Chapter Three Ruhlin #2
“Ah.” The woman rested a hand on a pillar to lean yet closer, Ruhlin noting the way her overlong nails scraped grit from the rough surface. “Heard of you,” she said, small nostrils flaring. “You don’t smell like a legend.”
“And what does a legend smell like?” he enquired.
“No idea. But I’d guess less like bilge water and rat-shit.”
Ruhlin smiled in spite of his grim mood. This place and its guards were truly resembling an unbreakable chain, but potential allies were always to be welcomed. “My true name is Ruhlin ehs Kestryg,” he told Ohtera. “Of Ayl-Ah-Swahl.”
“Where’s that?” She leaned closer still, nails digging into the pillar.
“Far away across the sea. Beyond the Fire Islands in the Realm of Ascarlia…”
“Ohtera?” The voice came from a nearby cell as another woman stepped into the torchlight.
She was taller than Ohtera and, by Ruhlin’s judgement, a few years older.
She wore a thin shift and a shawl wrapped tight about her shoulders, but the most striking aspect of her appearance was the covering over her eyes.
A leather strap that appeared to have been crafted to fit her features and secured in place by a small lock at the rear of her skull, it must have rendered her completely blind.
“What is it?” the blindfolded woman said, extending a wavering hand. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s nothing, Fernhyld,” Ohtera said, nimbly hopping down from the barrier and going to the woman’s side. Sparing a glance at Ruhlin, she added, “Just another calf for the slaughter.” Taking her companion’s hand, she tugged her into the shadowed confines of the cell.
“Why are her eyes bound like that?” Ruhlin asked Silvahk, receiving a faint snort in response.
“You’d best hope you don’t find out. That one’s yours.
” The Ventra pointed to the cell alongside the one occupied by the two women.
“Thought you’d appreciate some company. You’ll find Ohtera full of questions come the morn.
She’s always keen to hear about the world beyond these walls, never having seen it. ”
“She was born here?”
Turning to go, Silvahk paused. “Don’t hold it against her,” he said.
“So was I.” With that, he strode off into the gloom, boots echoing loud.
For one irrational moment, Ruhlin considered pursuing him.
He would stir the monster’s wrath and break the Ventra’s neck before he could fix his gaze on the stagna.
It was a hopeless prospect, of course. The monster might awaken, or it might not.
And even if Ruhlin were to succeed in dispatching Silvahk, it would be impossible to escape this place without attracting the notice of the other Ventra stationed above.
In his cell he found a bed with a thin, down-filled mattress, a stoneware jug of water with bowl and cup, and a sand bucket, presumably for his bodily needs.
Some squinting also revealed a candle, taper and flint so at least he was able to banish the gloom.
Removing the shoes of thin leather Silvahk had provided back on the slave ship, Ruhlin lay down on the bed, pondering all he had learned during this strange day.
Yet, for all his cogitation upon impossibly old kings, and the question as to what precisely would happen to him in this place, it wasn’t long before his thoughts strayed to Aleida.
Her face seemed to hover before him in the wavering candlelight, becoming more real as slumber enticed him from the waking world.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, fingers reaching out to caress empty air. “I was a fool, and Julette and Tuhlan died for it. Please…” The words slipped from between his lips in a hiss as he slumped into a thankfully dreamless sleep. “Do not look for me…”
He woke to the sight of Ohtera perched upon the end of his bed. She offered no greeting, instead returning his bleary gaze with a steady one of her own. Groaning, Ruhlin sat up. “Silvahk said you’d have questions,” he said, scratching a hand through his hair.
“Ayil-Ahh-Swahl,” she said, carefully pronouncing each syllable. “Swahl means whale, doesn’t it?”
“It does.”
“So you have whales there?”
“At certain times of the year they migrate through our waters…” Ruhlin trailed off, heart growing heavy with the realisation that, in all likelihood, there were no more souls alive on that island to watch the white whales pass by.
“A whale is a great fish,” Ohtera said. “They are hunted for meat and the oil in their guts. I know this.”
“A whale is not a fish,” Ruhlin corrected her.
“But a beast that breathes air like we do, even though it lives in the sea. And not all are hunted, especially the white whales that come close to our island, for they have a great hatred of people. When they came, we kept the boats in harbour until they’d gone. ”
Ohtera let out a soft sigh, eyes growing wide. They tracked him as he rose from the bed to pour water into the bowl. “Tell me more,” she said as he splashed his face to banish the lingering fog of sleep. “Tell me of the queens you bow to. Have you seen them? Are they beautiful…?”
“They’re dead for all I know.” Ruhlin scraped moisture from his stubbled cheeks and turned to see Ohtera regarding him with a frown of pique. “You want to know more,” he said. “So do I. About this place, and what happens here. You tell me. I tell you. Seems fair, doesn’t it?”
She crinkled her brow before shrugging and leaping from his bed. She hadn’t appeared to flex her limbs much at all but the leap still brought her near the ceiling. Landing, she straightened and inclined her head at the door. “Come then. I’ll show you.”
Outside, a pair of young men were engaged in a wrestling match upon the sand-covered arena.
They grappled with a fierce intensity that contrasted with the cheerful laughter they emitted when one succeeded in throwing or pinning the other.
Upon noticing Ruhlin, they abandoned their contest, youthful faces becoming far more serious.
“So that’s him is it?” the taller of the two asked Ohtera as he wiped the sand from his sweat-beaded chest. “The great Amundyr himself.”
“Ruhlin ehs Kestryg,” Ruhlin said with a formal nod. “Amundyr was a name chosen for me.”
“And doesn’t seem to fit you all that well,” the shorter one said, splaying his arms in invitation. “Why not prove me wrong. I promise not to hurt you.” He gave a wolfish grin. “Not too much, at least.”
“Hulyk,” the taller wrestler snapped, meeting his companion’s eye and shaking his head. Ruhlin saw the similarity in their features then, the same thickness of jaw and prominence of nose. Brothers, he concluded. And the older is the smartest.
Hulyk’s grin shifted into a resentful frown and he stalked off to drink water from a nearby barrel while his brother offered Ruhlin a smile of apology.
“From what I hear,” he said. “Wrestling with you has but one outcome.” He came closer, extending a hand.
“I’m Tremyn. I trust our sister hasn’t pestered you too much. ”
“Sister?” Ruhlin asked, glancing at Ohtera.
“Merely by custom,” she said. “The Vortigurn insists those born here regard each other as siblings.”
“So you too have never seen the outside?” Ruhlin enquired of Tremyn.
“Oh, I’ve seen it,” he replied. “Those of us set upon the Ventra’s path must know the world if we are to serve the Vortigurn well.”
“Like a dog let out of its cage now and then,” Ohtera said, affording Tremyn a bland smile. “Just so it will continue to wag its tail for its masters.”
His features dimmed a little, but Ruhlin saw no real anger.
It appeared Ohtera’s fellow Kelven were accustomed to her jibes.
“Pay proper heed to your lessons and you would see its wonders for yourself, sister,” he said.
When she merely scowled in response, Tremyn afforded Ruhlin another nod and turned away, calling out to his brother.
“Come on then, idiot. Let’s see if you can last a few seconds before I sweep your legs again. ”
The younger sibling’s reply was short but rich in profanity, ending in a grunt as the two came together in a clinch.
As they did so, Ruhlin noticed how the air around them shimmered with heat, their skin reddening wherever they touched.
“Vyrnslahk,” Ohtera explained. “Flame-touched. They burn when they fight. Not enough to catch afire, but you don’t want their touch upon your skin. It hurts, a lot. Not them, though.”
She turned and started along the curving walkway, leading him to an arched opening between the rows of cells.
Following her through the arch, Ruhlin came to a halt at the sight of a large, cultivated space of trees and flower beds.
Leaves and blooms had been banished by winter’s kiss and the grass was mostly blanketed in snow.
However, it made for a liberating contrast to the cramped cells.
Several dozen people, mostly young like Ohtera and the two wrestlers, sat at a loose circle of stone tables.
Each was piled with food and drink and the air hummed with affable conversation that stilled as Ruhlin’s guide led him to a table with but one occupant.
“I wondered if you were ever coming,” Fernhyld said, the mock impatience of her tone belied by the smile on her lips.
“Amundyr, who isn’t really Amundyr, was telling me about whales,” Ohtera said.
Pressing a kiss to Fernhyld’s cheek, she sat beside her and immediately began helping herself to the food.
Bread, butter, and jars of preserved fruits were most in evidence, but Ruhlin also saw a platter of salted pork and his nose twitched at the familiar scent of pickled herring.
“What manner of whales?” Fernhyld asked, turning her blindfolded eyes in Ruhlin’s approximate direction.