Into The Ruins (3 page)

They had already recovered the purple crystals from the downed creatures and were busy sprinkling the sugar-loaded water upon the corpses.  It would take a couple of days for the sugar to work, but by the end of the week, the bodies would have dissolved, leaving only the skeletons behind as a reminder of the battle.  Olar couldn’t help wonder who had first discovered that sugar would have such an effect, but it was now standard to rid the land of the corpses in this manner.  Besides, they wanted the bones.  The crystals would be taken to the Senior Caster in the village.  Unless treated properly as only the Caster could do, they would dissolve and be wasted before too many days had passed. 

He walked over where Ferkle stood with his staff seeing to the burned man.  The dark wood of the staff contrasted with the tip, a round smooth ball the size of a fist made of multicolored crystal that was glowing a deep orange at the moment while he did his best to lessen the pain and offset some of the damage to the wounded soldier.  Olar knew that Ferkle wouldn’t be able to help either the dead horse, or the man with the missing fingers who had been its rider.

The evening meal was served unusually late that night at Fen’s home.  It would have been postponed in any event because his elder sister Nora was delayed by her music lessons.  She’d had to agree to a late schedule in order to be accepted for instruction at all.  The new music maker, a flat rectangular box standing on four legs, with a row of keys at one end and a series of pre-strung strings inside running horizontally and parallel to the layout of the keys, had become the rage throughout Sedfair.  Talented women who could demonstrate a skill with the recently invented device were looked upon with envy by their less accomplished friends.  Already Nora was showing a talent for the business their mother operated, and with this ostentatious display of her skill in the musical arts, she would be one of the most envied young women in the village. 

Dinner was even later than Nora’s lessons would have required because of the condition of their wounded father, whose tardy arrival caused a great deal of concern.  It was then delayed even more by the stories he told about the attack that had resulted in his wound.  Despite his protests, Olar had been treated by Ferkle, the Army Caster, against both infection and to control the pain.  While the magic that would prevent infection was long lasting and would prevent the wound from becoming corrupted indefinitely, the pain control was already wearing off, and Fen could tell his father was in a lot of discomfort.

Fen had seen the complex set of runes that were marked upon the bandage.  One set had been for the infection, and the other for the dulling of the pain.  He had memorized both in case he might need either in the future.  They were complex enough that Fen suspected only the Caster who created them would be able to execute the spell.  Fen was certain he could recreate them from memory already, but his father would be a fool to allow an untrained novice to attempt a spell that acted upon his body.  The slightest misplaced rune or carelessly drawn glyph could result in dire, unwanted consequences. 

Of course, that would assume Fen could actually activate the spells.  He could recreate the symbology he was certain, but he didn’t know the activator phrases required for either.  He was starting to realize that one could determine much of the phrase from the runes themselves, and was starting to build a vocabulary of rune-phrase relationships, but the part that was linked to the glyphs was less clear.  Perhaps with training it would become more obvious.  Understanding such secrets was one reason he was anxious to begin his training at the University in Nals.

“Take the herbs,” Mara urged her husband.  “There is little point to be gained from suffering.”  Olar had been given medications by the Physiker to augment the magical painkiller because it had been known the effects of the spell would wear off by the end of the evening.

“It’s not that bad,” Olar objected bravely.  “The herbs will make me groggy and put me to sleep.  I want to finish dinner first, and then retire to my bed before the effect makes itself felt.”

Mara huffed obviously annoyed.  “We can bring your dinner to your room,” she pointed out. 

“I’ll be alright,” Olar insisted.  “Come, it’s getting late,” he said to the children.  “The sooner we eat, the sooner I can do as your mother wishes.”

Mara nodded to Fen and Ginold, who left for the kitchen to retrieve the pots containing the meal.  Plates were already in place, something Fen had seen to after cleaning up earlier.

With everyone in place, Fen did the honors, serving the food.  Normally his father would have seen to this chore, but he was not up to standing and enduring the movements that would have been required.  Fen served first his mother, then his older sister as was their right, and then his father.  He finished up with Ginold and himself, then sat and seeing his mother had started, attacked his own dinner.  Despite it being stew, the day’s activities had been long and trying, and he was hungrier than he realized.

“Tell me about the attack,” Ginold asked eagerly.  He saw the battles his father frequently engaged in as brave and exciting, and yearned for the day he could put on his own uniform and ride alongside his parent.

“It was a moderately sized herd,” their father explained.  “We were unlucky to have as many hurt as we did today.  It makes one aware that while the magical energies are mostly contained by the armor we wear, which must be somewhat minimized lest it become too restrictive to operate from horseback, the armor can only do so much to protect against the physical attacks.  I was distracted and allowed the beasts to get too close.  As a result I’ll be moving slowly for some time.”

“But you stopped all of them before they passed through the zone,” Ginold said, proud that their village still maintained the long string of successes against the creatures.  He knew that neither of the adjacent villages, where he had a couple of acquaintances, had faired so well in their defense against the Chulls.  Benton, to the south, had suffered an embarrassing attack just two months ago when a large herd had attacked.  More than a double handful of the creatures had made it into the village, killing a number of residents and doing untold damage to the village square, before being put down.

“Aye, that we did.  But the threat is clearly growing.  More sightings are being made, and the numbers this season already exceed what we had to deal with the whole of the last one.  We have even seen a couple of the more troublesome Durvin this year.”

“Where do they come from?” Nora asked.  “Mom says they were never spoken of when she was our age.”

Olar nodded.  “In those days the numbers were quite small.  When your grandfather was a child, they were totally unheard of. Something has changed, and their reappearance and growing numbers are cause for concern.”

“They grow out in the Wastelands,” Fen said, stating what everyone believed but which no one knew for certain.  Maybe they came from beyond, assuming there was something beyond.  No one had ever ventured more than a day’s ride into the inhospitable land.

“It’s the Southerns,” Ginold suggested with certainty.  “They are the ones driving the beasts at us.”

Olar smiled, then winced as he rearranged himself.  Others had suggested as much, but he didn’t believe it to be so.

The Southerns, the people otherwise known as the Baldari, were named after the jungle lands that covered the territory beyond the extensive range of mountains that bordered Sedfair to the south, had never been seen this far to the north.  They had been a problem, a growing one he admitted, for more seasons than most could recall.  A darker skinned people, somewhat smaller than the average citizen of Sedfair, and apparently without any skills in magic, they were fierce fighters and totally without mercy.  They came out of the Wastelands suddenly and in large numbers, attacking bordering villages taking away children, weapons, books and magical artifacts, and sometimes a Caster or two, which indicated they understood that magic existed despite having no apparent skills with it.  More than once the Army had chased after the attackers into the Wastelands hoping to capture members of the enemy force, or at least track them and see how they were making their way around the great mountains and using the Wasteland as a means to get to Sedfair.  Always the missions resulted in failure, the Baldari disappearing into the orange colored sands with uncanny ease.  Once more than two-thirds of the patrol that attempted to follow the Baldari was lost to the harshness of the land without ever encountering the enemy.  Olar knew the Baldari vexed the senior commanders of the Army, and the Queen had offered a large reward to any who could find a way to the lands to the south, hoping that raids could be run against them to eliminate the threat of the frequent unprovoked attacks.  Olar had heard of men who had headed into the Wastelands in search of the secret pathway, but as far as he knew, none had ever returned.

“I doubt that,” he said slowly to his younger son. 

“The origins were lost to the plagues,” Mara said finally.  She had allowed the conversation to go on this far, but it was time to let the matter rest.  She was proud her consort was one of the defenders, but it wasn’t a topic she wished to have them pursue at such length and especially not at their dinner meal.  Only the fact that Olar had been hurt had the topic been allowed at the table at all.

“The plagues?” Nora asked.  “What did the plagues have to do with it?”

“The series of plagues that disrupted society several thousand years ago set back civilization for a long time until it was discovered the unusual flowers you all have learned about were the source of the infections.  Now we eradicate the plants whenever they are found.  But the damage they did at one time was horrendous.  We lost technology, and much of the history of the world we once knew as well.  We believe the world was once connected, but the Wastelands changed all that.  The origins of the Wasteland and all that comes out of it are believed to predate the plagues.  We have been lucky that there hasn’t been a major outbreak of the plague in nearly fifteen hundred years, but what knowledge was lost, we have never found a way to regain.  I read at the university many years ago, that there is evidence we once were able to cross the lands now forbidden to us.  Of course, that is probably speculation.  I doubt we will ever know for certain.”  Mara didn’t know that in addition to the lost history and knowledge, Sedfair had lost those with the ability with inherent magic; those able to control the magical powers without the need to use symbols and spoken spells.

“Perhaps the Queen needs to order a carefully trained and equipped expedition into the Wastelands to see what is really there,” Fen suggested.

“Even magic fails in the Wastelands,” Olar told his son.  “Ferkle has indicated as much to me in the past when we ventured several glass into the forbidden lands after a herd.”

Fen was momentarily silent.  He couldn’t imagine not being able to execute a single spell at all.  What could make a place where such conditions could exist?

Afraid the subject was going to return to the matter she wished to move away from, Mara turned to Fen and said, “Do you have any idea what Mayor Stanner wishes to see you about?”  She had been informed about the requested meeting when she had returned earlier.

Fen shrugged.  “I have no idea.  I hope nothing has changed.”

“What might have changed?” Olar asked.  “Fen passed the tests easily and will be taken for training.  I just hope you show as much ability once you arrive in Nals as you frequently exhibit here.  I would hate to see you end up like Ferkle.  As important as he is to us, the Army usually gets the men with middle level ability.  The more skilled Casters, mostly women, but also the few men who really excel, remain at the Guild in the capital to serve the Queen.  That’s what you must strive for.”

“I have heard rumors that the royal treasury is being burdened by the constant threat from the Baldari and the Chulls,” Mara said.  “It might be they are planning on cutting back.  Perhaps they plan to delay the class a season, and take new apprentices every other year.  Since they provide for all expenses, the training of so many must be quite costly.”

Fen wasn’t sure how he felt about his mother’s speculation.  He was a bit unsettled about leaving home, but he desperately hoped for the chance to be trained.  It was his hope of escaping the restrictions his society seemed intent on laying on him.  He also hoped there wouldn’t be a delay for another reason.  The Queen was turning sixty at the end of the summer.  By law, she could no longer continue as ruler of the land.  A new Queen would be chosen by the Guild from among the Hundred Families, the elite of Sedfair. The new Queen could potentially change the rules and return the Guild to the older school of thought which denied entrance to males, regardless of demonstrated skills.  He wanted to be in place and have proved himself before such a change might take place.

“Perhaps they have decided to allow women only,” Ginold said, echoing Fen’s fears.

“It’s nothing like that,” Nora spoke up from the far side of the table.  “It seems they are changing the procedure for collecting new apprentices.  Instead of sending a Guild representative to each village, those chosen last year will have to gather at designated cities.  Fen will have to go to Talmara to join those to be taken to the capital.”

“Talmara?” Mara said in surprise.  “That’s almost five days ride from here.  Why would they require this?  Fen has never been there.  Who will go with him to show him the way?  For that matter, where did you learn this?”

“From Ahrn,” Nora replied.

Ahrn was the eldest son of the Mayor, and Fen knew he wished for Nora to look favorably upon him.  Fen knew that Nora liked to toy with the young man, but despite his good looks and family connections, was not someone she would consider for a consort.

Mara shot Nora a look.  She had hoped her daughter had stopped playing around and was focusing on those she might want to consider seriously.  She turned to Fen.

“You must be certain to be on time for the meeting.  I want to know immediately if we must make arrangements for you to travel.”

Fen nodded his understanding.  If Nora was correct, then matters weren’t as bad as he had feared.  A trip to Talmara without being under the guidance of the Guild’s representative could be interesting.  He suspected once he became under the control of the Guild’s Casters, he could find himself to be very restricted for some time as to what he might try with his gift.

Changing the subject once again, Mara said, “You promised to tell us about the incredible present you brought home today.”