finally spoke. âHere we areâthe old road. Donât have to worry about sinkholes, washoutsâ¦and itâs a smoother ride.â Once he had the wagon headed south on the gray stone road, Royalt shifted his weight in the seat and smiled. âGood roads. Have to admit the ancients built good roads.â
The ever-present red dust had drifted into piles beside the road, now dampened by the mist, and in places, encroached slightly on the gray stones that, even when scratched or cutâand that was hard to doâshowed no trace of damage by the next day. The road ran straight as a rifle barrel from north to south between Soulend and Iron Stem. That much Alucius knew. He also knew that not many people lived in Soulend, and that it was much colder than in Iron Stem or in any of the more southern Iron Valleys.
The boy glanced back over his shoulder. The clouds had lifted some, and the mist-blurred Aerlal Plateau scarcely looked any smaller or any farther away, even after two vingts of travel. If the clouds did not descend again, the plateau would look almost the same from Iron Stem, he knew. His eyes went to the empty gray stone road ahead.
âThis is a good road, isnât it, Grandfather?â
âThat it is, lad.â
âNot many people travel it.â
âWhen it was built, back before the dark days, there were more people in the world, and it was a road many people traveled.â
âThe dark days were a long time ago,â Alucius pointed out, hoping that his grandsire would offer more than his usually clipped explanation.
âThat they were.â Royalt paused, glancing sideways at the boy. âSo long ago and so terrible that we canât count exactly the years.â He paused again. âThey were dark years, because everything changed. Some of the legends say they were dark because the sun did not shine for a year. Others said that was because the Duarchy ran dark with the blood of men and women who fought demons from beyond the skies. Still others claimed that those days were so terrible that no one will ever know what happened except those who died or lived through them.â He cleared his throat once more before continuing. âLife changed. We know that. Iron Stemâdo you know where the name came from?â
âFrom the iron mines and the mill, you said. Thatâs all you said.â
âIron Stem had the mines and the big mill, and the mill used to make iron ingots as big as a man, and they put them on huge wagons and drove them down to Dekhron and put them on barges. The barges carried the iron to Faitel, and the artisans and engineers there formed the iron into tools and weapons and beams that held up buildings all over the Duarchy.â
âAn iron ingot as big as a man?â
Royalt nodded. âSome were bigger than that. I saw one, when I wasnât much older than you. They found a stack of them, buried under clay, coated in wax or something. Looked as if theyâd been formed maybe a year before.â He laughed. âTook a double team to move each one. Sold them to the Lanachronans. Town had golds for years.â
âWhat happened? Why did the mill stop?â
âThe weather changed. Thatâs what they say. Some say the soarers did it. Whatever caused itâ¦it takes lots of water to make iron, and it stopped raining. We used to have forests here, like the big trees on the river. You have to have rain for that. People needed the trees and cut them, but new trees didnât grow. It was too dry. The air got bad in the coal mines, and then there were creatures there, like black sandersâ¦â Royal shrugged. âNo coal, no waterâ¦and for a long time, no one needed much iron. So many people died everywhere that there were tools and weapons enough for anyone left.â
âThatâs sad,â Alucius said.
âWellâ¦we wouldnât be herders if it hadnât changed,â Royalt pointed