The Tower

Without the sun, moon, or stars, it was hard to keep track of time. Only sensations like thirst or weariness gave Martel a sense of how long they had journeyed, traversing the stone city. They stopped on occasion to drink water and rest a little bit, but otherwise kept up a strong pace. Having been through more than one forced march, Martel knew he could continue for much longer. The challenge was navigation.

During one of their breaks, Martel considered it once more. Given their starting point, they would have to go directly south to reach the copper lanes. Being underground, it was impossible to tell which direction that might be, so he would have to rely on finding the meeting place used by the Nine Lords instead. So far, they had not seen anything that might resemble it, and Martel searched his memory to think of anything that might help.

"The square we're looking for… It should be central in the city. If I recall, underneath what would be the market district above ground." Martel dearly hoped he remembered Kerra's words correctly, but it made sense. It would be about even distance for the different Nine Lords descending from each of their individual districts.

"I see. That would be southeast from where we began, but I admit that I have not the slightest idea of what is south or east." Eleanor got on her feet and looked around. "But we must have moved in a southerly direction to some extent. If we hold more to the left, that should be eastern to some degree."

Martel stood up as well, picking up his staff from where it leaned against a wall. "Alright. The square is used for meetings because of its central location, so we should stick to these wide, open streets. I remember one like it leading to the square."

They resumed their journey, walking quietly for a while until Eleanor broke the silence. "You said this is a place for meetings? Who would willingly go to this for something so trivial as a meeting?"

"People who don't trust each other and have no other neutral ground." Feeling her eyes on him, he continued, "Criminals."

"Martel."

"It's more complicated than that. In places like the copper lanes, the city guard has no presence. Those with money have the power, and only those willing to break the law make money. For better or worse, such people are the only authority in the district, and sometimes you end up working with them." Such as the Friar, whom Martel was not sure he would actually consider a criminal.

"When you say 'for better or worse', I assume it is primarily the latter."

Martel thought about when the pestilence had swept over the copper lanes; how Kerra and her men had helped enforce order and distribute supplies when the garrison had lacked the manpower to do so. As much as he hated to admit it, without Kerra, the copper lanes would have descended into mayhem with people fighting over scraps of food while waiting to die from a terrible disease. "Everything they do is motivated by self-interest, I admit. But sometimes, you don't have a choice."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Is that what brought you to this place? How did you get tangled up with such people?"

"I was naïve. I had not been long in the city. I needed money to help Shadi, one thing led to another, and I was spun deeper and deeper into their web. I was asked by the woman who runs the copper lanes to accompany her to a meeting here, so I did, without realising her true intentions."

"And what were they?"

"Bait. She used me to lure out her rival, who ambushed us. I nearly died, which seems quaint now, considering how many battles we have been through, but it was a frightening ordeal at the time. Especially considering how little magic I knew. Bit of a miracle I survived, really."

"Oh, Martel." He could feel her looking at him again. "I never knew. I wish I could have helped you."

Eleanor had done so, albeit without knowing she had. After emerging from his first foray into the Undercroft, she had been the first person he had gone to. They had not spoken much, but he had hugged her and reminded himself that not all was bad in the world. "Wait," Martel suddenly spoke, interrupting his own thoughts. He increased the light on his staff. "Is that a tower ahead?"

"It looks to be, yes. Have you seen that before?"

He nodded. "I have. On the outbound journey with the others, we passed it with the tower to our left. Now it's to our left again, but we're coming from north, meaning we are on the wrong side of it." His voice turned eager. "The street to our destination is on the other side of that tower."

She smiled faintly. "Let us go."

***

It took them a while, but having a sense of their bearings reinvigorated them both, and they moved at a brisk pace to reach the tower. It stretched up so high, Martel could not see the top. An enormous, open entrance stood before them, allowing passage inside the structure; he wondered if it had once contained a gate, or if the place had always been freely accessible.

On either side, buildings lay right against the tower, creating an obstacle. In the dark, he could not tell for how long the structures continued. "We could go around, but considering how much time we have already spent…" Especially wasting much of it because of his own frailty. "If there is an entrance on this side, I imagine there is one on the other, given how everything is symmetrical. We should be able to go straight through," Martel considered.

"Very well." Eleanor stepped forward to cross the threshold, and he followed immediately after. His magelight illuminated a large, empty space, but with a curiously low ceiling. This was no vaulted hall; instead, it felt like walking inside the hollow scabbard for a giant's sword.

They continued straightforward towards where the presumed exit to the other side should be. As they walked across the great room, Martel wondered at its purpose. He saw nothing that indicated its use. It did not seem like anybody's residence.

"Martel, wait." Eleanor stopped and stared directly into the ground. Martel follow her gaze. "Those are markings, right?"

Martel lowered the tip of his staff to better illuminate the floor right in front of them. She was right. Manmade symbols covered the ground in a circle, large enough for several people to stand within. He had no idea what they meant, but they looked strangely familiar. He had seen them before. The answer came to him with another flash of dreadful memories. The maleficar who had stalked Morcaster, creating her rituals using these signs. "Phoenik," he muttered, invoking the name of that ancient civilisation. "These are their symbols."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"I don't know. I have no idea what they say."

"But why are they here?"

Before Martel could answer, the symbols became illuminated with the shimmer of magic.