes?” he asked, trying not be impatient.

  “She won't believe me...”

  “About what?”

  “The singing man is bad.” Scowling, the girl's eyebrows crushed together so furiously it looked like they might weave together into one.

  “How is he bad?” Liam could understand why the girl might be frightened by him. The guy was weird, but all bards were, nothing out of the ordinary about that.

  “Real bad,” she said, tears in her eyes.

  “I'll watch him. I promise,” Liam assured her, lying. He put a hand on the girl's tiny shoulder for a moment. It felt awkward but he'd seen his sister do it. Though she would also hug the children and that's where he drew the line. He didn't have to though, the little girl hugged his leg and then picked her way back into the thicket to be with the others.

  When Liam finally heard footsteps approaching the sun had gone and the wind chilled but something was wrong.

  They were too many footfalls and too heavy. He'd expected just the bard and Celia, instead he could see at least six men moving in a loose formation through the wood. They were fanning out too, searching. He drew his long hunting knife from its sheathe. It was a black steel blade, more suitable to low light than his glowing veil sword.

  Though clearly proficient with their weapons, Liam's enemies were not accomplished woodsmen. They sounded like drunken oxen blundering about the brush, almost as loud as Aaron. It was easy for him to slip around behind to their North. He selected a target, stalked quietly, carefully and then planted his knife firmly in the man's neck.

  It was a sloppy kill. Hot blood gushed out on his hand as he twisted and then yanked the knife free of the bloody mess that had once been the man's throat. Liam helped the still twitching body to the ground as silently as possible, stealing a loaded veil pistol from his belt and the oil lantern from his hand. Then he retreated thirty paces North and paused, squatting as the light from the lantern washed over his red hand, still covered in the man's blood.

  Then he stood, discharged the pistol into the sky and threw the lantern back in the direction of the rest of the searching men. The lamp exploded into fire, lighting the dense brush into a bright blaze that illuminated the men now running toward him.

  Liam took off, running North along the game trail they'd followed before. He knew which way the trail led, knew the men would pass by if he found a dark corner and sat quietly enough, which they did.

  When they'd passed, running and shouting to each other, he doubled back. Liam had to get back to the rest and get them moving. There wouldn't be much time before the pursuers realized they'd been led astray.

  Unfortunately when he returned to the thicket where he knew everyone ought to be, where he'd told them to stay, no one was there. He cursed and kicked a log with his boot.

  Why had they left? Had it been the gunshot? Had there been another party of soldiers he missed? One from the South?

  “Psst!”

  “Who's that?” Liam blurted, spinning toward the noise, brandishing his bloody knife.

  “Quiet big one. Men will hear,” said a voice, raspy and low. Liam recognized it: the weaselman!

  “You! What did you do to them?”

  “They are safe. Come with me. Come quickly,” the creature said.

  * * *

  Chester Buckley stepped into the great riveted chamber that he'd been informed served as a lock to prevent the escape of toxic elements that might arise. The shining metallic coat he'd been given was as heavy as one of the old chain mail shirts but twice as expensive given the leafed metal outer lining wasn't made of iron or steel but gold. He didn't enjoy it but understood it
was considered a prudent precaution.

  He walked down the hall toward the laboratory at the distant end of the institute's underground test facility. It was convenient that the institute and Veil company headquarters had been built close enough together that they shared space below ground. It made it very easy to keep up to date on the status of important projects.

  He was greeted by several technicians who checked his suit before sending him down the slowly descending tunnel into the Veil power facility. At the final set of double steel doors Doctor Blutstein was waiting with his team.

  “So glad you could be here today!” said the little man with the enormous forehead and thick metal rimmed spectacles. “We have been preparing for this final test for months. Everything has been leading up to this moment. It's really quite exciting!”

  Buckley shook each proffered hand. “I hope to see your team make history today.”

  “I believe we will. All the preliminaries have been successful. All that remains is to throw the final switch and bring the engine fully to life,” said the doctor as he checked several boxes on a clipboard.

  “Excellent. When can we begin?”

  “Immediately! If you would just take a pair of veil goggles and follow me to the control room,” said the little man as he scuttled around the corner to an observation platform overlooking what appeared to be a Veil engine, only ten times as large. Instead of one focusing crystal there were dozens of them arrayed around the center in a haphazard pattern like the web of a drunken spider.

  Buckley raised an eyebrow. “I know this is a larger veil engine, I saw your reports, but how do you know it will produce extra output?”

  “This was also explained in detail in the repo...” The man noted Buckley's darkening expression. “Ah... let me explain,” said the doctor. “As you are aware, we believe veil engines work by opening a connection between our world and another one, one of pure power.”

  “Yes, yes.” Buckley nodded.

  “As you know we have had problems for years with our engines. Once the machine is started the power has always steadily diminished over time. We don't know precisely why this happens, there are some theories-”