Stories from a clever mercenary in a wild world.
This is one of my earlier electronic sketches, learning how to use layers to my advantage. Originally I’d conceived this as Zare going back to visit the ruins of Galhara, but it could also be Zare exploring the ruined villa. Though, far too green to be the ruined villa–it is, after all, fall there.
“This is the back entrance,” explained Quilll, sounding apologetic as we filed in. “This passage leads to the main hall, and this to the left to the kitchens and larders. We can block the door behind us and turn the horses loose in the main hall—it’s grassy now and there is an old fountain we can fill for them from the well in the courtyard behind you.” He gestured broadly and led the way left toward the kitchen.
There was plenty of rubble around, and not much roof to cast shade even with the sun going down. But the hallway was passable and the six Galhari followed Quill while Jemin took the reins of the horses and headed for the main hall.
The house had been splendid once. Little bits of the carved trim remained on the walls, hinting at the taste and wealth of the former owners. The kitchen Quill led us to was huge and still had most of its ceiling. He kept going into what was clearly a sizeable pantry–sunken a few steps into the ground and lined with shelves that still held dusty jugs and jars. At first I thought he was looking for food, but he went straight to the back and pushed on a stone in the wall. With a soft clunk the wall swung open like a door on hinges, revealing another passageway leading down.
“Follow me, we can rest in here,” Quill trotted down the steps familiarly and we followed.
“What better place for a secret room than with easy access to the pantry,” commented Ayglos when we’d reached the bottom.
“I believe the first lord intended it for a wine cellar,” Quill replied. “Then a later lord decided this one was far too small.”
“Too small?” I marveled. The room was plenty long, most of it was dark but there were slits in the walls near the ceiling that allowed daylight and fresh air inside. It appeared that the cellar had been used to store excess furniture, but only half-heartedly as the room was by no means full. There were chairs in stacks against one walls, a thin table, a bookshelf and a pair of wardrobes. Quill was rummaging in a corner and produced some candles and a lamp. Ayglos helped him light them while we looked for places to spread our beds.
“No one comes close to this villa, by order of the Nether Queen.” Quill hung the lamp from a hook on the inside wall. “But it is still safer down here than in the main house—warmer, also, and drier.”
“Why this villa?” I asked.
“The owner was one of her staunchest opponents during the war with Dalyn. They say that he killed one of her favorite commanders and nearly reached her in one of the last battles of the war. She didn’t forget. This place is an example of what happens to her enemies.” Quill’s voice sounded husky, but he turned back toward the stairs before I could ask more questions, “There are one or two others she destroyed to make a point, but this is the only one that she forbade to be rebuilt.” Pausing at the foot of the stairs, he turned back and bowed, not meeting my eyes, “If you excuse me, I will see what I can do about water.”
I thought about following him to find out more; why did he know his place, to whom did it belong, had he truly been overcome with emotion just then? I decided that following would be too forward. I might ask Jemin, though.
Quill wasn’t gone long, but when he returned with Jemin we had quite a bit done. Ayglos and Namal had found eight serviceable chairs and set them around the thin little table. Nadine and I had spread the bedrolls deeper in the room, then with help dragged the wardrobes out a little to block view of the bedrolls from the stair—just a little more protection.
“You’ve been busy,” said Quill with a smile. He lofted a large, chipped, pitcher with one hand and pushed the hidden door closed with the other. Jemin was already lumbering down the stairs carrying a full bucket in one hand an empty basin in the other.
Ayglos and I met Jemin at the bottom of the stairs, Ayglos insisted on taking the bucket of water and I snatched the basin out of his other hand before he could protest.
“Thank you,” said Jemin, obviously feeling awkward.
I smiled at him, “You’ve done quite a lot for us, we’re grateful too.”
Quill reached the bottom of the stairs and Jemin reached out a hand for Quill’s pitcher, as if he wasn’t sure how to walk into the room without carrying something. Quill handed the pitcher over, and then I noticed that he had a sowers bag slung over his shoulder, and it was bulging and heavy.
“What do you have?” I asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
Quill grinned. “Come see.”
He led the way to the table, where Ayglos had already set down the bucket, and hoisted his bag onto the table. It thunked heavily. He reached in and fished out a glass jar full of something dark.
“Preserves!” exclaimed Nadine.
“Are they still good?” asked Namal.
“We’ll find out,” replied Quill, unloading the rest of the jars onto the table.
Everyone took turns cleaning up with the pitcher and basin while Quill and Jemin gathered our food supplies and set about opening the jars. Jemin announced his success cheerfully, “Raspberry preserves!” He sniffed the contents and grinned. “Still as wonderful as the day they were jarred.”
Raspberry preserves improve almost everything they touch—even waybread. We crunched on our sweetened fare while the sun set and darkness enfolded the ruin and our hiding place. We swapped stories about the past two weeks and I lent Nadine and Mother Boitumelo’s satchel to treat Father’s injuries. Or try to. Then, finally, we slept. For the first time in two long, harrowing weeks, we were together and safe.
Armor makes chicas look bulky. That, and, you know, mistakes that you color in to cover.
Nadine and I walked together leading the horses, father on Hook and mother on Sinker. Jemin walked next to Hook, unobtrusively ready to catch our father if he fell as we picked our way up and down hills. Our brothers walked ahead with Quill and a few of the men, the rest were behind, or scouting. We’d spent so much time sneaking through the woods in these past days that I wasn’t sure I could be loud if I tried.
Nadine leaned close to me, “Ayglos said that you were able to rescue the girls from the circus who were taken when we were, I am glad.” She kept her voice low enough that I doubted even our parents could hear us.
I nodded. “Jemin and I found them and got them out—I was looking for you, too, but you weren’t there.”
Nadine grimaced. “No, the officer who found us knew father and mother on sight, and guessed about me well enough. He took us straight to the Regent of Gillenwater.”
“Regent?” I asked. “Not the queen?”
“The queen!” scoffed my sister, “Don’t you remember? Queen Glykeria is only twelve, and I got the impression she spends most of her time at Hirhel. Prisoner or protégé, who can tell? We wouldn’t even have learned where she was had father not demanded to see her. No, Gillenwater is ruled by the Regent, a weasel of a man named Fotios.”
I glance at Nadine, her voice carried a bite I wasn’t used to hearing.
She continued, “He immediately packed us into a carriage and set us on the road to Hirhel. I believe he sent ravens ahead of us, so when we do not arrive we will be missed.”
“We figured they would have,” I agreed.
“I have never been more grateful for the steep slopes of the Magron Mountains,” said Nadine, “They prevented us from going straight to Hirhel, but sent us the long way to take the Bandui. We were plagued with wagon trouble, which meant little to us except that the guards were ill tempered and some were rough with us before their commanding officers could intervene. The officers were determined to bring us to the Nether Queen in tact, for her to have the full privilege of taking us apart, I guess.”
“But it made all the difference. We were able to catch up,” I pointed out, looking at my sister and trying to fathom just how close we’d come to missing them. The mercy of Eloi manifest in a few bad wheels.
We walked in silence for a time until Ayglos came back to walk with us. He addressed our father, who was looking pale under his copper tipped beard. “Quill has suggested a hiding spot outside the city walls: This side of the river is lined with villas and summer homes. Some of these have been abandoned since the conquest. They are much closer to us than the city walls, and we could rest there until he can get us a secret audience with the king.” Ayglos eyed the king with concern. “With your permission, father, he would take us there rather than make you travel further in your condition.”
Zam the Great nodded. “That sounds wise,” he replied, further confirming to his worried offspring that he was in dire condition.
Ayglos bowed slightly, nodded to Nadine and I, and returned to the front of the column to bring word to Quill and Namal. After another hour’s walking, Vaudrin and the few other men at the front came trotting past us and on back down the line. Then, to my surprise, the whole column split off and headed to the left, leaving us with only Quill and Jemin. Ahead of us the forest ended at a low rock wall. Beyond the wall spread a well-groomed lawn and flower gardens.
Quill turned right and led the way alongside the kept estates—keeping well under the cover of the trees. We passed so many hedges, orderly rows of Cypress trees, and walled gardens that I had no idea where one holding ended and another began. Occasionally there was a flock of sheep or goats and once or twice I saw the peak of a house in the distance.
The sun was just starting to sink when we came to some fields where the grass was overgrown and the cypress trees had gotten woolly without a gardener’s love. Here, the rock wall, which had run largely unbroken along the edge of the forest, had been knocked down and scattered. Quill led us over the rubble and through the overgrown meadow. Another overgrown meadow awaited on the other side of the wild cypress, and yet another beyond that. These meadows weren’t just lawns gone wild, but fields left fallow that now grew a varied assortment of grains and weeds. I noticed a lane running along the edge of the meadows to the left, but Quill led us diagonally across the lumpy, overgrown land as if he knew exactly where he was going.
Quill’s shortcut finally led us out onto another lane which in turn came to a tall but crumbling rock wall. The wall was shrouded by gangly climbing roses which were clearly enjoying their freedom. I was admiring their late fall blooms when the wall ended and Quill turned right abruptly.
We followed, and before us, rising out of the weeds and bedecked with ivy like a naiad of song, was all that remained of the villa. What had clearly once been a multi-story structure was now a burned out shell. The limestone facing for the first floor had survived, but was battered beneath nature’s adornment. A few blackened wood beams stuck out against the sky like ribs on a carcass.
Quill was standing in a huge arching doorway—though the door itself was in splinters on the ground nearby. “Please,” he bowed, “come in.”
Unicorns–or kiroen as they are called in Zare’s world–haven’t made an appearance in the River Rebellion. But this is how I imagine Rosh, the kiroen Zare meets in the Badlands Job.
This is an older piece of art, from last year sometime I think. I don’t think I have shared it here yet. I was putting particular effort into cloaks and hoods for awhile there. You can see my control over the water and ink slipping on her face, in particular! It’s all practice.
It was past noon when the land dipped down again, the Cymerie flashed into view between the trees on our left. She was wide here, and inviting. Idly, I watched the sun glinting on her waves as we rode. The ridge swept up in front of us and before we could climb it a voice hailed us from the top. “Milady, Captain!”
We looked up and saw the familiar frame of Vaudrin silhouetted against the sky.
“Well met!” cried Quill.
We urged our horses up the steep embankment. Vaudrin was waiting for us at the top with several of Quill’s men.
“We were worried that you hadn’t made it out,” said Vaudrin, “We were setting out to find you.”’
“We ran into some trouble,” replied Quill, dismounting and clasping Vaudrin’s hand in greeting. “Did you get the royal family?”
“Yes,” Vaudrin nodded. “I will take you to them.” Vaudrin turned to me and offered me a hand down. I didn’t exactly need one, but I accepted the gesture and slipped off Hook.
“They’re here?” I asked him, breathless.
Vaudrin nodded again, “Yes, milady, follow me.” Jemin took Hook’s reins and followed behind Quill and I as Vaudrin led the way through the woods. The men fell in behind the horses. Vaudrin was talking, mostly to Quill, “The men are covered in cuts and bruises, but mercifully no broken bones or deep wounds. We’re drying out well enough.” He lowered his voice, “The king may have cracked ribs, though, and appears to have been beaten some before we got to the river.”
I was desperately eager to see my family, and suddenly afraid that they would not be as I remembered them. My heart quickened as we came to more of Quill’s men and then the rest of the camp opened up before us in a small clearing. I found them immediately: Off to the side, my mother and sister were sitting next to a prone figure and my brothers were hovering nearby. I choked and ran forward, leaving Hook’s reins dangling in the breeze.
My mother was on her feet in an instant and caught me in her arms. I felt Nadine put her arms around us also and we blubbered words of greeting, breathing in each other’s scent and holding on. After a few heartbeats my mother held me at arm’s length. “Zare, my darling girl, safe and sound and so beautiful!”
I could say the same about her. Silver twisted through the dark hair that waved about her face, loose and unruly from her troubles, but breathtaking anyway.
“You’re leaner than a whippet, has there been no food?” she asked, some concern edging into her face as she looked me up and down.
“We’ve been running a lot,” I said. Reaching out I clasped Nadine by the hand and returned the inspection. They were both thinner than before, too, it showed especially in their faces. But they were happy. Tears brimmed out of my soul and escaped down my cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“Oh, Zare!” Nadine pulled me out of Mother’s grasp and squeezed me close. “You must tell me everything. Ayglos and Namal have started, but it seems you’ve had the most excitement! I want to hear all!”
I nodded, “But only after you’ve told me what happened to you! And where is Father?”
“I’m here, Little Zare.”
My mother and Nadine stepped aside and I dropped to my knees next to my father. Zam the Great was sitting up, and Namal had just finished positioning a blanket between him and the tree. “Are you alright, father?” I choked.
His beard was longer now, and underneath he was pale, but smiling. “You should see the other,” he lifted his right arm and I ducked under it for a hug. “Remko and I were a bit outnumbered,” he squeezed me close. “I’ll be alright now.”
“These wounds are from two weeks ago?” I sat up. “How badly are you hurt?”
He grimaced. “A few well-placed kicks will do plenty to keep them from healing. The tumble in the carriage didn’t help, either.”
“Those bastards,” I spat.
“Zare!” my mother chided, but it was reflexive. She wasn’t the least bit scandalized—not after a siege and a year of living in the circus.
“How is Remko?” asked Nadine, breaking in.
At her question, my brothers and I looked at one another and wilted. It fell to Namal to explain, “He was alive when we left him with Boitumelo…” his voice trailed off into the silence of vain hope.
Nadine bowed her head and our mother put her arm around her shoulders. I touched the hilt of Shiharr. Shiharr and Azzad, Remko’s spectacular gifts. I was so accustomed to the weight of the daggers now I had almost forgotten about them snugged to the small of my back. I traced the pommel with affection. Even if Remko had not survived his wounds, I had no doubt that he had gone to God.
“Your majesties,” Quill bowed, “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“Quilleran Rydderick,” said my father.
Quill paled a little. “Your majesty,” he bowed again.
My father regarded him sternly and I shifted back a little. He wasn’t really going to yell at Quill for this whole mess, was he? It wasn’t his fault we’d hidden in a circus that just happened to be at Gillenwater the night they struck.
“According to my sons, we owe our lives to you and your men,” continued my father gravely.
Quill blinked, evidently as unprepared for that statement as I had been. “As I owe my life to your family,” he managed finally. “I would likely have drowned or been captured if your daughter had not intervened, and later prevented me from dying of my wounds.” He gestured to me, and then to Ayglos and Namal.
“Nevertheless, I am eternally grateful,” my father inclined his head. Every inch a king in his rags and scraggy beard. I was proud. “Now, what were you interrupting about?”
Quill swallowed, “Your Highness, we need to keep moving. If possible. There is still the chance that we were pursued from the road. We will have to sneak you into the city—we’d like to do so tonight if possible. My men and I have already been gone too long.”
“How have you explained your absence?” asked the king.
“For most, we were a large hunting party—our three best hunters did indeed stay behind to hunt so we will have something to show on our return. Others were on leave or feigning illness,” explained Quill. “We will slip you into the city tonight if we can, and ourselves make a public return tomorrow with our game.”
My father nodded. “Very well.” He looked up at Ayglos and Namal, “Come, help me up.”
I scooted out of the way as my brothers stepped forward and helped my father get gingerly to his feet. Nadine picked up the blankets and folded them.
“Do you think you can ride?” Ayglos asked.
My father grimaced. “Movement of any sort sounds difficult,” he replied. “But we would certainly move faster if I rode.”
Jemin was already leading Hook forward. The burly man knelt and offered his knee to help the king mount. Hook wasn’t a huge horse, but pain still emanated from my father as he stepped up and pulled himself on board. It was several long moments before he straightened even a little in the saddle. Quill’s men busied themselves getting ready to go, and we royal children tried not to stare with worry at our father.
Clothes are hard to draw. I need to practice more.
Jemin had done just fine without us. When we found him, he was in the midst of tying the soldiers together. One of the lamps was still lit, sitting on the ground and casting a small pool of golden light. Jemin stopped and drew his sword when he heard the horses, but then relaxed when he saw Quill and me.
“You’re alright,” he said, openly relieved.
I nodded. “Thanks to Quill.”
Jemin sheathed his sword and knelt to finish tying the soldiers. The Nether Queen’s men were both banged up, but neither looked fatally wounded. They watched us sullenly while Jemin worked. One of them sneered, “You’re the rebels from the forges, aren’t you? Same dark armor.”
From behind them, Jemin’s eyes flicked up to Quill’s. What would happen if Dalyn was implicated too soon? I saw Jemin start reaching for his sword again.
“Galhara’s revenge is only beginning,” I addressed the soldiers, my voice low with authority. I sensed Quill’s and Jemin’s eyes on me, but I ignored them and looked down on the bound soldiers. “The Nether Queen will long rue the day she took my city.” I held their gaze coldly, letting them absorb that they were my prisoners now. As fear began to creep into their faces Jemin clubbed them with the pommel of his sword and they both slumped to the ground unconscious.
“We should go,” said Quill.
“Would you have killed them?” I asked, as Jemin mounted Sinker.
Both men looked grim.
“Will your father approve of Galhara’s role as instigator?” asked Quill after a pause.
“You needed one,” I retorted as he turned his mount and led the way into the dark forest.
We moved at a conservative pace, even once we grew accustomed to the dark. Aiming south and east we rejoined the Cymerie far enough downstream from the bridge that we couldn’t see torches or hear voices carried on the river’s roar. We stuck as close to the river as we could, but the banks were steep, and the land was rough. Frequently we had to retreat into the forest to get around steep or rocky hillocks. It was slow going, especially in the dark. Also, the further we traveled, the more I hurt. My face and arms ached worst, and exhaustion began to drag at my consciousness. I struggled to pay attention to the forest, and keep watch for sign of either the carriage or pursuing soldiers. There was, after all, a chance that soldiers from the road had had the presence of mind to chase the carriage from the river bank. But we didn’t know if they had because Quill and Jemin hadn’t stuck around to watch. They had rushed to save me; I could hardly hold that against them.
I didn’t argue when Quill called a halt. He and Jemin dismounted, and started spreading bedrolls by a huge fallen tree. I sat mutely on Hook trying to work up the strength to slide off. Quill came over and offered me a hand down. I took the bedroll he handed me and while he untacked Hook I spread the thick cloth between Quill’s and Jemin’s, the customary place for a noble with bodyguards. Also, the warmest. Perhaps it was presumptuous, but I was too tired to care. I drifted to sleep almost as soon as I lay down.
When I awoke the forest was gray with dawn. Jemin was already strapping his bedroll to Sinker, and Quill was walking toward me as if to wake me.
He smiled when he saw me moving. “Glad to see you’re awake; we need to go.”
I got up stiffly and rolled up the bedroll. I was cold. Water and a little dried meat saw us on the move again. The sun rose higher turning gray dawn to gold morning. Eventually I started to feel awake and wonder why we hadn’t met the others yet. We had been riding a couple of hours when we came to a flat space on the river shore and saw the large silhouette of an overturned carriage. My heart leapt. I urged Hook into a canter.
“Wait!” Quill called, and I ignored him.
In a few short strides we reached the carriage and circled it. It was roughed up—the wheels smashed off, the axles and shaft were long gone. Gouges stood out pale against the dark sides. It was empty. My heart thundered in my chest. Jumping off Hook I turned to the river, “What have you done with them?” I demanded.
Quill and Jemin cantered up and dismounted. I was vaguely aware of Jemin stooping to inspect the ground while Quill followed me as I headed for the water. I reached the river and waded in just as Quill arrived and grabbed my elbow. “Zare, don’t do anything stupid.”
“Where is my family?” Angrily I spun to face him—uncertain if I was asking him or the Cymerie. The current was strong, and I could feel it tugging at my feet, even though I wasn’t even up to my knees.
Quill didn’t let go, “The carriage is empty but fairly intact, they probably got out here and moved on to a safer place.” His eyes flicked from mine to the water swirling around us. “Do not accuse the river of anything yet.”
At least not while I’m standing in it, is what he didn’t say. Being as it was an ill-tempered river. Reluctantly I yielded to Quill’s tugging and waded back to the shore. The water held onto us, like the river was loath to let us leave. I looked distrustfully at her, but Quill put his arm around my shoulders and steered me back to the carriage.
Jemin stood waiting for us.
“Anything?” asked Quill.
“There are tracks,” Jemin nodded downriver. “Lots of tracks all over this area, but a trail leaves following the river.”
I inspected the carriage again. While the outside was clearly pummeled, Quill was right; the inner body was pretty well preserved. I turned back to Quill and Jemin, “More riding?” I asked.
They nodded.
“Lovely.”
We remounted and Jemin took the lead. We plodded over the rough land while Jemin paused now and then to stare at the ground or bushes. I felt myself swinging between weariness, impatience, and indifference, and endeavored to contain my unruly emotions. We would find my family. Everyone was fine, and they were with Dalyn’s soldiers. We would find them.
The Legend of Zare Caspian 