Secret of the Sunstones, Part 1: The Wanton Kingdom

Chapter XXXIII : North

Lateday of Tertius, Fourth Day of Autumnmoon

Bram and the others left Saladin as soon as they gathered the necessary supplies and protective clothing. Géorg recharged his sandskipper at the wizard’s guild, giving Matthias more time to recover his manna. After the ambisanguinous scholar’s strenuous spellcasting, he needed a day or two of rest. Bram offered his remaining coin, but most of the funding came from the old man. The Knight worried what his debt would cost him later, but his priority was to make it to Rungholt and save the woman he loved.

The route ran northwest, through the remaining desert, to the Kitezhian border. It was a day’s ride, and from there, the road turned north and took a second day to reach Rungholt. The sandskipper was a simple design: mostly a rectangular platform with a control station. It measured three by six spans, with a footlong lip along the sides. The front of the platform had a glass panel to cut down on wind shear. Géorg took the pilot’s seat, located in front. Levers and controls jutted out from either side.

Bram and Yuri sat in back, along with Rosa, who still slept soundly. Her fever had broken, so they kept her under a blanket to keep warm. During the day, it would also protect her from the sun. Bram held her hand, while Yuri took a nap at his side. The bonnet once again concealed her white, wispy hair. Matthias sat with Géorg in front, keeping watch for spawn. Bram let the old man take the first watch, but as morn approached, he joined in front.

“So … where’d ya find her?” Matthias broke the silence as soon as Bram sat down. His voice was gruff, like he had waited all night to pose his question.

Bram figured the old man would ask, since it was clear by now that his father-daughter story was a lie. “Please, don’t ask. The truth won’t make a difference to you, anyway.”

Matthias rolled his eyes. “Come now, Bram. We’re on the road. Don’t ya think we should level wit’ each other?”

It wasn’t a tempting offer. Any line of questions was a slippery slope, since sooner or later, the sunstones would inevitably come up. Once knowledge was revealed, there was no taking it back. Bram didn’t owe it to the old man, either.

“For Yuri’s protection, and with all due respect, I prefer to keep it my own business.”

The magus’ eyes widened. “Do ya, now?” Then they narrowed. “Ya see, I think I might have a right t’ know. I saw the Mountains of Ur afire on my way to Saladin. Now, I’m here wit’ a guy who’s harboring a descendent o’ the Ancient Gaians. What’s a simple man like me t’ think?”

Bram remained calm and composed. “I don’t know anything about—”

“At attention, Soldier!”

The command came out of nowhere. Bram’s instincts lit up, and his body obeyed with perfect posture, just like he was trained.

Matthias chuckled, his grin wide and smug. “Hoho, Ah was right! Ah wasn’t born yesterday, Lad. That battle-worn face o’ yours, athletic build, the scar on yar side … you’re a military man, aren’t ya?”

Bram sneered, displeased at being trapped so easily. “So what if I am?”

Matthias dropped his grin, and his gaze drifted to Bram’s bag. “I’ve seen how closely ya guard that sack. Ah wonder what ya hide in there. Perhaps we should ‘ave a look?”

Bram glared back, his words as sharp as his sword. “I keep the last of my meager possessions in there, and I’d ask that you keep your hands off.”

Matthias scoffed. “Perhaps now’s not the time for answers.” He maintained his deadly gaze. “I’m patient, though, ya see. Sooner or later, you’ll be telling me what Ah want t’ know.”

Bram said nothing. He didn’t want to escalate a fight, but he had to keep at least some distance. Once they reached Rungholt, Matthias would go his separate way, and niceties along the way didn’t matter. Besides, information was dangerous. He knew how far Richard was willing to go in his insane pursuit for power, and even innocent leaks could very well sink the mission later. There was only one man he could trust to protect the Kitezhian sunstone, and that was King Henrich.

However, getting close posed a challenge. Henrich had many allies, and if just one of them learned Bram’s identity, they would blacklist him from entering the city. If that happened, he’d have no chance of getting anywhere near their king. After all, The War had ended just five short years ago, and memories of terrible acts performed by the Knights were still fresh in the minds of the Kitezhian people. They despised Angkor for what they had done, and Bram would carry that mark, no matter what news he brought.

He needed to find a way to reach King Brandt and earn his trust. If he failed, Kitezh would not survive Angkor’s attack. Richard commanded a formidable military machine, one that had grown even stronger since The War. If he got his hands on a second sunstone, no one in the world would be safe.

Bram considered his burden as the sandskipper glided along the contoured desert landscape. The day passed quickly, and the second night of their journey was about to begin. Orange sand dunes made a peaceful backdrop against the setting sun.

The last time he went this far north, it was thousands of feet overhead in his airship. With the Heron, he could fly from Angkor to Kitezh in less than two days. He missed being a captain, with the freedom to fly and the wind in his face. Even though he regretted the role that Angkor had forced him to play.

By nightfall, northerly features dotted the landscape. Mostly brush and brown grasses. Further north, these would transition to greener landscapes. Kitezh was a verdant land, ice cold for much of the year, except for the rainy season. The summer heatwaves would soon dissipate, and winter would turn it white.

Around midnight, Géorg veered off the main path to a small stream, where he could rest for the night. Bram kept watch this time, but the others took turns. Fortunately, the night passed without incident. Neither spawn nor bandit bothered them. Bram was pleased with the luck, and his companions were ready to set off at first light.

For most of the final day, Bram stayed at Rosa’s side, monitoring her temperature for signs of fever. Matthias had placed her in a kind of stasis, so that her body wouldn’t require as much food or water. She seemed at peace, which gave Bram comfort.

When they stopped for lunch, he spent some time with Yuri. She didn’t say anything, but she seemed pleased that he spoke to her. He talked about his childhood in the village of Providence, and what it was like growing up and going to school. He intentionally left out any mention of Kane. Not only was it painful to relive, but Yuri didn’t need to know about their past. To her, Kane was the assailant who murdered her village.

Bram kept his stories simple, glad to see Yuri smile and giggle. She stayed mute, but her spirits were high. Bram had nearly forgotten what it was like to live as a child, where the past and the future were less relevant than the present. He often carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but Yuri lived blissfully from one moment to the next. He envied her.

As they approached the Kitezhian border, Géorg stopped his sandskipper. “Bram, look here.”

Bram joined the one-armed man at the front of the craft and followed his index finger to a location on a tall spruce. On the trunk was a wanted poster, containing a perfectly sketched rendition of the wanted criminal, Abraham Morrison.

Matthias hopped off the sandskipper and tore the sheet off the tree. “Well, well … what ‘ave we, here? It looks just like ya, Bram!”

Bram kept himself composed. “I can explain.”

Matthias’s expression quickly turned sour. “Like the Burning Pits, ya can! So, what’d ya do? Defect from the military? Oh, ah know! Ya kidnapped the girl—”

“No!” Bram was forceful. “I’ll tell you. I admit that I was an Angkorian soldier, part of King Richard’s army. He gave my unit the order to destroy Yuri’s village, but … I couldn’t let that happen. I took Yuri and ran. Richard’s men still torched the village, and now he’s after both of us. I vowed to protect her, and I still will.”

Matthias shook his head. “And ya expect us t’ believe you, after lyin’ all this time? What’s yar real reason for travelin’ ta Rungholt?”

Bram took a breath to calm his nerves. The old scholar was eager to validate his skepticism, while Géorg remained undecided. He was trapped. If his companions lost confidence in him, there was no telling what they’d do. But if he told the whole truth, they might not even believe him. Worse, they might see an opportunity to turn him in and collect the bounty. He needed to stay sharp. Tell them just enough.

“Everything I said is true, but there is another reason I’m traveling to Rungholt. I happen to know that Richard intends to start a new war with Kitezh. I figured if I made it to King Brandt and warned him, he’d grant me sanctuary.”

Matthias and Géorg stared back at him, still looking unsure.

“War, eh? For what reason?”

Bram wanted to curse the old scholar. If he kept on digging, it would be difficult to keep the story believable.

He started small and simple. “Richard has a new weapon, one which he intended to test by targeting Yuri’s tribe in the Ur Mountains. We were told that we would battle against a hostile Ashingi tribe. Meanwhile, the weapon was smuggled into our gear. We knew nothing about the Ancient Gaians, nor did we know that our gear was going to detonate until the last moment. That’s why you saw the mountains of Ur on fire. As soon as I found out Richard had lied, I renounced my loyalty and escaped with Yuri into the mountains. I went straight to Saladin after that. You must believe me. If I don’t warn King Henrich, Richard will march his armies into Kitezh. And with this new weapon at his disposal, Rungholt will be completely unprepared!”

Matthias started cackling. “Boy, that’s rich! I’ve heard some stories in my day, but you want us to believe that Richard will start a war, just because he has a new weapon? Come on, now. It’s beyond reproach!”

“It’s not a lie!” Bram growled. He felt his grip on the conversation weaken. He was losing confidence. “I don’t expect you to trust me right away, but I’ll find a way to prove it to you. Just get me as far as the capital. That’s all I need!”

Matthias took his staff and thrust the butt of it into Bram’s chest, sending him reeling off the back of the sandskipper. He landed on his back, his body reeling from the shock.

“It’s too late for that, my Angkorian friend.” He faced Géorg. “What say we leave him here an’ take the kid. She’ll be safer wit’ us.”

Bram forced himself to his feet, muscles tensed. If it came down to it, he might need to defend himself. “Over my dead body.” He would never allow Yuri to be taken. Damn the old scholar for picking a fight! Still, the decision ultimately came down to the pilot of the craft. Bram looked to Géorg, who still appeared indecisive.

His heart raced. If both men forced him to leave, he’d lose his only mode of transportation. He’d be stuck at the Kitezhian border, dozens of leagues from the city, but with Yuri to care for and Rosa’s unconscious body in tote. He’d never make it.

Géorg seemed torn. He lowered his head in thought. “I think, eh … we should honor our agreement.”

Bram let out a pent up breath. He had never felt so relieved.

“What?” Matthias sounded shocked and dismayed.

The one-armed man spoke carefully. “This man has secrets, but … is not bad man. From one warrior to another … I believe him.”

Bram breathed a little easier, thankful for Géorg’s faith. But the veteran warrior ended with a warning, “Do not make me regret my decision, Soldier.”

Matthias rolled his eyes. “Wonderful! Ya expect me to sit here, next t’ a wanted criminal? Perhaps I’ll just go my own way, then!”

Bram wouldn’t grieve to see him go, but a small voice called out from nowhere.

“Mm-mat—thias ….” Yuri rose from her place on the sandskipper. “D-de-don’t g-go.”

The old scholar’s ice mask melted. He looked to Bram, sneered, then back to Yuri.

“Puh-puh—please?” she begged.

The cantankerous scholar finally relented. “Oh, fine. Ah might as well save my manna. After all, ah already paid for the damned charge on the sandskipper.”

Yuri beamed. Bram looked over at her, amazed. She was a miracle child in more ways than one. Her single, innocent plea doused the fire raging under Matthias’ beard.

Géorg merely shrugged. “What now? We go?”

“Not so fast,” Matthias interjected. “There’s still the matter of the Border Patrol, or ‘ave ya forgotten? Ah’m sure folks have seen the wanted posters. What d’ ya want to do if we run into someone lookin’ for Bram?”

The old man had a point. Kitezh had their own Border Patrol, which aimed to identify folks attempting to enter the country. Though their original intent was to cut down on emigrating refugees, they also served to identify foreigners who might not be welcome inside their country.

Bram sighed. “Border Patrol circles their designated regions twice per day. If they see us, they’ll insist on a search. Fortunately, they’re easy to avoid. If we wait for them to pass, we can sneak in right behind them. As for travelers looking to collect my bounty … let’s just avoid the main roads.”

Bram heard Matthias mutter under his breath. “Nice to ‘ave someone so familiar with the military policies here.”

Bram contained his outrage. “We should do some reconnaissance. They’ll be easier to avoid if we spot them first.”

Matthias huffed and shook his head in tacit agreement.

“Agreed,” Géorg was more vocal.

While the one armed man parked the sandskipper safely off the main path, the old man cast a spell of invisibility. It was awkward being in the scholar’s presence, much less relying on his magic. But he had to trust that Matthias was past the point of betraying him. They found a good vantage point atop a nearby hill.

After some waiting, they spotted three Kitezhian soldiers on viscar mounts. They dressed in full plate armor, with swords at their sides and bows on their back. Fortunately, they moved on and disappeared without incident.

Bram and Matthias returned to the sandskipper and continued north along an old service road. Géorg remembered it from his time in the Kitezhian army and assured them it would be free of travelers. Even so, Bram wore a scarf to hide his face. Just in case.

Kitezh was a mountainous region, littered with hills and valleys. During Autumnmoon, the air grew cold and damp. However, this year it was warm and dry. Still, a welcome relief from the desert, but atypical and unnerving. Matthias had purchased some Kitezhian wear to blend in, but it felt excessive, given the heat. At least the lateday was cooler.

As they neared their destination, Bram crawled to the front to speak with Géorg.

“How are things going up here?”

Géorg looked over his shoulder. “Nothing to report, Bram. We reach capital by sunset.”

Bram had a question he’d been meaning to ask and felt it was the right time. But due to the sensitive nature, he needed to ease into it. “I was thinking … I never had a chance to thank you about earlier. I owe you for standing up for me.”

Géorg shook his head. “Is nothing.”

“No, you went out on a limb for me, provided transport, and are responsible for saving the life of the woman I love. You’ve done so much, even though I’m just a stranger to you. I don’t mean to pry, but … I wanted to know why.”

Géorg grunted softly. “You question my generosity, because you think I should owe you nothing?”

“You don’t,” Bram reminded. “Of course, I’m still grateful.”

The one-armed man smirked. “True. But, eh … is my way to cope with many years of anger and hate.”

“What do you mean?” Bram asked.

Géorg stayed silent for a few moments before responding. “Believe it or no. I was like you, a warrior. Still am … at heart. I fought in Kitezhian army, until … injury took arm.”

He held up the stump next to his right shoulder. “Arm lost because of Angkor; and you … also from Angkor. My help to you, is like forgiveness. I no more want to hate, understand? Besides, also good reason to visit homeland.”

Bram lowered his head. He and Géorg had been on opposite sides during The War, but it was still hard to fully appreciate that fact. Here he was, receiving charity from a man who had been his bitter enemy just a few years earlier. He wondered how close he had come to fighting in the same battles.

Bram still felt the need to rationalize. “You don’t know anything about me. We’ve both been trained not to trust in the kindness of others. I … I can’t shake the feeling that there might be more.”

Géorg chuckled. “Very smart, I give you credit.” He beckoned Bram closer. “Listen. I tell story. Then you understand, yes?”

Bram nodded and sat a little closer. He wasn’t sure if it would put his concerns to rest, but he was willing to listen, and he hoped one day he might understand.

Géorg cleared his throat. “After losing arm, I found something … someone … who very well saved my life. Her name, Ilse. I cared for her, deeply. She was nurse, Kitezhian, but did not care about sides. She treated all patients, no matter country of origin. I think, I see what Rosa means to you … how much you are in need … and I believe the woman I loved would have wanted me to help. Ilse … has passed, but … this honors her. That is why I wish to believe in you.”

Bram regarded Géorg with wonder and humility. His story resonated. It was more than good fortune; it was fate.

“Thank you,” he said humbly.

Géorg’s face turned serious. “Just know, fellow warrior, does not mean I trust you. Can still change mind.”

He smirked, giving off vibes of tongue-in-cheek. Even so, Bram had a feeling there was plenty of truth in his statement as well. He nodded in understanding.

“What about you, Scholar?” Géorg called to the back of the platform.

“Eh? What d’ you want?” Matthias snapped back.

Géorg laughed. “I know you overhear. You cannot deny.”

“Well, you were plenty loud,” Matthias complained. “If ya wanted privacy, there’s a thing called whispering.”

“Matthias, please.” Bram needed to remove the stick up the magus’ butt once and for all. “We all have our reasons for traveling to Rungholt. What about yours? Didn’t you mention something about finding your daughter—?”

The old man’s expression darkened. “She’s none o’ your damned business.”

Bram slammed his mouth shut. He wanted to thaw the ice, not shatter it. “Forget it. Let’s just keep calm. Alright?”

Yuri looked up at Matthias and her face grew sad. The old scholar took notice and quickly grew remorseful. “No, wait … Ah’m sorry. I’ve just been on edge, ya see.”

Bram waved Matthias over, hoping he’d accept the invitation to sit up front. Sure enough, the old man crawled forward.

As he did, Bram gazed backward at Yuri, who had already crawled into a napping position. He was so curious about her. She seemed to act in the perfect moment, and then take great care to disappear from notice. Thinking of her, he hoped that speaking candidly might help Matthias to open up.

“I care a lot about Yuri, too, you know. She might not be my daughter; but right now, I’m all she has … and that means something to me.”

Matthias wore a long face. “My daughter’s name is Angela. She’s fifteen. Ah named her after my wife, because … well, because she died givin’ birth.” He paused, clearly choked up. “As much as Ah tried, Ah couldn’t save her. My magic failed me.”

An empty feeling formed in the pit of Bram’s gut. It seemed all three men had lost loved ones, but Matthias’ story was especially heartbreaking.

The old man continued. “My daughter has always been a free spirit, making her own decisions—just like her pa.” He paused, looking like he needed time to gather his thoughts. “Last year, she met a traveler. He came to Vineta with some kind o’ circus. He was a musician, and she spoke wit’ him after the show. Ah sensed a romance, and Ah … Ah might have … overreacted.”

The old man looked repentant. “Ah did a few things Ah shouldn’t ‘ave to chase him away—all in the name of protectin’ her. Ah thought Ah’d seen the last o’ him, but a week ago he came back. Apparently, he an’ Angela’d been correspondin’ over the past year in secret. They made plans and she … she ran away wit’ him.” Bram sensed the old man was tearing up. “Ah’ve been tracking her ever since, and sometimes … it takes all my willpower, just to stop worryin’.”

After the story, Bram felt guilty for reacting to the old man’s temperament. Matthias had his own problems, and until a few days ago, the Knight would have never understood that pain. Now, he understood all too well.

“Bram!” Géorg captured his attention. He pointed with his index finger. “Look!”

He scanned the northern horizon and saw small specks in the distance. “Those look like airships.” His heart skipped a beat. He had been expecting Angkor’s armies to march toward the city, but never once figured that Richard would attempt to fly straight in. The move would have been a failure in ordinary circumstances, but Bram wondered if the power of the sunstone was enough to take on a whole city.

“Géorg, we need to get this craft to the top of that hill for a better view. Quickly!”

The one armed man looked apprehensive. “Is risky. These platforms do not climb so well. Is, uh … very steep.”

Bram was worried. “Find a way. Please. Those are Angkorian airships. I have no doubt. We need to see what they’re up to.”

“Better do it, Mister Töller,” Matthias advised. “Ah’ll use my magic t’ help stabilize.”

Géorg nodded and turned the sandskipper along the steep contours of the hill. Yuri stirred in her sleep and came forward to see what was happening. Géorg kept the craft level, while Matthias mumbled words of magic. It took a few minutes to reach a good vantage point, but once he did, the view ahead was perfect.

Géorg pointed. “There. Rungholt, capital of Kitezh ….” He trailed off, eyes widening in surprise.

Yuri shrieked. Bram squeezed her hand as they both watched in horror.

“What in th’ Burning Pits are they doin’?” Matthias exclaimed.

“They’re attacking,” Bram answered. “Gaia, help us. They’re already bombing the city!”

End of Arc III : The Saladina Desert

… To be continued in Arc IV: The Angkorian Occupation