A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands

Book 1: Chapter 38: Return to Ansan

Book 1: Chapter 38: Return to Ansan

The sword is a truly noble weapon for the traveler. A good blade is perfectly balanced for both offense and defense and is the symbol of an honest man. A man is judged by the quality of the weapon on his hip.

- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC

My dreams were of a different flavor this time. The tentacled creatures of the void did not disturb me. Nor did the susurrations of the cruel whispers that promised an eternity of suffering intrude upon my sleep. Instead, I endured a frustrating dream of battling, swift-moving, hooded elves that moved like bottled lightning. I tried attacking them with my shortsword, but my limbs felt like they were moving through thick molasses. Again and again, the wicked creatures would harry me, stabbing and slashing with their evil shining blades. My frustration was building up to a berserker rage until Kidu shook me awake, freeing me from my nightmare.

Groggily, I took over the watch, looking over at Elwin’s sleeping form. I was physically refreshed but mentally exhausted, thanks to my recent dream. Anger, more than fear, was my primary emotion, and a small part of me hoped to encounter those elves again, to rend yielding flesh from their delicate bones. However, in the deeper parts of my soul, I knew that this was just an idle fantasy. If we met them again in our current state we would not be nearly as lucky. It was a humbling and abject lesson in the difference of power. Staring out across the sea of grass, I whispered to myself, “One day…” and began my watch. A cool night breeze made the shimmering blades sway softly under an argent moon in agreement to my vow.

*

During the long hours of watch, I had busied myself by cycling Entropic Aura on and off during to prove that I and not it was truly in control. So engrossed I was with my magic, that I chose not to wake Elwin for his watch which left me a little more tired than usual. However, as a result of my focused esoteric practice, I had increased the level of my Entropic Aura and, more importantly, was now better able to command its rebellious energies.

The next morning found our party in low spirits. Fear stalked at the back of my mind, as I nervously looked over my shoulder for any signs of pursuit. The previous night’s encounter brought to the fore feelings of impotence, akin to those felt when the collars were around our necks. The sun shone and the birds sang their sweet melodies in the crisp morning air, but none of this could lift the pall of our close brush with the end.

After we had a simple breakfast of lightly-salted traveler’s bread, with not even a single word of thanks from Elwin, I decided to broach the topic of our next move, “Gentlemen, I believe it is time for us to discuss what to do next.”

“Well, we certainly need to get out of this forsaken wilderness. Simple travelers aren’t nearly as friendly as they used to be,” replied Elwin sarcastically, hiding the worry in his voice.

“Just a few more enemies for the tribe,” rumbled the big Hunter threateningly, as he took a swig of water from a canteen.

“I say we stick with our own kind, better the devil you know. Best we make our way into the city and join up with a caravan. Or, get some supplies and gear, and find a group traveling someplace else, once we get the lay of the land. Don’t know about you lads, but I could do with a roof over my head for a little bit. A quick drink would not go amiss either,” Elwin suggested strongly.

“Better to be free in the forest than in chains in the city…” grumbled the big man.

“Very well, you both make good points. However, if we are to go with Elwin’s plan, how are we to make good our entry into the city of Ansan? Our wealth is not without limits, and as Elwin wisely pointed out, it would be best for us to find friendlier climes as soon as…” I began to say, before being interrupted by Elwin.

“Leave that to me. City guards are always known for the grift, and we have a little coinage, more than enough to secure entry for three foreigners. Besides, people from all over come to Ansan, the jewel of the grass sea and gate to the wilds of the Grieving Lands! What I would do to for a real bed!” he interjected a little too enthusiastically, really trying to sell us on the idea of civilization.

I made a point of pretending to truly consider this, before finally siding with the Rogue. I would have to pray that my face would just be one among many. My notoriety from the arena was surely faded now from word of my supposed ‘death’ in the mines. Still, I felt a little apprehensive to be going back to the city that had enslaved me. The irony was not lost on me that it was safer to be in the city in which I had been subjugated, rather than in the wilderness where I could fall prey to dark beasts and proficient, chilling enemies. At least I would be among my own species.

“We enter Ansan and find a place to stay. Sell what we can for coin, then find transport out,” I spoke slowly in the best authoritative voice I could muster.

“All well and good, talking about getting in the city. That’s the easy part. I would like to take a moment to just discuss what in the blue hell happened yesterday? For a moment I was in the shallow river, about to cross to the other side. Don’t know about the big man here, but I was knee-deep in its dark water. What, or who, were those people or things last night? And what did you do to us, that could pull us from the grasp of the Dark Lady? By the gods, we almost died! What exactly are you and what are those powers that let you do this!?” asked an exasperated Elwin, looking pointedly at me as he took a deep breath, “Let’s start with something simple first, Gil here seems to have understood a little of what they were saying. Saw it, I did. Why did they attack us?”

Debating on telling them the whole truth, I carefully began to answer his line of inquiry, “They were elves, Wood Elves to be precise, and they...”

Again, I was interrupted by Elwin, “Legendary, even among their own sort, the royal line of the First People of Forest? The Warders of the Woods? They walk the lands of men again? Hah, you would make a fine bard for the Royal Court if you could get me to believe that...” added the Rogue in a sharp tone which drew a snarl from the Hunter.

“Enough, little man. Gilgamesh of the Uruks speaks the truth. Who else could have moved as they did? I am perhaps one of the greatest Hunters of the Three Bears that has ever lived to walk on the ice, yet even I didn’t sense a whisper before they were upon us. The old stories tell of sharp-eared people, great even among their own kind that can walk as they do. If Gilgamesh says they are of the First People, then that makes for a good enough explanation for me,” concluded the man-mountain with the finality of an avalanche.

“But why did...” went on the Rogue.

“Because they could,” I said tersely, cutting him off. “Because they’re not human like us, their goals are alien and unknowable. But, ultimately I believe it was because they had the power to do so. Let’s be grateful that they were in a hurry and didn’t finish the job,” I said, looking at them both pointedly in the eye. “It is best that we focus on our current predicament. The whys and wherefores matter not in our quest for a bed for the night, and a roof over our heads,” I said the last to humor Elwin, glad that I had diverted the topic from my own magic. I could almost feel invisible dice rolling to see if I had passed a check of some sort.

The pair nodded, with Elwin slightly narrowing his eyes, before they started to gather up our things. While they were busy, I took a moment to confirm that it was only us in the immediate vicinity, as the light of the spell was somewhat of a spectacle that could draw unwanted attention. Seeing that the coast was clear, I silently cast Greater Heal on myself, eager to rid myself of the slave marks on my arm. The divine energies wound about my form and erased the mark of my hated brand. The remaining light played about my companions, drawing a few gasps of surprise before softly disappearing. When the pair finished with our preparations, we headed in the direction of the city with renewed vigor in our stride, the vestiges of my released magic making me light on my feet. Necessity had forced our hand, but I would make the most of the hand that I was dealt.

About an hour away from the gates of the city, a heavily armed mounted patrol of Children passed our group. Their backs were straight as they clasped menacing-looking lances, their dark eyes looking to the horizon, as if searching for something. We kept our eyes low. Even Kidu knew better than to cause trouble, and we continued our way toward the city. Mercifully, they left us alone. My group must have looked like just a small band of innocent travelers, or perhaps farmers, looking for a better life in the city. The hawks were searching for other prey.

We joined a long line of farmers, merchants, and general travelers all waiting to enter Ansan, the jewel of the grass sea. The line moved with a plodding slowness that ate up the minutes and the hours, a testament to the efficiency of those manning the gates.

A small black-haired girl, in the awkward stage between girl and woman, was carried like an imperial icon on a palanquin by slaves, from inside the city to the gate. She began to speak to the guards in an imperious tone in the local language of the Tides. I could not hear the conversation directly, but I saw her doll-like features crease in annoyance as one of the guards at the gate knelt before her palanquin and presented her with an intricately knotted silk string. Fuming in anger, she ordered her slaves to carry her quickly back off into the city.

Unable to stem my curiosity, and ignoring Elwin’s warning glare, I asked an old farmer wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat to explain what had just unfolded before me. The old man turned to give me a look over, no doubt questioning the discrepancy between my local clothes and my quite obvious ethnicity. One glance at Kidu, however, made him visibly gulp in fear and answer my question.

“That be an Honoured One, young man, those of the city who are strong in the Gift,” he answered, removing the straw hat from his head and clasping it to his chest. “Best not to draw the attention of the high folk, only trouble for those of our station,” he said, eyes downcast.

I wanted to ask more, but Elwin was shaking his head, so I stilled my questioning tongue and the old man turned, now ignoring us.

“You don’t want to be asking too many questions, looking like that. In fact, its best you don’t ask any questions at all. Don’t want to draw any more attention to us,” the Rogue said in a quiet voice, pointing to my clothes and the dull stains around my neck, “If you got any questions, let's ask them once we’re safely inside.”

Taking his advice, I kept quiet until it was finally our turn. As I prepared to enter the city where the yoke of slavery had been forced upon me, my thoughts became filled with trepidation. Would anyone recognize me? Or was I already considered dead, yet another victim of the system that fueled this city’s wealth?

Suddenly, Elwin walked with a confident swagger to one of the bored-looking guards at the gate. His target was clad in an ill-fitting suit of piecemeal armor and armed with a crudely fashioned mace that showed signs of neglect. A terse exchange ensued between the two men, causing the guard's features to come alive with a spark of interest. Then, with a furtive glance cast in our direction, the Rogue surreptitiously passed a few coins into the guardsman's open palm.

Moving up the gate, for a moment I thought our plan had failed, or that Elwin had sold us out and we would have to fight our way free. I was soon disproved of this notion when the bored-looking guard offered, “You lot stink too much of the road. My cousin Taper runs an inn with a good bathhouse, just down this way, the Twisted Boar. Tell him Dagesh sent you,” he said with a quick wink, obviously pleased by his take this afternoon.

We passed the gates of the solid wood palisade, and I had to fight a sense of foreboding as my eyes caught the sight of the great monolithic Ark at the center of the city in the distance; It was the seat of power and governance of the Children of the Tides. My nerves played merry hell with my heart and I was worried that I would be recognized by one of my former enslavers. The stench of the pressed humanity hit me and my eyes furtively scanned everywhere, searching with dread for any familiar faces. To me, the local people all seemed to resemble my initial captors near the shrine of Avaria with their shifty slanted Asian eyes that promised deceit or violence. Still, luck or divine provenance was on our side and our party drew no real notice.

Picking up our pace, we walked along the hard earthen packed street. It was the main eastern thoroughfare of Ansan and it felt odd walking here for the first time as a free man. I rationalized my good fortune with the fact that, in this barbaric and backward society, being a slave had made me all but invisible. To them, I must have been just one face in thousands, quickly forgotten. I had weighed the risks of returning to the city against the life of a brigand in the wilds. I convinced myself that this choice, though undoubtedly risky, allowed for potentially greater gain. Also, the lure of civilization was too great to ignore.

The mistake I had made was that of a modern civilized man. I thought, in my error, that I was the center of the world and that its events and people revolved around me, the protagonist. However, nothing could be further from the truth. Even here in this brand-new world, I existed in a place of astonishing indifference to almost everything I was. Everything that I thought. Everything that I did.

Unbeknownst to me, a more sinister impulse had guided me back to the city. One aspect of it was a recklessness born of youth, a rebellious fire that eagerly courted danger. Yet the other facet was far more ominous, a pledge of vengeance made in what seemed so long ago, now grown cold and festering in the recesses of my mind with the passage of time. A means to etch my existence upon a cruel and callous world.