Ruins of Darkness and Dragons Read online

  Aldred was a brave man. It was a title he wore with pride. But he was not a stupid man. At least, he wasn’t stupid man when it came to these things.

  He had made many stupid mistakes. Mistakes that could have, and should have, cost him his life on multiple occasions. But this was different. The air felt thick and humid, even when there was no water, except the little stream, for as far as the eye could see, and far beyond that. The air was supposed to be dry, but no. It was pressing, throbbing, radiating heat and unease.

  If there was a force that Aldred could not see, he was not going to be the one to ruffle those invisible feathers. You couldn’t fight something that you couldn’t see. And in those ruins, well … He had a feeling that there was a whole other world that didn’t make itself apparent to the human eye. The only thing worse than seeing a spider in a room was knowing there was a spider and not seeing it.

  “If you keep looking over your shoulder like that, Aldred of Tamworth, you are going to break your neck before anyone else gets the chance to.”

  Aldred glared at Hashkeh. “There was a beast that attacked me out of nowhere this morning. Excuse me if I am being a little paranoid about things I cannot see or hear.” Aldred’s comment was in no way meant to make the tiger feel bad. It was banter. That’s all it was. But the tiger winced a little. Still, he pulled his face back to the natural discontented look he wore the entire day.

  “You should be glad that I didn’t rip your throat out when I jumped you.”

  Aldred laughed. “You would have made a lot of enemies by doing that. I have a whole list of people who’d hunt you if you killed me before they could.”

  Aldred tried to think back to all of the noblemen he had robbed and the wives he had seduced. He thought about every card game he had cheated at and the coins he stole from the players playing against him. Was it his fault that they were gullible? Was it his fault that they had the brain cells of an ape? No. It was his fault for taking advantage of that. He could admit as much to himself. But he would never admit it to someone else. No, that would damage the façade that he had worked years on. The mask of arrogance that people believed in every way. That arrogance had brought him many places and gotten him where he was today. Sure, he sometimes wondered if where he was today was really worth the act. The act had become such an integral part of him that he could hardly tell the act from his natural suave.

  “As if it’s my fault that their coin purses were open, or their wives were unhappy.”

  “You took men’s wives?” The Tash lifted an eyebrow and his lip curled in what could have been disgust.

  “I didn’t know they were married!” Aldred said defensively. “Most of the time.”

  “Most of the time?”

  “They deserved it.” Aldred crossed his arms like a stubborn child and frowned. They did indeed deserve it. They were horrible people with horrible, horrible tendencies to steal from the people who hardly had anything worth stealing. The tax collectors, the law enforcement that enforced nothing, and even the nobles who treated their staff like shit. Those were the ones that Aldred enjoyed ruining the most.

  He had once been a servant to a cruel nobleman. His mother was a cook and his father was in the guard. The nobleman was basically a prince and, well, he acted like it. When Aldred was old enough, he became the blacksmith’s apprentice. One would think that the blacksmith’s wrath would be the kind of thing he should have feared. But no. The blacksmith was a kind old man, with a heart as soft as heated iron.

  The nobleman knew this and took great pleasure in using it against him. The day Aldred stood up to him was the day that he painted a big, red, bullseye on his back. Ever since then, he was the butt of every joke and on the receiving end of every practical and cruel joke.

  “Where I am from, taking a man’s woman from her man calls for a duel to the death.”

  “Your women must be something extraordinary,” Aldred commented.

  The tiger looked at him and Aldred could faintly see a look of disgust, and perhaps sadness, in the tiger’s eyes. “We mate for life,” was all he said.

  Aldred sensed a shift in the mood. It was nearly as thick as the unpleasant humidity that radiated from the ruins. Hashkeh, the poor, hairy bastard, must have been scorned at one point or another. Either that or he just hated the idea of mating for life. Aldred tried to think about what that must be like, but was instantly overtaken by an intense panic as the image of children and a household invaded his thoughts. No, that was not the life for him. He could hardly take care of himself, never mind a family.

  In an attempt to lighten the mood, if only slightly, Aldred decided that it was time to crack a joke.

  “Do you exchange rocks like a penguin as well?” Realization dawned on Aldred. “People also exchange rocks. Son of a bitch.”

  The tiger did nothing but shrug. “Our proclamation of love is far greater than a rock on a finger or a pretty dress.”

  The sentiment sounded heavy, as if it carried too much weight. At least, it was too much weight for Aldred. No, that was not for him. Not in the slightest. The bachelor life was his and that was how he would die one day. Without a woman or a family to care for. He’d learned from his parents. A naughty child was not worth the pain and suffering they went through in order to put food on the table.

  “I suppose humans were like that once too. Then we got blinded by wealth and cheap thrills.” Aldred took a swig of his ale, the last remnants of the bottle he had brought with him on the journey. “Consumed by alcohol.”

  The tiger laughed.

  “It did not consume you. Your kind is weak. You’re vulnerable to temptations.”

  “Alright, alright,” Aldred said, holding his hands up in defeat. “You don’t have to go on about it. I get it. You think we are lesser beings.”

  Hashkeh laughed again. “No, Aldred of Tamworth. I do not think you are lesser beings. I think you are far superior than any other living creature. You have built worlds. But you are stupid. You fight your brothers instead of alongside them. Your kind does not disgust me because you are lesser. You disgust me because you are great, but you do nothing to enhance your greatness. You are a selfish people and a greedy one at that.”

  Aldred felt strangely struck. That was odd. Aldred didn’t care what anyone thought. Aldred only cared about what Aldred thought. But no. This was personal. It was personal because it was so heart-wrenchingly true. To his horror, Hashkeh didn’t stop with his last insult. Instead, as if Aldred’s silence has given him permission to go on, he continued.

  “The High Regime, the bastards that they are, oppress you every day of your life, but you do not care. You are sheep. You are afraid of what will come if you disobey. The Regime is nothing more than four very wealthy men who bought the loyalty of the human race. That’s the thing with humans. You put a price on everything. The problem with having a cost is that there is always someone willing to pay it. There is always someone willing to buy what’s on sale.”

  “You sound very sure of yourself. How certain are you that these facts are indeed facts? It seems odd that an outcast, someone who’s been living with his clan in the woods for the past hundreds of years would know so much about us. If our loyalty is bought, how are you so knowledgeable about what goes on in our world?”

  The tiger leaned forward and the shift in his fur caught the light from the moon. The tips turned almost white and the effect made him glow, in a way. It made him seem ethereal. Otherworldly, even. “There’s always someone willing to give up information. Even if they do have a fear of the High Regime. If the price is right, they’d sell their own souls.”

  “So you’re bribing humans and exploiting the very thing that makes them so disgusting? If you ask me, that brings you down to our level.”

  Hashkeh shrugged, his golden eyes dancing with mischief. “Wouldn’t missing the opportunity to take advantage of a fool mean that we’d be fools also?”

  “We have laws, you know,” Aldred said, now grasping at straws. “We’re not uncivilized.”

  “So did the Dragons, and look what happened to them. Their laws bit them in the ass and they got burnt. Just because you have laws does not make you any less of a savage. It’s the laws that you choose to follow that make you who you are.”

  “You choose to kill a man that took your woman.”

  “And so, our men do not take other men’s women. It is effective.”

  “What if the woman loves another more?”

  Hashkeh chuckled. It seemed to vibrate through his cheek. “We do not take mates lightly, human. We know when we are meant to be, and that is when we join our lives and become one. There is no other way. If anyone tries to disturb the peace, they die.”

  “Sounds a lot like the High Regime to me.”

  “Our leaders are chosen, not forced on us. Our people are free to leave and do as they please, but if they want to be part of our clan, they must follow the laws. We do not conquer. We do not seek wealth or territory. We do not take the food from our brother’s mouth and put it in our own. That is more than could be said of your kind. Our laws may be cruel, and they may be harsh, but we have order, and we want to follow those laws. Tell me, human. Do you want to pay double taxes every sixth moon? Do you want to do the bidding of four cowards that have never even shown their faces? You do not. And that is the difference. We like the peace and we keep it. You want the peace, but you are too scared and bought to do anything about it. It’s a pity, really. If only you could grow some balls.”

  It was Aldred’s turn to shrug. He knew that the Tash was right. Of course he was. Aldred had detested his own kind since he was a child.

  But h
e still felt strangely protective of them.

  He wanted to defend them, but could he defend something so cruel and materialistic?

  No, he knew what and who he was. He knew that his kind was far from perfect. He couldn’t justify their actions.

  “We’re not all bad,” Aldred found himself saying before he could stop himself.

  “Perhaps.” The Tash shrugged. “Do send them my way when they cross your path one day. I’d love to meet one of these unique beings.”

  Aldred, despite the comment hitting hard, smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell them that you like your fur stroked.”

  CHAPTER 5

  DREAMS

  Spirits, they were everywhere.

  They invaded the space around Hashkeh, taking over every sense, every thought, every movement. It was as though the spirits knew what he was going to think before he thought it, and then scrambled that very thought before the tiger could make sense of it. It was as if he was drowning in a sea of tormented souls. The air was thick with floating bodies, milky white and a little transparent.

  Hashkeh dug a nail into his fur on one of his arms, pushing hard enough to break skin. But he felt … He felt nothing. It was a dream.

  The Tash believed that all dreams had a meaning. One did not conjure the thoughts out of thin air like the humans believed. Every dream had something that it wanted to say, and every dream had a different way of saying it. It was a matter of unraveling the complexity of the dream and analyzing the fragments that were left. Humans, the poor creatures, didn’t know how to do this. And the few who did, well, they were called witches or seers. Knowing what dreams meant did not make a person special. It was a basic skill with the Tash.

  Hashkeh looked around him, breathing in the spirits, the thick air, the haunted cries that grew out of a deathly stillness. The cries were low at first, but then they started to grow. The sound grew until it was deafening. Until there was nothing but the cries, and spirits, and haunted visions of a past that was not his.

  He had to constantly remind himself of that. He had to constantly strain to get at least one coherent thought pieced together.

  “This is not my past. These visions are not my own. I am sane. This is not my past. These visions are not my own. I am sane. This is not my past. These visions are not my own. I am sane. This is not my past. These visions are not my own. I am sane. This is not my past. These visions are not my own. I am sane. This is not my past. These visions are not my own. I am sane. This is not my past. These visions are not my own. I am sane.”

  The spirits spoke in tongues that have long since been forgotten on this earth. Even the Tash had no knowledge of these ancient languages. They were too old and too rich, even for a folk that was dead-set on preserving the rich history of its people. It was too complicated for even them to decipher. Hashkeh felt like an intruder just listening to the spirits. He felt as though he was somewhere that he did not belong. In a sense, that was true. He did not belong among the spirits. Not unless the human had decided to slit the Tash’s throat in his sleep.

  But no, Hashkeh did not think that the human was the sort. He did not strike him as such. Yes, he was a human and a filthy one at that, but he seemed different. At least a little bit. The Tash could tell. No one knew how, but they could feel it in their whiskers and nails. Their claws itched when something was off, when someone was trying to hurt them. Hashkeh hadn’t had that feeling once with the human. Not even when he had reached out to touch Hashkeh’s fur. Sure, he was a little defensive, but that was only his kind being his kind.

  So no, he did not think that the human had killed him. Not yet, at least. Which meant that he still did not belong here.

  Hashkeh’s grandfather used to tell him that dreams were the windows to the afterlife. They were the very things that connected the mortal realm to the dead one. Dreams were how the dead communicated with the living. If they did not listen to the dead when they were conscious, the dead would invade when they were not. Many people called them nightmares. The Tash called them visions.

  “Why am I here, spirits?” Hashkeh asked, the sky above him bleeding together like ink in water. A pitch-black sky met milky white figures and everything turned a murky grey. A grey so cold that the Tash would have shivered were he not covered in fur.

  The spirits did not answer him. Instead they merely floated by him, flicking his ear and breathing on his neck. He wanted to yell at them, to tell them to go back to the hell where they came from. But that was not possible. Because Hashkeh was in their world, not his own. He could not tell them to leave. He could not banish them. The only way he would wake up, was if he got woken up. No matter how hard he tried, he could not force his eyes open. He could not dig his nails into his arm hard enough for his nails to pierce skin. One could not get hurt in dreams. That was one good thing, he supposed. They could torment him mentally, but physically he could not be harmed. He didn’t know if the mental harm would be better or worse than the physical sort of harm.

  Somehow he doubted it and his optimism faded. He was caught off guard in the dream and that was not something that the Tash experienced frequently. The Tash knew that they had to protect their dreams from intruders.

  How did they penetrate his wards?

  How did they manage to break through his walls?

  Thoughts began to surface that Hashkeh had been unable to piece together before. The spirits did not have that strong a hold on him just yet, at least. He could still break … If he tried hard enough.

  “Answer me,” he said again, a little louder this time.

  There was a moment of silence, a moment when Hashkeh’s own thoughts were too loud for him to deal with. His own thoughts were so loud that it gave him a headache. It started as a throb in the back of his head and moved forward toward his temples. Resting there in its new home. Damn it, he was going to wake up with that headache still clinging to him like burrs stuck to his fur. It was going to take a lot of effort and nursing to get rid of it.

  Then the silence broke with a deep voice.

  The voice held authority, even in the land of the dead where authority was nonexistent. No one had anything to fear, after all. They were dead anyway. But this voice, this voice came from somewhere where there were fates worse than death. Fates that made Hashkeh’s fur stand on end.

  “You are here because we called you here,” the voice said.

  The tiger tried to look around. He tried to find where this voice was coming from. But there was nothing but grey around him. It faded into black at the tips, though. At first he thought it was the black of the sky above, but on closer inspection, he found that it was no sky at all. It was something else.

  It was someone else.

  Perhaps someone who was speaking to him.

  A spirit that was too large to inhabit this world and had to make its home in the universe surrounding it. It was the universe. It was the beginning and the end of the land of the dead.

  “And why is that?” Hashkeh asked, sensing a little fear in his voice. He had never sensed that. Not since he was a cub. Not since he had climbed a tree that his mother told him not to climb. He fell down that tree, chipping a tooth. He could still feel it when he ran his tongue over his teeth. He could still feel the rough edges of the gap left by the missing piece of tooth. That was the one and only time that he was truly afraid. Up until now.

  “Because we need to talk about these ruins.”

  “They are only ruins, aren’t they? What secrets do they hold that are so important that a spirit such as yourself has called on me?”

  “The ruins hold a great evil, Tash. It holds an evil far greater than you. Far greater than even I. It must not be released.”

  “What do we do about the spirit, then? I assume it’s a spirit? Do we leave it in peace? I doubt the humans would ever accept that.”

  “Not a spirit,” the voice said softly. “An army of them. An army of spirits that are hungry for vengeance.”

  “Vengeance on whom?”

  “Anyone.”

  Spirits are supposed to be neutral,” Hashkeh said with a frown. “In the world of the living they do not pick sides. They do not have a presence.”