PART II
“So your ‘master plan’ essentially consists of just riding out there alone?” Belinay asked.
I was on the receiving end of another woman giving me a measuring look. My wife was curled up in my favorite chair, rereading my copy of Cosmology by Netius the Elder. Belinay was looking at me over the top of the scroll. “I know you said the place is abandoned, but what about traps?”
“Sachya didn’t see anything like that.” I said, “Besides it’s a villa, not a treasure vault. No one puts traps in the middle of where they live.”
“Oh really? No one…” Belinay looked past me to where the rare texts room was. She was positively scowling when she looked back at me.
“Uh, …look if by some chance there’s an ancient library there I promise I’ll stay away from it.” And yeah okay – if you know me at all, you’re right - that was a bald faced lie. If there was a library in the ruins I’d swim through a river of scorpions to reach it. My wife certainly wasn’t fooled. But I got lucky. Rather than call me out she moved on.
“Special Weather? Wild animals? Bandits?”
“I have gear for that and I’ll take all my flintlocks. If worse comes to worse I’ll abandon the horses and slip sideways…all the way home on foot if necessary.” That plan made good theory but I’ve never tested the proposition. As it happens there is essentially no strain to that particular manifestation of the Arcanum. So I could probably do it over and over again without passing out or exploding my head. But no one I knew had ever tried to cast it every few seconds over extended travel either. Most vals can’t learn it at all, though somehow its part of my unusual heritage. Mostly it’s only elorii who use it. And as an Altherian I’m not overblessed with an abundance of elorii friends.
“You trust Sachya?”
“Uh…Saycha?” Where did that come from? “Sure. I mean she’s … a Milandsian. Maybe if there was some magical ‘Golden Idol’ involved … but it’s just frescos. It’s not her kind of thing. Or … I don’t even know. Once upon a time she was Dad’s squire. So yeah. I trust her.”
Belinay got up and crossed the floor to me.
“You realize don’t you that this is a dumb idea?” She leaned in and I felt her soft lips on the corner of my mouth. She snuggled against me for a moment. “Some women would worry about a rival lover,” she pulled away and padded back to the chair.
“Just make sure you come home in one piece.” _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I can sit a horse well enough, but the bandits of the Blessed Lands are all masters of the saddle. Travelling alone, I kept a very wary eye out on the horizon. Thankfully the trip out proved to be uneventful. In the morning light, with dramatic long shadows still on the ground, the Blessed Lands has a stark inspirational beauty. I found the first few hours of travel calm and peaceful.
Following Sachya’s directions I trotting out to a flyspeck village called Broken Arch. There some hard eyed men watched me while I paid for the privilege of watering my mounts. Not exactly friendly. But there were also lots of kids merrily playing a game with a rag ball in the dust. I figured the place must be alright. From Broken Arch it was a straight shot to some scrub infested hills about three miles away.
So far so good.
If I hadn’t known where the villa was, I never would have wended my way deep enough into the thorny brambles to spot the ruins. I wondered a little why Sachya had come this way at all. The sun beat down on me, and I was pretty much done with"the poetry of the morning light" thing. The afternoon was hot. My bottom was sore, I was sweating, and everything looked brown and grey and drab. Thankfully I found it, half buried with sand and grit. My heart beat a little faster at the thought of new secrets from the past.
Bandits were still a real concern. So I made myself take the time to look thoroughly for ambushes, recent encampments or even just signs of passage. Nothing. The area was essentially pristine.
Yes! Dumb idea or not, I was going to get away with this. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
The layout, from what I could see, was a somewhat like the large domus of a Coryani senator. But the entrance was buried and half collapsed and the few windows on the exposed wall were tiny things, high up and narrow like arrow slits. If this place is early Coryani and not First Imperium they probably are arrow slits. I cursed myself a little because I hadn’t asked Sachya where and how she had entered the building. And, you know, in retrospect that would have been a pretty useful question.
I wasn’t getting in at ground level.
So I hobbled the horses and got up on top. I was a little surprised to see that the roof ran across the entire structure. In Coryan, a structure this big would have had an open interior space. Probably a columned peristyle open to the sky. But given the weather in the Blessed Lands I could understand a desire to restrict ones exposure. Or maybe the place did date to the First Imperium and wasn't on a Coryani floor plan. Without more details it was hard to know.
The roof sloped ever so slightly inward to a compluvium. To the uninitiated, that’s the opening in the roof over the impluvium below where rain water is gathered. For me, it was going to be my front door. I carefully picked my way across ancient tiles to look down. Some light was slanting in but I wanted to illuminate the floor. I lit a torch and dropped it down.
I could see sand and grit had blown in over the ages and had made a shallow dune bellow me. The torch sputtered, but even in the uneven light I could see lots of tiny tracks from mice. Or maybe small lizards. Obviously not a threat. I’m no wildlife expert, but I thought the tracks were a good sign. Whatever it was that made them was running around freely– so probably no dangerous predators were lairing here.
I had brought up two long spears and a backpack full of “useful things.” I pulled a coil of rope from the backpack and tied the spears together in an “X” and braced them across the compluvium. I then dropped the extra length of rope to the floor and pitched the backpack over. It landed with a loud thud and I waited a long beat.
No response from anything inside.
I think it’s just me.
So I climbed down.
_________________ Eric Gorman
AKA Ambassador Tukufu, man of letters, tomb raider and Master Sword Sage . . . and Sir Szymon val'Holryn, Order of the Phoenix Formerly Sir Jaeger val'Holryn. Weilder of the Holy Avenger: Thonanos. Gave his soul to help free King Noen
Last edited by val Holryn on Sat Oct 24, 2015 3:24 pm, edited 1 time in total.
|