Roads of the Righteous and the Rotten (Order of Fire Book 1) (23 page)

Zar imagined the map would lead him to a grand cave under cliffs or behind a waterfall, or something equally epic. With the anticipation of finding Bruudor’s treasure which was so strong it caused his hand to tremble, it calmed him to think that it was all a jest as he entered the area marked on the map. He chuckled at the site of the small grove of chur trees and maples, and mumbled to Asha, “If it seems too right to be real, it probably is.”

The camel ignored him and sniffed around. She scurried a bit and grunted, then stopped in her tracks, looking down at the earth in front of her, and refused to walk over it. Zar hopped down and examined the dirt. “The ground was dug up here.”

He put his foot over the spot and slowly shifted his weight upon it. The ground gave way, and dirt went sliding into the hole. “Asha! I think this is it!” Zar announced.

As dirt continued to slide into the cavity an excited Zar jumped in and followed after. The rushing dirt brought him down into a round pit with soft dirt walls mottled with grass.

Zar coughed and covered his face as the dirt settled. “It isn’t a cave, Asha,” he said. “Someone dug this hole.
Bruudor
dug this hole.”

The dust faded, and Zar’s eyes scampered about for treasure. He wondered why the surface he stood on seemed hard as rock and not soft like the dirt walls that surrounded him. He picked up a boot, and the shimmer of gold caught his glance. He looked about his feet, kicking away clumps of dirt to see what exactly he was standing on.

Shining gold was all he could see, gold and a rainbow of gemstones brightened by the light of the sun which crept into the pit. Zar gasped.

The floor of the hole was a heap of golden pieces, diamonds, gemstones, and rare trinkets from the corners of the world. As Zar dug through it, he grasped a silver statue of Vyere in one hand, and in the other, a golden idol of a figure he did not recognize—a god or hero of a distant land, he assumed. Digging more through the wealth, Zar tugged at a mass of solid gold extending out from the treasure. He scraped away pieces of gold and jewels and uncovered a rather large, solid gold statue of Leviathan.

“Look, Asha,” he called. “A golden Leviathan.”

Zar gazed in wonder. While the statue didn’t at all capture the fearsomeness of the creature he had observed first hand, it was well-crafted and shiny enough to make him gape in awe nonetheless.

“Too much treasure to carry,” said Zar, digging about the jewels around his feet. “Do we leave it here and come back when we have need of it? We have the only map—no one will find it,” Zar insisted, sounding as if he were attempting to convince himself more than Asha. “Aye, we’ll bury it back—after I fill my purse and your bag with as much as we can carry. We’ll have to think of a good way to get this back to the coast.”

So Zar stuffed as many gold pieces and gemstones into his coin purse and Asha’s saddlebag as would fit without causing notice, and buried the hidden cache most diligently, leaving the place as common as it had looked before.

Setting back out, Zar concluded they should visit the capital to see the petrified yew trees of the Lost City he had heard so much about, but never imagined he’d have occasion to witness. Since they had traveled quite a ways north and were no more than a few days journey to the capital— according to fellow travelers—to see the Twisted Pillars of Yew up close was an absolute necessity. And when Asha brought them close enough to see their shapes afar off, Zar knew he had made the right decision. Even in the distance they looked foreign and strange with great branches like arms bending about, grabbing eerily at the surrounding air.

He had heard of the Twisted Pillars his entire life, heard the myth of the great yew trees that lived for thousands of years that old King Xarus of Xuul had planted to encompass his city. He had heard the tale of the great flood that had drowned the valley city and buried it in rock and debris—the city that was eventually dug up and reclaimed— the Lost City as it was now called. The king’s favored yew’s which had been buried in dirt and sediment were preserved and petrified in the hundreds of years that the city was lost. As the generations after began to dig out their city down to the very ground that Xarus walked, the trees, although slanted and warped, were found solid as a cliff and still standing. It was an eternal momento of the city, for even if there was a soul that wished it the trees could not be moved. Moreover, their time in the earth had turned them to stone and they could not be burned.

The closer Zar came to the lost city, the more the whole journey seemed like a dream. For there he was, fast approaching the Twisted Pillars of Yew, structures only spoken of in myth and legend. Yet there they were, hanging over the valley, tall and rigid, and curiously gnarled. They gated the perimeter of the Lost City, and as Zar passed through them he stopped before one, admiring its strangeness and beauty.

The pillar was a tree of stone, but its coloring was not gray like stone, but the various brown hues of wood. It glistened, its outer layer seeming almost transparent, reflecting the color of the wood beneath. Zar knocked on its surface and his knuckles felt like they had struck marble. Zar marveled, and he and Asha meandered around a while to take it all in.

After examining a few more of the pillars, Zar rode anxiously towards the Lost City. While the pillars of yew were surely a wonder, the city seemed simple enough, and the commotion Zar noticed made him feel right at home. It was probably a fight, like the brawls on the streets of Gara, the killings in Lindoth, or the revolts in Snowstone that Tiomot sent soldiers to quell. As he came into the city, passing two sentries sitting calmly atop yew trees with bows in hand, he headed over to the town square where a crowd was gathered. As he approached the mob, his eyes peeled for a fight, he saw instead the people attending five fancy- looking individuals who stood before a wagon.

They looked like royals, and to his confirmation Zar heard the shouts of “king” and “prince” echo from the crowd. Zar was quite puzzled for a moment. There were no soldiers present to contain the people, for the people did not need to be contained. They raised their voices in praise and tribute as the group of royals handed them large sacks from the wagon.

Zar watched as a young royal—a man he figured to be the prince—handed a sack to the crowd which was taken by a man nearest him, but passed all the way around to a woman and a young lad who stood near the center of the crowd. The woman eagerly shoved her hand into the cloth bag and pulled out a corner of bread that she handed quickly to the boy.

Zar stood as still as if time had stopped, feeling the shoulders of others brush past him. He didn’t know how long he had stood there idle, attempting to make sense of the foreign situation, but before long a sack of food was passed over to him and his shoulder was tapped.

“For you, sir,” a kind voice spoke.

Zar looked beside him to find a man with a gray beard handing him a sack. A lump filled his throat. “No, uh, I have no need.” He pulled Asha away from the crowd, but only walked a few paces away before he looked back, as if not believing the whole thing, and stood there watching from a distance.

His throat squeezed tighter as the curious royals fed their people. Emotion overtook him, and a tiny bead of liquid snuck out from his right eye and rolled down his cheek.

The young noble handed another sack into the crowd, and after an eager townsman pulled it from his hands, he looked up and caught Zar’s gaze.

Zar mounted Asha and left.

23

“I wasn’t
crying,” Zar snapped
. “Aye, my eyes watered a bit, Asha, but I wasn’t crying. Why? What do you mean, why? Have you ever seen a thing like that in your life? Aye, I know you haven’t, and neither have I. I have no problem admitting I felt strongly back there, but I wasn’t crying.”

Asha grunted as she swung her head back nervously. “What’s that,” said Zar, hearing the sound of another rider behind him “Are we being followed?”

Zar brought Asha to a halt, turned in his saddle and grabbed for the hilt of his sword. The rider approached, his mount cantering leisurely toward them. It was the young noble from the square.

The man slowed his mount to a halt, waved his hand and showed a gentle smile. His face was dark and clean- shaven, his black hair straight and long. The man called out, “You shed a tear in the market, if you’re hungry—”

“I’m no beggar,” Zar announced.

“Neither are they,” the man replied, pointing toward the square. “They’re just poor and hungry—but you aren’t either, are you?” The man scanned Zar’s raiment, his mount, and his weapons. “And you’re not from here.”

“I’ve come from across the sea—from Krii,” said Zar. “Krii,” the man almost shouted, showing a smile of wonder. “Truly?”

“Aye.”

“Is it not the season of the dragon?”

“It is,” Zar answered.

“How did you avoid Leviathan?”

“We didn’t,” said Zar, shaking his head. “We fought it.

It killed two of ours.”

“The One God was with you, then. Forgive me for I have not yet introduced myself. Do not mistake my lack of politeness for the general manners of the people of Serradiia, I pray. It’s not oft I meet people from Krii. My name is Alyn. And you, sir?”

“Is it not
Prince
Alyn,” Zar questioned, “or
Lo
rd
Alyn?”

“Aye, I am son of Aron, our king here,” the man replied.

“I am Zar.”

“Zar,” the man repeated, as if attempting to commit the name to memory. “I would like to invite you to dine with me and my family at the palace tonight. I would be very happy if you joined us—if you don’t have other affairs. My house would love to meet you, I’m sure, and to hear about the land across the sea. I will tell my guards to let you through. Give them your name at the gates, Zar. I’ll be expecting you.”

The prince smiled before riding off, and Zar watched the man in scrutiny as his royal mount carried him away.

“What do you make of it, Asha? What kind of game is this man playing—the most humble prince I’ve ever met, I dare say.
My name is Alyn,”
Zar mocked. “What prince doesn’t say he’s a prince when introducing himself? What do you think, Asha? I know, it’s strange. What’s stranger still is that you don’t sense any ill intent from the man, and neither do I.
I’ve
been wrong once or twice, but
you’ve
always been an excellent judge of character, and this man hasn’t offended you at all. No grunts, no spit, not even a stir. Very well, a royal dinner does sound good, but if you’re wrong and they string me up, I’ll haunt you ‘til the end of your days.”

°

The dining hall was majestic, as was the entire palace as far as Zar could see—it seemed not only overly large but unique. Even from the outside it looked nothing like Snowstone Castle which was straight and very tall. The Palace of Xuul had a wider breadth, and though not as tall as Snowstone, its architecture made it appear older than time. It looked as if the palace itself had been preserved in the earth for hundreds of years with the yew trees, but according to Prince Alyn, Zar’s new palace guide, the palace had been rebuilt after the Lost City was excavated.

The most notable difference between the Palace of Xuul and the castles Zar had seen in Krii was that the Palace of Xuul was built with less levels so that it wasn’t as high, but rather spread out and very large, with grand rooms that were adjacent to one another rather than stacked one on top of the other. There were also the cylindrical roofs of the rooms, rounded and tapered to a point which rose up into the air like a vast mountain range with several rounded peaks reaching into the sky. The castles in Krii were fortresses, narrow and very tall, with rooms stacking on top of each other while the Lost Palace was closer to the ground, and spacious with a much wider base. Although he had heard about this style of dwelling in the west, he had never actually seen one, and he enjoyed deciphering the differences between them and the military castles of Krii which Tiomot and Dandil dwelled in.

“Don’t let your eyes tarry on my sisters,” whispered Prince Alyn, leaning towards Zar and showing a grin.

“Well, of course not—”

“A joke,” the prince said, chuckling. “Please feel at home.”

While both princesses were beautiful—Rhea, the eldest, a lovely looking woman appearing to be around Zar’s age, and Bree, the younger doe-eyed sister—Zar had made it a point to not let his eyes linger on them too long. Having this recently on his mind, the prince’s comment made him jump just a bit, so Zar chuckled at the coincidence and let the prince think his joke was the cause.

The prince had chosen to sit on the same side of the table next to Zar, and next to him were Lord Landor and Lady Jessa and Lord Timmon, his two uncles and aunt by marriage. Across from them were King Aron in the center, Queen Kora beside him, and Princess Rhea on one side— across from Zar—and Princess Bree on the other side of them.

When Zar first laid eyes on Queen Kora he thought she was the most regal woman he had ever seen. Her braided brown hair, the tiara that encompassed it, the way she held her head, her smile and charm, it was all like an image from a story book of old. She was a queen worthy of legend—and yet another element of the spell of the Lost City. Zar had to wonder if this spell was making everything seem more marvelous than it really was. Here he was a well traveled man in a place that few from his land had ever seen with their own eyes. He had seen a place mentioned to him in myths, a place that most Kriian boys heard about on their grandfather’s knee and knew they would never see for themselves. Adding to the inconceivability of it all, the first royals he had met seemed just and kind-hearted. So during most of dinner he sat looking stunned, smiling at everyone that spoke to him while not offering much in return but short and simple replies.

King Aron was a gracious host and saw that Zar’s cup never lacked wine, so that about midway through the dinner Zar was loose enough to wake from his dreamy state and engage in hearty conversation about the one topic they all wished to discuss—Krii.

The king seemed to be an amiable man who loved the company of others, and who only looked stern when he wasn’t smiling, which didn’t seem to be very often. His crown was exquisite—polished gold made to resemble the twisted branches of the yew trees wrapping around his head. One look at it almost sent Zar back into his state of wide-eyed wonder, but he quickly looked away and focused on the conversation at hand.

“Krii is Krii,” said Zar, “nothing like this.”

Princess Bree looked a bit disappointed, and glanced at her aunt Jessa.

“Because you know it,” said Lady Jessa, “I’m sure any one of us would be just as fascinated by Krii as you are of our Serradiia.”

“You are correct, no doubt,” Zar replied. “I am very much fascinated—your lands, your buildings, your wine.” Zar held up his chalice.

“Do you know this one?” asked Princess Rhea, looking almost as regal as her mother, with wavy brown hair pulled up tight and covered with an ornate tiara.

“I’ve never tasted anything like it,” said Zar. “It’s sweet—but not overly so. And it’s thicker than any red I’ve had.”

The whole table turned to Zar, showing smiles that ranged from pride to amazement—and traces of both mixed between. Lord Landor, Jessa’s husband, and Timmon, his younger brother, both chuckled while looking at one another.

“It’s called Red Nectar,” said Lord Landor. “From red grapes aged with honey.”

“Honey,” Zar echoed, taking another sip of the wine and eyeing the remnants in his cup as if he could decipher the ingredients. He could taste the subtle sweetness lingering on his tongue where the wine had started to taste like a sharp and peppery red, but soon faded out to a soft sweetness that made him want to smack his lips.

“I normally don’t care for the sweet wines,” said the young Lord Timmon, “but the Nectar is different. I love it, and I don’t know a soul who doesn’t.”

“Only two vineyards know the secret to its making,” offered Princess Rhea in a lovely tone, “so there are two variations in our country—one from the beekeepers of Hollow Mountain, the other from the Firecrest Vineyards of the lowlands.”

“And which do we drink now?” Zar asked.

“Hollow Mountain,” Rhea answered. “Look.” The princess grabbed the wine gourd in both hands and slid it across the table towards Zar. She lifted the top from it. “Look inside.”

Zar drew forward to peer inside the container. An object floated in the deep red liquid, its crusty surface filled with holes. Zar peered a bit longer until he finally recognized the object. “A honeycomb,” he declared with a smile.

Princess Rhea dipped her head and smiled in agreement. “It can be eaten when the wine is finished.”

Zar sat silent in thought at the idea of biting into the wine-soaked honeycomb, and several servings later Princess Rhea scooped out the curiosity and placed it on his plate with a gleaming smile. She eyed Zar with delight as he took a bite, and her eyes stayed fixed on him as he chewed and swallowed. Her smiling face waited for him to affirm that he liked it, her expectant eyes telling him she knew he would.

When the meal was over, Zar thanked his guests for having him and muttered something about finding an inn to stay the night in.

“Nonsense,” declared the king with a grin. “You’ll stay here tonight.”

Alyn showed Zar to his chamber, a large and comfortable looking room in the guest quarters of the palace. The two exchanged a few more words, among which Zar asked the prince how to get down to the stables where Asha rested.

“I wish to have a few words with her before I sleep,”

said Zar.

“Just go all the way back down the hall, turn right and head downstairs to the doors. Once you’re outside, you’ll see the stables on the right.”

“And the guards will know who I am?”

“Aye,” assured Alyn with a smile. “No one will stop you.”

Zar stood, eyeing the different stable gates and called out Asha’s name until he heard stirring from behind one of the doors. He opened it to find Asha kneeling calmly on the ground.

“Are you well?” Zar asked. “I came because I must speak with you. Asha, what do you make of this place? Of these people? They appear to be … good. Too good, aye, far too good. That’s how I know there is something wrong. If it feels too right to be real, it probably is. Am I right? Think about it, Asha. Where have we ever been shown such kindness?

“They are letting us sleep here in the palace tonight.

They don’t even know us. Why would they do such a thing? They haven’t assigned guards to follow us around. They haven’t questioned who we are. They haven’t—”

“Judged you,” a woman’s voice called.

Zar’s head whipped in the direction of the voice, and his hand jumped to his sword hilt out of habit. Zar relaxed his arm, and waited as the sound of footsteps just outside the building made their way around to the entrance.

In the seconds before a shape presented itself in the entryway, Zar wondered which member of the royal family had overheard him talk so suspiciously about them, and how they came quietly enough to catch him unawares. He thought the voice sounded familiar, and he didn’t breathe once as feet shuffled outside the building and finally came around to the front.

“We haven’t judged you,” said Princess Rhea, looking intently at Zar before grinning softly. The woman stood leaning on the left entrance wall, her hair now pulled down, wavy and hanging far down her sides. “Should we?”

“No.”

Rhea giggled and leaned against the wall next to Zar.

“What miserable place do you come from that you mistake our simple hospitality for a trick?”

“Krii,” Zar replied with a chuckle. “How much did you hear?”

“Not enough, I’m certain.”

“Too much, I’m certain,” Zar replied.

“You’ve seen much of the worst kind of people,” said Rhea.

“And how do you know that?” Zar questioned.

“Because that’s what causes one to see the worst in people.”

“Is that certainly so?”

Rhea giggled and sat down on the ground next to Asha, running a hand over her golden coat. “You talk to her?”

“Aye,” Zar answered.

“And does she talk back?”

“Of course,” Zar assured, “or else why would I bother?”

The princess laughed.