Tirian was jerked awake by an arm on his shoulder. With squinting eyes, he looked up. Seeing that damned sent-priest again. “I had hoped you showing up had been a dream.”

Kal let out a chuckle. “You should pray I don’t turn into a nightmare. Come on, it’s been five hours. We’re here.”

Tirian looked around. The trackwagon had stopped, the sun was just dipping past the horizon to the east, and to his west… well… what Tirian saw made his jaw drop.

On top of a large, plateau-like hill, sat a massive city. The area was covered in small, flat-top hills. Some even had bridges built between the steeper ones with the narrower gaps between them. The hills were so large they may as well have been mountains. And covering every hill was a wide variety of buildings, even in the fading light he could see they were painted in a plethora of colors.

Kal stood up. “Come on, time to get off.”

Kal headed toward the front of the trackwagon, and Tirian hopped up to follow. He noticed that most of the other seats were now empty, but as he got off he noticed that there were no other passengers getting on.

Kal stepped out, giving the operator a quick nod, and Tirian followed close behind. Now that he was out, he could see the path that lay before them better. The city’s largest hill was surrounded by a ring of high walls, with a massive ramp sloping gently up to a main gate. On either side of the ramp was a series of smaller streets and homes, with some of them blocking the way between them and the ramp.

Tirian’s jaw dropped. The ramp bore hundreds of people, all waiting to get into the city before night completely fell. Most of them wouldn’t make it and may even need to camp out at the gates. Tirian wondered how late the inns were open, and if there were any other way around.

“Don’t worry, we’re not taking the main road,” Kal said. He pulled out his jade pendant and showed it to Tirian. “Sent-priest Kalentatharon Monrediu doesn’t wait in lines, especially when he’s on a mission for his god.”

Tirian almost rolled his eyes but held back. “So, what are we going to do?”

“Once we get past the homes, we’ll climb the ramp and use my pendant to get right in. Bollusag will want to know that you’re here.”

Tirian frowned. “We don’t just want to grab some beds for the night and do it in the morning?”

Kal shook his head. “No, my god’s instructions were specific.”

They began to walk the winding streets, the ramp still clearly visible above the homes.

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“That looks like it was hard to build,” Tirian said, motioning up at the ramp.

Kal nodded. “A thousand corpists, ten thousand acolytes feeding them corpist energy, and millions of bricks gifted to Bollusag by the first king of Rissas. It was quite the undertaking.”

Tirian could sense a moderate tone of annoyance in the sentence. “Seems like a fine gift.”

Kal grunted.

“But you don’t like it?”

Kal shrugged his shoulders, "I don't like it when kings try to get gods into their debt.”

“I don’t like it when anyone gets put under a debt,” Tirian said.

“We all do our part to serve,” Kal said.

This time, it was Tirian’s turn to shrug. “And the gods accumulate the gifts of service long after their servants are dead.”

Kal glared. "I would speak of the gods with more respect, if I were you."

“And if I were you, I’d respect the right God,” a voice hissed.

***

Kal whipped his gaze behind them. Behind them, men approached with daggers, rough clothes, and rougher expressions. Damn, Kal thought, I thought I was safe to take a rest from heightened hearing. He’d been improving his senses almost the entire time in Elmarad’s territory. He should have been safe here. But these men had murder in their eyes, and now that Kal was improving his senses, he detected increased heartrates and blood pressure among these four.

A skinnier man on the far right grinned wickedly. “Ah! It’s a bloody-body priest, travelling all alone.”

Kal’s body tensed, he pulled more corpist energy from his Core, strengthening his muscles and speeding up his reflexes. “Do I look like a corpist to you?”

“Your pendant marks you as one. Unless you stole it off another priest? That would make us fast friends.”

Kal scowled. These men had been following them from the trackwagon. He cursed himself even more for not paying enough attention.

"Get out of here if you know what's good for you," Kal said, putting himself between Tirian and the thugs. He had no love for the thief, but his oaths to Bollusag were paramount. And he intended to get Tirian into Bollusag’s presence. No matter the cost.

“Just another petty priest,” one of the other thugs said, a tall, thick man with an unkempt beard that covered his chin and neck. "Hey Alroy, how much would Mispuri pay for a blood-priest’s jade?”

Kal narrowed his eyes. "Not worth what it'll cost you." So, these were more of those damned Mispuri fanatics? This close to the center of Bollusag’s domain? Things were getting worse.

Kal whispered to Tirian, “Head that way, you’ll find the priest’s gate. Tell them Kalentatharon Monrediu sent you. They’ll make sure you make it.”

Tirian laughed. “It looks like I don’t even have the option to consider your well-intentioned sacrifice.”

Kal frowned and looked behind him. Up ahead, on the small road between them and the city proper, were three more men. They bore knives and wicked grins.

Kal hoped Tirian could face those three alone as the four approached the other way. The man with the ugly beard stepped forward first, thrusting a jagged knife at Kal’s stomach.

Kal's hands moved in a flash. He brought his hands down in a strength-enhanced strike and snapped the man's wrist with an echoing crack. The man held on to his dangling wrist, screaming in pain as Kal kicked him in the chest. Knocking him back.

The thug stumbled back with a dent in his chest, his ribs broken. Kal raised a blood-covered fist to strike the next man. The men were coordinated, but still just human.

Unfortunately, Kal was using too much energy. And soon, he would run out.