The first thing Liam did when he finished breakfast was to get back to his quarters and prepare to head out for the day. The clothes he'd worn for the meal were a bit too fancy for walking around all over the place, especially since he had plans to enjoy the festivities to their fullest.
As he put everything together, he paused when he checked on the tiny marble of aether inside one of the secret pockets of his “improvised” armor. Had it shrunk? It wasn’t much, but it was enough for him to suspect he might have touched the little ball with his right hand, leaving his guests to suck up on the mana-rich meal.
Concerned this might have extended elsewhere, he used the aether-marble on his two divine tools to verify whether they were fully charged or not. The rope ignored the aether, not even taking a bite, but the knife gobbled from it until the amount of aether he had left halved. Liam was a bit startled at this; he could’ve sworn the first thing he’d done upon discovering the stash from the collector was to fill both divine tools to the brim. If both had needed refilling, then it would’ve made sense due to his right hand having messed things up. But only the knife had.
A trickle of paranoia wormed its way in. The knife was monumentally dangerous, and he’d made sure not to leave it out of sight, always within reach. Why had it been missing charges? His inability to recall why that might be was part of the reason for concern, mostly because the knife could’ve been used to erase the memory. But he still had the knife, and... there wasn’t much else he could do. Hopefully, this was just due to some sort of accidental activation or during some experimenting.
Putting the thought aside, he sheathed the knife into his boot and strapped its handle in so that it’d be impossible to fall off by accident. Then he tied the spell-knot rope around his waist under his pants, carefully making sure that even if it activated, it wouldn’t just rip him in half, and then put on his now-clean traveling gear.
Ready to go and roaring to get on with the festivities, he set out towards the gate.
Yet activity near the storage building caught his attention, and upon his approach, he saw Imani there. The leonid was in a training area of some sort, wielding a large stick and twirling it around as she smacked it against a wooden post. Her four feline paws danced back and forth as her human-ish half kept leaning forward and back, each twist and turn an attack or a dodge against an invisible opponent.
Her ear perked up and her head snapped, locking onto Liam with ferocious sharpness, freezing on the spot.
He stopped and took half a step back.
“Oh.” Imani lowered the staff, her face relaxing. “Are you leaving? Can I come?”
“Sure...?” Liam put up a friendly smile. “Are you alright?”
She didn’t answer, glancing down at the wooden weapon. “I’ll be back in a minute.” And immediately ran off, kicking dust in her wake as she rushed towards the guest quarters.
Much to Liam’s surprise, she’d been true to her word. Within nearly a minute she’d returned in an equally desperate sprint, drenched from head to paw and dripping all over the place as she hadn’t even bothered to change equipment, merely putting on two sheathed scimitars at her waist.
Noticing the desperate look in her eyes, he didn’t ask questions and only led the way out of the compound. It wasn’t until they’d made it a few blocks away that she took one very long look around and let out a long sigh. Imani slumped her shoulders and combed her dreadlocks back between her fingers as she stared up and muttered something under her breath.
“Are you alright?” Liam asked again, this time with some genuine concern.
“The air is dry, and I don’t mind it,” she said, squeezing some water out of her clothes.
“I meant in general. You seem… tense.”
Imani regarded him for a moment before shaking her head. “That place has more luxuries than my tribe could see within a lifetime.” She shook her head. “The scents are too strong, the pillows too soft, the water so pure, the food too full of sugar or spice, everything is too clean, and the servants too… servile.” The leonid visibly shuddered. “It feels like a honeytrap, waiting to close its jaws around you.”
“I…” Liam scratched his cheek awkwardly, sympathizing a little with her feelings of being overwhelmed. “Would you like to look for an alternative? We don’t need to stick together if you’re-”
“I can tolerate it,” she proclaimed firmly. “I was hired to be your bodyguard, and that place is…” Slowing down, she glanced around, lowering her voice. “It is dangerous for us.”
“Dangerous?”
“Because we… have the Guardian,” Imani spoke, giving him a very meaningful look.
Right, she was trying to convey their situation with Bunny. She was an aspect of a non-pantheonic deity, so for all intents and purposes, she would be seen as basically an enemy of the state… a status that would extend to them if they were found out.
Liam shrugged. “Well, my plans for the day are to eat everything that is tasty and have as much fun as I can. Neither of which lead back to the Amil’s place.”
“A crowd is… better, and the guardian might be nearer too,” Imani nodded, relaxing somewhat. “I will take this opportunity to seek out possible recruits.”
“You sure you don’t want to… and she’s gone.”
Liam’s shoulders slumped as she left; he’d wanted to see her let loose, but thus far the leonid appeared trapped between slightly-nervous and overly-nervous. Grumbling to himself, he made a mental note to forcefully put Imani on paid leave at some point. Maybe that way she’d finally take a breather… though as things were, she’d likely head off away from them during that time-out.
Grumbling to himself and promising he’d one day have a relaxed chat with a relaxed Imani, he set out to the first and most important part of the competition: the climbing. It had been the biggest feature of this whole thing, and apparently important enough that anyone who reached the top would get to meet the Emir in person (though the monetary compensation was based on the order).
So he asked around and got pointed at the district nearest the port, as apparently that was the side of the peak that was the most vertical.
Though the streets near the Amil’s place were relatively empty (seemingly kept that way by guards), everywhere else was packed to the gills. The scent of food was so pervasive it choked out the air, thick meats and vegetables getting cooked at every other stall. Every stall owner was either engaged in a haggling match with a customer or shouting for their wares to draw in new ones.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
It was a beautiful, deafening cacophony to the senses, one that would’ve driven Liam mad if he were forced to live through it, but that right here and right now filled him to the brim with excitement. Every single stop had something to draw his eye, his ear, or his nose. He wasn’t hungry, yet every food stand left his mouth watering, calling him with a siren’s song promising a fuller belly.
He’d made sure to bring his own cup and utensils, tucked away in a pouch and waiting for their chance to shine.
The real stars of the show were the ice-cream food stands. There had to be no more than a dozen throughout the city, each of them sporting their own guards. The ice-cream would be freshly made, with the owner pouring a thin layer of juice on a super-cold sheet of copper and using spatulas to scrape and mix everything. The whole process looked like trying to chop a slushy that hardened into a frappe after about a minute.
Liam didn’t get a chance to get a close look at the metal they used, but he was fairly certain it was either enchanted or it had a very big block of ice directly underneath. Whatever the case, the crowd around the stands was packed, everyone practically throwing coins at the vendors just to get some of the tasty treat into their cups.
Making a quick mental note on the matter, he continued onwards.
It wasn’t hard to find the place; it was a plaza at the edge of the city, with the plaza itself wrapping around the inner edge of the smaller beak. It was there where a crowd had gathered, men and women of a wide range of races stood near the center of the plaza, right in the shade of the beak. Outside, there were many others, watching and milling about. Apparently the competition had not yet started, but it was on its way.
“You come for the competition too?”
A gruff voice startled him, and he turned to look at an orc. The guy was easily a meter taller than Liam, with a wiry body made of sinew, grayish-green skin, and small scars, copper-adorned tusks peeking out from his thick lower lip, and a face that was otherwise flatter than a brick wall.
“Mostly to see how far up I can get,” Liam cheerily confirmed, stepping into the open area of the plaza alongside the stranger. “Name’s Liam.”
“Wolf,” the orc growled out.
He gave Wolf a long look, trying to imagine how the aspect felt about this whole thing. “Green doesn’t suit you.”
“I agree, black is better,” she answered with a humorless chuckle, her gaze following the lip of the beak all the way up, uttering her words in one of the many obscure languages Liam had been taught by Maridah. “Is your hunt going well?”
“What hunt?”
“Ah,” Wolf chuckled darkly. “So you are the one being hunted.” She smirked at him before turning to look ahead. “I believe I will not be keeping your pace; it would be too slow.”
Though he agreed, he also felt himself bristle a little as he followed her gaze. The locals had set up checkpoints on the way up, wooden cabins fixed onto the beak itself rather than the ropes that hung from the inside of it. Each checkpoint was at the same height as the ropes, with the first one being a couple of dozen meters up, the second at a hundred, the third at three hundred, the fourth at six hundred, and the last at nearly over a kilometer.
“Yeah, I don’t think I can make it past the second checkpoint,” he doubted he’d make it that far in a climb that was this vertical. Hell, doing so in more inclined trees had left him completely wrecked.
“I recommend getting off at the first one regardless; the competition is fierce this year, lots of gold in the betting rooms,” the aspect-pretending-to-be-a-male-orc eyed him with amber eyes. “There are many bets on how many people will fall before the third checkpoint.”
He’d been about to ask what was significant about that particular detail, but they’d reached the throng of competitors and the guards had started hushing everyone. One of the guards, wearing a beak-like insignia on their turban, spoke up to the crowd teetering at the edge of the plaza. “If anyone else wishes to participate, this is your last chance to join and put your name down!”
Several more hurried along, at which point the guards started asking for names and giving each of them a number. They used paint to plaster the participant’s number on their shirts and backs. Liam gave his name and was given the number 187, while Wolf gave some weird guttural-sounding name and was given 188. The numbers were drawn in a glyph-like system that reminded Liam of Nordic runes.
All in all, there were around three hundred participants.
“Listen up! No pushing, no grappling, no dropping, no magic, no enchantments, and no flying!” the guard with the adorned turban declared, the final part being punctuated by his eyes fixating on the handful of winged people that were participating. “Each checkpoint is a place where you can rest for as long as you like, and from where you’ll be allowed to walk off. There is no shame in not reaching the top!”
His hand pointed upwards, whistling loudly. At the sound, someone on the second checkpoint leaned over the edge and released a bright red light. It was a flare of some kind.
“Free water and food on checkpoint two.” Another whistle, and checkpoint three released a green light. “Anyone who reaches checkpoint three gets a silver coin. Do not underestimate this; most competitors that reach checkpoint three do so by sundown. Anyone wishing to continue on to checkpoint four will be loaned one of these.” The guard pulled out a set of silver manacles. “They are enchanted to save your life if you fall down, but if you do fall down, you will be expected to pay the cost of recharging the enchantment, which will be twelve gold pieces. Steal it and that’ll be sixty.” When he spoke the amount, the crowd of participants shuddered. “If you fall without one of these, we might be able to catch you, but we also might miss. Whatever the case, at least make it amusing!”
His voice turned into an almost bark-like laugh, one echoed by the contestants. A great deal of the people near and around Liam were talking to one another in amicable laughs, a few of them retelling some of the gruesome fates of the people from last year. Liam grimaced at the thought of it, wondering whether the Emir’s people only gave the enchanted manacles after the third checkpoint merely because they didn’t have enough of them… or to keep the macabre accidents as part of the amusement.
Next to him, Wolf appeared solely focused on the wall they were meant to climb, opening and closing her hands.
Another whistle, and another flare lit up further up.
“Checkpoint four gives any contestant that makes it there a gold coin. And three gold coins if you reach checkpoint five.” Another long whistle, and this time a flare lit up at the very cusp of the smaller beak. “Make it to the top before the third sundown, and you will get a hundred gold coins. Make it up at all and you’ll get to meet the Emir!”
All around them, the crowd cheered, both the participants and the observers.
“Now get to it!”
And they were off.
In an orderly fashion.
The edge of the beak had several rows of steps and handholds carved into it, some being more worn than others. It had likely been the method used in the older years to more easily get to the top (at least when you didn’t have a mage to just fly you up, or wings).
Participants would gather into a line for each of the rows, no one looking willing or interested in using alternate paths. Clearly, this was going off of marathon rules, finishing the race would take too long for a first-to-climb advantage to matter much.
Right as it was their turn, Liam noticed the sharpness of the footholds, every hole looking freshly carved, with no sign of wear.
“Must be some pretty hard stuff.” He wondered idly whether the holes had been made by magic, and if the material from the beak was usable.
“A divine tool was used to make these,” Wolf commented as she poked at the handhold, testing her grip.
“Yeah, that would explain why I haven’t seen any buildings or soldiers sporting pieces of the beak. The stuff must be frustratingly hard to carve.” He mimicked Wolf, taking hold of the nearest hole and testing how comfortable it was to grasp.
A low rumbling sound echoed all around them, the ground shook, and the vibrations traveled up the beak, knocking down some dust from further up. It was gone as quickly as it came, barely a second, one where everyone had stopped, hesitating.
“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” Liam chuckled as he tentatively began to climb.
Wolf’s eyes narrowed as she watched him carefully.