Chapter Three: Deep City
[Oswald Faun]
It hurt, he did not know how long he had run but it hurt. He gasped for each breath, each beat of the heart like another hammer blow, his joints cracked; each new step an agony. His body was at its upper most limit, he could push no further, go no further and ever so slowly he began to lose pace.
After escaping from the dwarf he had run as far and as fast as his legs could carry him. In hindsight it wasn’t the smartest move. He’d pushed his body too far, past its limit; he’d done that twice now, first in order to survive the desert and secondly to escape the dwarf and that girl. He shuddered; right now, this very moment he was standing in a place where no human had stood before. It was an adventure, the kind he had dreamed of long ago. Sitting in the library before mountain after mountain of books, this was what he had dreamed of. But now, standing before it all, his life hanging by a thread, what could he do but fear?
He panted his body finally grounding to a halt, his lungs burning as if they were choked by flames. He couldn’t do it again he knew that, he couldn’t push past his limits any more, his body ached , it was but a hands breadth from collapse, death was a certainty if he strained his body any further than he already had. But he needed to leave; there was a promise he had to keep.
But first he should to rest, just for a short while, he needed to rest...
Oswald paused his vision swimming, the world blurring before him like paint upon a wet canvass, smeared and bent his body falling backwards to prop itself up against a wall.
He was standing within an alley, bathed in weak light – that of a sunset - the sounds of the busy high street beyond beating like thunder in his skull. He was tired. So very tired. His eyelids fell, sinking shut, darkness spreading as his limbs quickly lost their strength his body slipping down to rest within the sand that seemed to cover the city. And at last the dreams claimed what was left of his frayed mind.
And there within a city of monsters Oswald Faun slept. Unaware of what his actions would set in motion.
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[Yule Orn]
The crowd passed, as it did each day. People came and went flowing in undercurrents that no one could quite grasp. They came of all races, all creeds, a city where all were welcome. Ranging in height from two-foot to twenty, colours flashed and blared, bright reds, yellows and blues against pale greys and dark blacks. Cordant was a city of trade. For forty years it had held prominent trade routes to all but one of the nine great cities. They even bartered with human settlements when the occasion arose. And even if the standard market was decreasing due to the war Cordant thrived. But that wasn’t to say the city was not affected by the events of the wider world. No it was plain as day, a tension held within the shoulders, the faintest flicker of the eye. Everyone knew that war was coming. They had lost contact with the great cities of Bost and Amenia long ago, and now it seemed Kaltet would soon be lost, the land Seljuk was slowly falling into chaos and it was only a matter of time before Cordant fell to the crusaders. The worst part was no one was even sure how the humans were defeating the great cities with such ease. Each and every one was a fortress unto themselves, armed and armoured with all that nature and their conventions could supply, and still they were sundered to brick dust and bones leaving only questions behind.
A sigh escaped her lips, half closed eyes surveying the scene before her; she was tired. Deep rings hung beneath her eyes a sickly black in colour, the result of a four day expedition with the guards; training was brutal. Of course even training had it limits resulting in four days of reprieve to offset the workload. Of course that didn’t mean her mother wouldn’t find some meaningless chore to saddle her width. Three hours! She hadn’t gotten three hours sleep last night, instead one of the maids barged in containing her mother’s latest proclamation.
She looked down to check the note her mother had given her. Yule squinted looking past the curls and ornamentations to read a rather blunt demand for her to traipse through town and locate a cosmetics store dubbed Arley’s Parlour and obtain something called White base 023. She didn’t understand the need for her mother to buy make up, especially white make up, she was already pale – unhealthily so – it seemed rather redundant. At least she took after her father more than her mother, possessing his own rather tanned complexion. She sighed taking a turn into one of the less lively roads of the market district.
It had been a while since Yule went out into the city proper; usually her time was spent in the pursuit of other more important things; like defending the city, or in other words swinging at a wooden pole. She didn’t attend the regular schools; her mother demanded she receive tutors, and she had when she was young. She hadn’t lasted a month under their’ suffocating rule before abandoning the pursuit in search of better ways to spend her time. So she had gravitated to the training grounds where her uncle worked. There she had been enchanted by tales the instructors weaved, that of battle against the invasive human forces from the west, and their righteous victories and near defeats that had founded Cordant. It was only natural that she would want to become a soldier herself and surprisingly her mother had no complaints...
That woman truly was confusing. Yule groaned again, she didn’t understand why her father had married that woman. Part of it must have been due to one political contract or another, but she doubted that would make her father actually marry someone he didn’t like the man was too headstrong. No matter how hard she tried she just couldn’t wrap her head around it.
Yule continued her search, her gaze passing over the shops, colourful signage dancing before her eyes. The myriad bright colours made her feel somewhat sick inside. She should just get everything over with: Find this shop and buy whatever new cosmetic craze had caught her mother’s eye and find herself once more within the padded sheets of her bed. Yule paused for a moment, a small thought popping into her head. Normally if she was going into town she would drop by Durre’s place, the Old dwarf always was in need of company. That was what Arda said at least, why such a lovely young woman would marry that grumpy oaf she could not fathom. A sigh escaped her lips, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly; Durre was one of the best artificers in the city, it was always good to drop by and see if he had anything new on the shelves anyway; it wouldn’t take long. Yule blinked before shaking her head, she needed to focus and staying awake and getting her idiotic errand over with, the store was just another block away.
And then out of the blue it appeared, sigh a dazzling red, while the store front was a sickly lime green, decorations hung within the window look out onto the street, row after row of produce visible, a series of almost nauseas smells wafting outwards from the doorway. And before such a task Yule felt fear. She had fought monsters, she had trained for the past ten years until her body was forged into a lethal weapon, and yet before such force she shrunk. Just the mere thought of fashion terrified her. She looked to the women in the street passing about her, sharp gazes turned from the corners of their eyes. They marked her baggy white top, immense sleeves falling past her arms to conceal the muscular body beneath while from her waist descending a skirt that fell to her ankles where wooden sandals rested, a heavy red rope tied about her waist threaded through her families crest embossed up an iron disk on her back. Just because she had no fashion sense did not mean that she couldn’t understand the appeal. It was simply a sacrifice she had to make when becoming a soldier.
She nodded in an attempt to assure herself before pushing her way into the store. A bell rang above a sharp trill echoing through the air as Yule purveyed the store inside, her gaze that of a seasoned commander. The customers gaze her quick glances beneath wide brimmed hats before one of the clerks, a young elfin man approached. “How may I help you today ma’am?” He questioned smiling up at her, talking down to people was awkward.
“Ah... well do you have any of this?” She shoved the piece of paper towards the elf. The young man almost startled before grabbing the note.
“We do although, and please do not take offence, with your complexion I would advise another product, perhaps...” The young man proceeded to babble on about different kinds of makeup dragging her around the shop and forcing her to try some on despite her complaints. She was brought to each and every one of the shops amenities and given a complete over view of their purposes before at last the elf stopped leaving her by the counter an expectant view on his face. “I’m just running an errand... Can you get this for me please?” She half whispered her face turned down a heavy blush slowly forming. The young man’s face darkened, a shadowy pall cast over his once fine features. He nodded moving towards one of the rear shelves. Yule felt a slight twinge in her chest “Actually, I did like the look of that, accessory you showed be, the one with the beads.” She put in the young man halting before giving a quick nod of the head a small smile reasserting itself on his face.
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Sand and dust filled the air, people laughed and talked each voice so small but slowly growing into a cacophony of sound. They moved in flows, surging here and there from stand to stand, each searching for something, looking for something. And In the Markets of Cordant anything could be found.
Yule stared on, her gaze dull, her complexion grey, a bag of cosmetics clutched in one hand the other clenching and unclenching. She was late; the bazaar had already opened, thousands of city goers having already streamed into the maze of tents and stalls, booths and bars, sprawling from the castle outwards. Why had she humoured him? The young elf had dragged her to look at all of their merchandise several times over, leaving her with over a dozen products, each costing no more than a few coins, but slowly building to an obnoxious sum. And now the market was thronged with people making it that much harder to navigate. It seemed she wouldn’t be getting to sleep anytime soon.
As far as she saw it there were only two viable options available. Either she waded through a sea of market goers, facing an onslaught of knees elbows and curses. Otherwise she’d simply slip into one of the nearby alleyways and follow it upwards toward the centre of the bazaar. Yule stood half-lidded eyes shifting from the dark alley towards the living current raging past her. She sighed slipping silently into the alleyway.
The houses were built close together, with barely enough room to allow her to pass. Anything larger than an orc wouldn’t be able to push through no matter how much they tried. Yule began a steady march lifting her feet high in an attempt from having her feet plastered with sand. Cordant’s only real problem was the sand, it got everywhere, it was out on the street, in people’s homes, everywhere you went there would always be sand. She sighed pushing her pace faster, Cordant was a fairly safe city, perhaps there were a few people of ill-repute but the guards were a rigid order, and having been trained by such a group, she wasn’t afraid of pickpockets, that said common sense argued against her hanging around within dark allies. She just needed to keep going, her home and her bed not far away. She took a turn, moving down a second alley, passing through the channels with a practiced hand moving towards the bazaars centre. After several quick turns down perhaps a dozen streets, the roar of the crowd quickly began to grow. Yule pushed harder her feet dragging leaving trails within the sand while her hand reached out lightly to prop herself up against the wall. She really did need to sleep.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
It hit her in an instant – her vision spinning – Yule sent sprawling to the floor, a jolt rushing through her body, the eyes crashing closed as a dull pain quickly flowed through her side. She responded in an instant a wave of adrenalin pushing past the exhaustion. Yule pushed herself upwards to her feet her hand grasping at the knife fastened at her hip, wild eyes flaring as she turned towards the figure that had sent her tumbling into the sand.
He lay there, in silence, sallow skin drenched in sweat, he was topless, his ribs clear in the light, lank black hair falling backwards at shoulder height while dull eyes stared useless towards the nearest wall. He looked like a corpse. Yule sighed, the tension leaving her body, she had no idea why a sand wraith was sleeping out in middle of an alley, but undead in general were not well known for their common sense. The man moved slowly pulling in the errant leg that had sent her stumbling into the sand, but quickly a clarity entered his eyes. Near black turning to a warm brown as he leapt to his feet, with an agility that his fragile form belay. Bleary eyes swung about, surveying the scene quickly falling upon her, his expression easing slightly. And then it came over him in a wave, it was practically palpable, the fear that radiated off of him, pure unadulterated terror crashing down in a cascade.
Yule stepped backwards, looking at the man before her it was like she had just cornered a wild beast. Then Wraith spun his eyes turning from her to spin down to the other side of the alley, searching for an escape. But what he found was something else entirely.
“I’ve finally found ya lad, you need to come with me, before ya cause a riot!” a deep voice boomed echoing through the closed walls, a short cloaked figure carrying a club stepping towards them. The wraith glared towards the dwarf flickering down to the club in his hands and slowly began to walk.
“Hey what’s going on!” Yule shouted stepping forwards, her heat slowly rising in pitch and pace, until it thundered in her ears. She didn’t like this situation not one bit. The Wraith now stood just before the dwarf, a heavy tension hanging within the air, like a bowstring just about to break. And then the arrow flew.
Yule reached out grasping for the wraith, whatever was going on here was shady, as a future guard wasn’t it her job to stop such things. But in that instant as her hand reached for the man he stepped forwards, his movements like the wind, he leapt forwards a foot planting itself on the dwarf’s chest stomping him down into the sand before the fragile figure quickly vanished down an alleyway with an unnatural speed. The dwarf cursed lying on the ground quickly struggling to stand. Yule approached dagger in hand her gaze focusing down upon the cloaked figure, the blade pointed towards his throat while one hand flipped back the hood.
“Durre?” her voice lingered in the air breaking the tense silence as the dwarf groaned raising himself up.
“What are you just standing here for, let’s get him!”
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One card, It all rested on one card.
Everything fell on that card, tattered and beaten – turned at the edges – whether he lived or died, the three of clubs would carry him. He clutched it between his fingers a warding talisman. His eyes staring down the bridge of his nose to fix his foes in place. A troll and an orc, under normal circumstances an imp would stand no chance going head to head against these beasts of the battlefield, but when they drew cards only luck, intuition and intelligence would count. And in such regards an imp was a truly terrifying force.
So Why... Why was he losing?
A thin film of sweat had gathered upon his forehead his fingers shaking his card in hand, waiting for Tolk to make his move. The Troll stared intently at his own cards as if deciding which one of them would taste the best. Ein waited, As long as he kept his last card, as long as the game kept going there would always be the chance to win. And if he lost his sister would probably kick him out of the house for a few days – again.
Currently he had the smallest stack of books, so if he lost that would mean that Tolk (the troll currently sitting opposite him scratching a strange lump on the side of his neck) would win, by whatever miracle had blessed his pea sized brain. “Rossan got any threes?” Tolk’s slurred at last glaring at the orc, whose face was hidden behind his cards.
“Nah, go fish.” The orc grinned his eyes grazing over his cards once more. Tolk’s entire head turned a hazy shade of red before a heavy fist slammed down upon the crate they were using as a makeshift table.
“I don’t believe ya, show me yer cards. We all know yer’ a cheat.”
“Oh shut it you moron, that isn’t how the game works.” The two began to yell their voices rising high over the walls of the little alleyway sitting outside of their favourite pub. Ein sighed bowing his head and waiting for the argument to die down. Part of him hoped Tolk would get angry and just call off the game, although the troll would probably just walk off with all their money anyway. But seeing as the troll currently held the best position in the game, it was unlikely, well for now.
“Agh, fine you go!” The troll yelled dropping onto the reed mat that acted as his seat shuffling his cards over each other as if he was consider what to do next, everyone knew he was clueless. The trio were sitting outside; Yalhara’s bar, it was a seedy place, no mistake about that, but it was one of the finest the slums had to offer, mainly because there was a rather low chance of fights breaking out. Yalhara was a ghoul, and one thing ghouls are known for, even more so than other undead, was there temper, especially the part where they lose it and try to bite the person closest to them. The slums being mainly made up of Goblinoid races and a few Bestia no one wanted to start anything with an undead who had once fought on the front lines against the crusaders. As to the reason they selected such a place to have their game Tolk had claimed it was a good place to play cards, though the real reason was blatantly obvious. As soon as the man won he would use the money to drink himself into a stupor and pass out in the street where some pickpocket would likely come along and steal whatever pittance he had left. Of course if he lost he would do that anyway, the only difference it made was what kind of drunk he would be. Ein shook his head he needed to focus on the game, for whatever good it would do.
“Ok... Ein you got any sixes?” The orc questioned waving a card in his face.
“Uh, no... Go fish.” He gave his response as quickly as possible looking for a way to turn the game around.
That was when he heard it, echoing through the streets, the sound of slapping...
Ein paused, turning around on his seat to look back down the street. The sound was coming from an alleyway, it was the middle of the day, most decent people would wait until evening at least. He shook his head and began to turn around, but the sound was drawing closer. He raised an eyebrow as it last a shadowy figure burst from the alleyway skidding through the streets a cloud of dust thrown up in his wake.
The imp began to rose, only making it up one knee before the figure had closed in further than he would like – which was swiftly followed by a brief moment of clarity before the two bodies collided. Ein felt his bones shake as a man twice his size and just under his weight crashed headlong into him, the two of their bodies sprawling into the crate. A howl slipped from his lips as the sound of wood crunching beneath them rang out. That would bruise gods that was going to bruise badly. He could already feel it spreading as a slew of howling shouts rang from his lips incoherent and jumbled. “What the hell!” Tolk yelled staring at the cards scattered about the floor upon their impact, searching frantically for the bag of coins they had each bet upon the game. “No, the money; Rossan help me find the damn money.”
“It’s just a couple coppers and some silver, pocket change nothing more.” The orc sighed pushing through the scraps of wood his face dull despite the man who had just come flying into their company. Things like that happened in the slums.
“You bastard...” Tolk dark blue eyes flaring up as a stout head spun around to glare at the man slowly struggling to his feet. A dark air flooded through the alley Tolk reaching out to grab the man, the vein upon his forehead throbbing violently “You’ll pay fer that. How much you got on you!” He threw the man against the wall. Ein rose slowly, tears rimming his eyes as he glared at the man now lying in the corner. The man was skinny, unnaturally so. He must have been a wraith there was no other reason someone would be so thin, but there was something off about his eyes there was a strange light there.
“I don’t think he has money.” Rossan muttered recovering a few coins from the floor, the rest still missing somewhere. “He’s wearing rags, and even wraiths shouldn’t be that thin. Probably doesn’t even have a home. He’s worse off than us and that’s something.”
“You including yourself in that ‘us’ there merchant boy.” Tolk growled back. The two locked eyes before a brief cough erupted from the undead.
All three turned in an instant their eyes locking on a young man as a spout of blood leapt from his lips black as night and oily. They withdrew quickly, whatever that stuff was it wasn’t hygienic. Even Tolk who had had his finger up his nose for the better portion of the game knew that. “I don’t think it’s worth it.” Ein muttered withdrawing quickly. If he told his sister that he’d been mugged, and she believed him, he may only get kicked out for a day or two. But before Tolk or Rossan could reply, their came another set of footsteps from the same alley.
“Get back! It... It aint safe.” The figure skidded to a halt to examine the scene. The figure was shrouded in a grey cloak and carrying a club only a thick beard visible beneath the cloak.
The man’s eyes quickly surveyed the scene before landing on the wraith lying unconscious on the floor his breathing heavy. “You did this?” The voice was filled with hostility, those dark eyes pinning the trio down as the club was raised.
And then Tolk made his move.
“Yeah we did, an’ you’ll get the same unless you hand over what ya’ got.” Tolk yelled stepping forward a slight tremor running through the earth a small dust cloud thrown up. The man did not react. “You see me an’ them we’re...” Tolk began his tone stronger believing his bluff had taken hold before the wooden club found itself planted in his crotch. A low wheeze rang through the air, before the bludgeon swung around striking his skull. Even for a troll that had to hurt, His crotch not his head – the gods knew he was too thick the feel anything up there. Rossan cursed realising that Tolk had turned the situation into a full blown fight and draw his short-sword from about his hip. Ein mimicked the action reaching for a small carving knife in his pocket before he had the chance to remove it from his wooden sheath Rossan’s blade flew through the air sailing high overhead his hand clutched tightly to his chest a pained expression on his face. And once more the sound of footsteps rang through the street.
“Run!” Rossan yelled grabbing Tolk’s arm and dragging the troll away, the duo hobbling away, Ein tripping over himself to follow after.
They moved as fast as possible slipping behind a building, and waiting to make sure that there were no sounds of pursuit. “What the hell!” Rossan cursed staring down at his hands “The bones must be broken. Damn, damn it!” He hissed venom swelling his voice. Of course it was nothing to the black expression festering on Tolk’s face, his teeth were grit and knuckles white, eyes a burning pool of blue flame. Ein shivered, it would not be good if the two sides ever met again. He supposed he was lucky coming out unscathed.
They were sat behind a warehouse, the windows broken, and from beyond their little alcove the voices carried, that of the cloaked man and a young woman. “Durre, tell me what’s going on.” Her voice was weaved with exhaustion, heavy pants filling the air. Ein crept forwards to get a proper look peering about the corner of the warehouse.
“To put it simply we’re protecting this kid. He came in from the desert. Heaven knows how far he walked just to get here.” The Dwarf muttered throwing back his hood a sorry expression making an appearance on a gruff face as he looked up towards the elf girl.
“Then why was he running?” The girl questioned slipping what appeared to be a dagger back to a sheath by her hip, all but the handle hidden in her dress.
“That’s simple.” The voice was clear cut and flowing, cold as ice, and calm as a winter lake. His hair was silver and as for his uniform; royal blue– his eyes the pale blue of a cloudy sky – and going by the braided rope and gilded tag about his neck his was a high ranking military official. The man knelt beside the unconscious wraith a grim expression asserting itself.
“Luscious?” The young woman whispered stepping forwards. The man turned to meet her gaze a weary smile on his face.
“He’s a human.”