Through verdant mirrors, p.1
Through Verdant Mirrors, page 1
Through Verdant Mirrors
Ela Bambust
Copyright © 2023 by Ela Bambust
patreon.com/elamimax
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
ISBN 979-8-9873099-2-6
This book was edited by Fiammetta Speziale
This book was professionally typeset by Cassidy Marble: publishing@marble.sh
Dedication
This book is dedicated, first and foremost to my patron,
Without whom this world and everyone in it would not exist.
Further, I want to thank
Megan,
Who loves Clarus more than I do,
My family,
For showing me what family can mean,
Fiammetta,
My little flame,
Veetle and the gang,
For pushing me to publish,
My readers and patrons,
Who got me this far,
And my many friends,
Despite the distractions of which I managed to finish this book on time,
And finally Cassidy,
Who made this a reality,
I love you all
Contents
Ashes of War
Old Magics
Old Ghosts
Cold Stones
Light and Dark
Comes The Hollow
Emerald Cove
The Prince
Keeping Company
Trialogue
Southward Bound
Reunion of Strangers
Strategy And Tactics
Teeth In The Mist
Signs
Roadwork Ahead
Rule of Three
Roadside Manners
Coffee, Eggs
About Time
At The Gates
The Colours of Magic
Dusk and Dust
Fool By Morning
A Turn For The Worse
The Inevitable
Horror Vacui
Congratulations
Acting The Part
One More Goodbye
Feared and Beloved
About the Author
On Verdant Wings
Chapter One
Ashes of War
“Cinero?”
“Hmm?”
“I asked if you were with us.”
“Oh,” Cinero said. “Yeah, sorry.” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. It was getting longer again. “I’ll be right there,” he added, and looked back at Caledon Keep. Once a gorgeous building, it overlooked the valley like a silent guardian, its white walls a bastion to keep the people of the Southern Shelf safe. Now it was a ruin. What exactly had happened eight years ago was a mystery. A mystery, Cinero knew, they were hoping to solve.
“Were you lost in your own head again?” Caerella asked. She looked down at him as he walked up, if only figuratively. “We’ll need you present in the next few hours.”
“Let the boy look,” another figure said, swallowing a mouthful of dry bread. “The Keep’s not what it used to be, but it’s still quite the sight. Besides, this is as good a place as any to take stock. We’ll be in the thick of it before long.”
“Very well, Rubicus,” Caerella said, and shot Cinero a glance he would once have thought to be withering, the woman’s subtle sense of humour going right over his head. “Looks like you get off easy. This time.”
Cinero saluted, pushing down a smirk only most of the way. He saw the corner of Caerella’s mouth go up a bit. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I could start a fire,” the last member of their party added. “If we’re taking a break.”
“Nah, I’d rather not waste daylight,” Rubicus said. “But we can still take a moment to eat. I don’t want to have to fight on an empty stomach.” He chuckled. Rubicus was tall, a mountain of a man who had been in his prime some time ago and had done his best to stay there a bit longer, but his temples had greyed and the grooves around his eyes betrayed a harder life than his easy-going smile would suggest.
“You think there’s going to be fighting?” Cinero asked.
“Could be, Stoneface. Could be.” Flaveo knelt down on the rock next to him, resting his arms on his knees. “The place has been abandoned for nigh on a decade, anything could be in there.”
“Wouldn’t the gates have kept the wild animals out?” Cinero looked at the castle again. He’d been out with the group a few times, but this was definitely the most high profile assignment they’d ever taken. That they weren’t expected to succeed wasn’t exactly doing much to alleviate his anxiety. Well, the anxiety on top of his base-level anxiety.
“Nah,” Rubicus said, still chewing. “Gate’s gone.”
“How can you tell from here?”
Rubicus pointed. Down. At the base of the mountain. “I can see the gatehouse down there.” Cinero could see it, only barely. Something had shattered a part of the Keep, and thrown it down the mountainside.
“What happened here? Thank you.” Cinero accepted the piece of jerky Flaveo handed him, and he chewed it gingerly.
“The Empire attacked,” Caerella said matter-of-factly. Rubicus shot her a glance, and she smirked.
“I think the boy knows that much,” the larger man said. “The thing is that we only know bits and pieces. After Caligon was slain, the last of the Imperial forces made a desperate push to get into the Southern Shelf and kill King Lucius. They hit the Keep, but the Prince stopped them. Something happened up there,” Rubicus said, pointing at the tower, “and it killed the Cavean and his demons, but Prince Clarus never made it out.” Cinero looked out at the devastation. He’d heard a lot of this already, of course, but he had no idea of the devastation that had been wrought on the area, and the castle overlooking the mountain pass. “The few survivors, the ones who were outside the Keep, told us that the plants grew in seconds, sealing everyone inside. We don’t know what caused it.”
“And we have to get in there and get the Prince back out?” Cinero asked.
“Yeah,” Rubicus said. “What’s left of him, anyway. I don’t think a decade on there’s going to be a lot to pick up. Especially if wild animals got in.”
“Don’t be morbid, Ruben,” Flaveo said, grinning. “We’ve got a noble goal, might as well act like it.”
“You never do,” Caerella said. Flaveo shrugged, his face a mask of innocence. “And it’s entirely possible we’ll fail.” Flaveo looked a little hurt, putting his hands on his hips, but before he could retort, Caerella cut him off. “We’re far from the first attempt to enter Caledon Keep, and we’ll likely not be the last. And I’m not dying in there just to bring the King back a corpse and what’s left of a crown. If it becomes too much to handle, we leave.”
“Yes, yes,” Flaveo said. “But what if we didn’t, though? What if we do bring Clarus back? The King will shower us in gold, praise, maybe some landed titles...” He put his hands behind his head and stretched. Flaveo was... extravagant, when he allowed himself to be. Thin, on the lanky side of things, with greyish blonde hair, but Cinero knew not to pick a fight with him. More than one boisterous wrestling match had ended with Flaveo tying his opponent into knots.
“Yes, I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic to see his long-dead son’s lifeless body,” Caerella sneered. “Are we all ready to head out?”
“You’re not eating?” Cinero looked up at her, and she shook her head.
“I work better on an empty stomach. Besides, I had a full lunch.” She turned on her heel and started to walk towards the small path that led up to the Keep.
“Two whole carrots,” Rubicus whispered as he walked past Cinero.
“She’s practically bursting at the seams,” Flaveo quipped as he put the last of his rations back into his pack. “Honestly, I think she’ll have to watch her weight.”
“I can hear you both,” Caerella said from a ways ahead, and Rubicus grew red in the face. Flaveo didn’t even have the decency to pretend. He just kept the clever grin on his face and followed after.
Cinero felt weird about the whole exchange. Caerella and Rubicus had taken him under their wing a few years ago. After the war, he’d been orphaned, and mercenary regiments always needed hands to help with all the things mercenaries didn’t want to do themselves. That’s how Flaveo had started out. Technically, that’s what he still did, although at this point, he was essentially their little party’s cook, field medic, archivist, and accountant. Quartermaster general. While Cinero had been essentially under his command for a lot of his early days, Caerella and Rubicus had both been teaching him more martial skills as well.
And he’d resigned himself to it. With some luck, he’d one day be able to retire, or take a posting at a noble’s house for guard work. Less interesting and worse pay, but he wouldn’t be wearing uncomfortable armour all day, and, much more importantly, wouldn’t be risking his life and putting his body through extreme pressure on a regular basis. Life with the mercenaries had made him tough, and he hated it. He was athletic, and hated every second of it. All mercenaries were. Even Caerella. She was beautiful, sure, but in the way a knife could be beautiful, all steel and sharp edges. He hated that he was becoming like that, although he wouldn’t even get to be elegant like her.
H e’d talked about it to her, once, one night when he’d first started to learn to drink wine, beer and mead, explained to her in a moment of vulnerability that he didn’t want to become what a fighter would make him into. That he didn’t want to grow up to be a tough man like Rubicus. That if the choice was his, he wouldn’t be a man at all.
Caerella hadn’t understood. She’d tried. She’d empathised. But she hadn’t understood, not really. She’d told him that most people who end up in mercenary work were there against their wishes. That she too had given up on a life she’d wanted. That people like them had to make the best of things. Cinero had cried that night, and that had been the last time. He’d been fourteen. His stoicism had earned him his nickname, too. He didn’t cry. He didn’t laugh. Cinero, the Stoneface. It made things easier. A little bit. Not very much at all.
“Cinero!” Flaveo waved at him.
“Coming.”
The path up to the castle would have been, once upon a time, well-travelled. It snaked up the side of a cliff-face, five paces wide, and an attacking army would have been in view of the Keep the entire time. How the Imperial army had even been able to push up that far was almost beyond belief, but it had, and it had destroyed the Caledon Keep gatehouse in a fight Cinero didn’t really want to talk about.
He pulled gently at the collar of his armour, hoping to let some air in. He didn’t like wearing armour, especially on long treks like this, but Rubicus had been encouraging him to carry the weight, get used to it in every situation. Not that he thought he ever would be. It made him feel big, bulky, and he hated it. Not everyone had to wear it, which felt even more unfair.
“When you can dodge an arrow,” Rubicus had told him, “you can wear soft leather armour like Caerella. Until then, you wear the plate.” That had been the end of that whole conversation.
After about an hour of walking, the path became more difficult to traverse, because a lot of it had crumbled away. Cinero frowned. Eight years shouldn’t have been enough time to do that kind of damage. The answer to the question that formed in his mind came into view after a twist in the road. The cliff wall had partially crumbled, but the giant bolt was still embedded after all these years. It had clearly been fired from the Keep, and there were several more like it.
The way became more difficult to traverse after that. Rocks littered the ground, and there were marks on the ground that were vaguely shaped like bodies, shapes Cinero didn’t like to talk about.
Not that Cinero had never seen a dead body before, of course. He’d been only three when the war had broken out, and eleven when it had ended, more than enough time to see some death. But these blackened shapes were the wrong shape, and the wrong size. He recognised the silhouette of the infernal shapes, even after all this time, and he wished he hadn’t. They were all over, scorched into the ground, like they’d burned up where they’d fallen.
“You seen them too?” he heard Flaveo quietly say to Rubicus. His ears perked up, but he kept his distance. He got the feeling the other two would try to keep things light if they knew he was listening. It was a weird balance. On the one hand, he didn’t like that they would sometimes still treat him like a child. But then again, he also didn’t like that they expected him to already be a real man, which wasn’t any better.
“Yeah,” Rubicus said. “More than I expected.”
“Do you think there’s going to be any up there?”
“Doubt it,” the older man said, “but I don’t want to rule it out. Keep an eye out and some magic ready if you have it.”
“I’ve got something saved up,” Flaveo said with a chuckle, “don’t worry.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Rubicus added. “I’m not looking to get killed in here today.”
“That would be a rather disappointing end to our story, I agree.”
They grew quiet again, their boots on the ground a constant rhythm as what was left of the gatehouse and the entrance to Caledon Keep, came ever closer. Even from here, the mass of thorny vines was easy to see and from the looks of things, the climb was likely to be the easiest part of their journey.
Chapter Two
Old Magics
There was not much left of the gatehouse. It was a pile of nothing, a large hole in the side of the mountain, overgrown with vines thicker than a wagon, covered in thorns the size of Cinero’s arm. He understood now, why it had been so hard for anyone to make it into the Keep since its destruction, and this was just the entryway. The unnatural growth extended to the entirety of the battlements, snaking through solid stone as if it wasn’t even there.
“Bleeding hells,” Rubicus said. “This is worse than I thought.” He walked up to the vines and carefully observed them, taking care to keep his distance. Caerella was pacing back and forth, looking for a path of entry that was most definitely not there.
“Agreed,” she whispered quietly. “I could, maybe, climb over.” She grabbed one of the thorns and gave it an experimental tug. “But a false move would probably prove... well, if not fatal, then more than a little painful.”
“Poisoned, do you think?” Rubicus drew his sword and poked the fleshy tendrils. A few dribbles of sap ran down the length of it, and he studied the thick liquid. Caerella nodded her head from side to side.
“Hard to say,” Flaveo mused. “It’s magical, so anything could happen.”
“Speaking of which,” Rubicus said, sheathing his sword. “Do you think it’ll work?”
“Of course it’ll work!” The quartermaster was downright offended. “Be my guest, if you have any doubts.” Caerella sighed and walked back a little, leaning against the cliffside wall. The pass Caledon Keep had been built in was high up, and a dangerous trek even on a sunny day, but the mountains on either side of it went up for another mile or more.
“Cinero,” Rubicus said, jutting his jaw forward, “the short sword, I think.”
“Are you sure?” Flaveo asked with a grin. “It’s getting a bit brittle, that one.”
“It’ll be fine. The short one.” He held out his hand and Cinero took off his pack. Other than some supplies, he also carried a small arsenal of weapons with him. They hadn’t wanted to risk riding a horse up the pass, and he was glad to take it off for a moment, even if he wasn’t going to actually say something.
Retrieving the small, blackened sword, he drew it for a moment. Flaveo wasn’t wrong. The steel was getting to be fragile. He handed it to Rubicus, who nodded a thank you at him, and then positioned himself where the vines were at their thinnest. Without a word, Flaveo retrieved a small spherical phial with a golden liquid inside it, and held it up against the afternoon’s light.
“You got the right one?” Caerella asked. “I don’t want to have a repeat of last month.”
“Nobody got hurt, did they?” Flaveo snarked. “But yes, I do.” He tossed it at Rubicus, who snatched it out of the air. “Half should do.”
“Like last time? Not taking any chances, Veo,” Rubicus chuckled. He pulled the cork off with his teeth and drank the entire liquid in a single gulp. “How long?” he asked, maybe a bit too late, as he pulled the short sword free of its scabbard, and held it up, looking down its edge towards what had once probably been a portcullis.
“Ten, fifteen seconds, I think.” Flaveo pulled a piece of dried meat out of a pocket and chewed on it thoughtfully, but he was looking intently. “More than that and you’ll take your arm off.”
Rubicus counted under his breath while Caerella, Flaveo and Cinero moved aside a bit to stand behind him. Magic could be unpredictable at the best of times, and Rubicus had a tendency to take risks where he didn’t have to. Cinero had learned that much over the years.
“Ten,” Flaveo mumbled, “Nine. Eight.” He was staring directly at the large man in front of him, who took a deep breath and exhaled, pointing the sword forward and his entire body tensed up.
It wasn’t a sight Cinero had the chance to see very often. Magic was dangerous, something not usually seen outside of battle, and difficult to control. The kind of power it provided took its toll. The edges of Rubicus’ armour began to glow, crackling with a static power that made the air smell unnatural, strangely clean and sterile. The glow began to run down the cracks in Rubicus’ armour, following hard lines like weightless water, all beginning to converge on his outstretched arm.
