CHAPTER TWO
AROUND THE TWIST AND TURNS OF DUSK MOTHER
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Lysander
Lysander fell.
The capital city of the Ambertin region was one of tall hills of amber and stone, with buildings perched upon them like sentinels above the cobbled streets that wove and twisted through the lower lands in between them, with occasional carved staircases to ascend them and cobbled rises for carriages and horses to ride upon to reach their high peaks.
From above one of these high hills, Lysander fell with Bowen screaming like a little girl on his shoulder. While still far from the ground, Lysander reached into his soul for the vibration that all echo mages felt and used to create their magic. He felt the vibration that hummed from within the abyss of his soul. Lysander held on to its steady hum and reached beyond the bounds of himself to the world and felt for a vibration, and like a particularly violent spell, his mind exploded with different vibrations—the winds that whistled in his ears, the ground that he approached so quickly, the voices of the crowd below, and even his own emotions. Everything in the world vibrated with life, and like a bard tuning his lute, Lysander tuned out the unnecessary vibrations and attuned to that of the fickle and elusive wind. It was ever-changing and hard to attune with, but Lysander had practised, and he accomplished it. Lysander felt it when resonance was accomplished, his soul and the wind seeming to have become one.
Just before he could hit the ground, Lysander reached out to the wind, and as if it were his own limbs, it answered, catching him in a vortex that gently lowered them to the ground—at least gentle in the pace Lysander was moving at.
Lysander landed amidst a lightly crowded street, causing a small commotion among the high-class-looking citizens walking about, and didn’t waste time over-observing his environment. With a single look around, he dashed towards the Hive Market, usually the most crowded place in all of the capital city of Dusk Mother. Running through the street, he reduced his speed due to the number of people and carriages roaming about the city, but even with that, he was still able to reach the market. Before entering the market, he dropped down Bowen in a corner alley so they wouldn’t attract too many eyes.
With a polite smile, Lysander dusted off Bowen’s shoulder, the man had been flopping around on Lysander's shoulder like a kidnapped princess.
“I never screamed, you hear me, boy,” he said, walking towards the alley mouth while arranging his long coat and hanging his lute across his shoulder.
“You’d probably want to go this way,” suggested Lysander in a light and friendly tone. Lysander heard Bowen change his direction with a loud cough, Lysander, who had already begun walking towards the alley mouth, heard Bowen’s footsteps close behind him.
Lysander reached within himself although this time not into his soul but his heart to a place where he kept all of his spells, where all echo mages kept all of their spells and more, his resonance chamber and then he cast one of his few spells and he felt a bit morr comfortable haveing his back so open to Bowen, Lysander was confident in stopping an attempt on his life with his own strangth while they were face to face but a stab to the back…
“Why did you run?” Bowen asked in a low voice. “I mean, I know if something like that happens, you run, but seeing your skills in the ‘arts,’ I bet you're an underling of the monarch.”
Lysander nodded along with what Bowen was saying. one rule most people of fantis always followed was to not get caught near a big echo event. But Lysander's reason was different…
Lysander laughed lightly. “Paperwork.”
“Huh?” Bowen answered in bafflement. “Paperwork?” he asked as if his ears had deceived him.
“Like you said, I was an ‘underling of the monarch’, so I had nothing to fear from her, really, just the paperwork, and I really want to get out of this city.” Lysander said, picking up his pace. His words seem to have given his body urgency again.
Paperwork will be child's play if I let the monarch get a hold of me again. He thought a bit of weary.
“Hmmm, I see. So, where’s the destination?” Bowen questioned. Looking at the man's face quickly, Lysander could tell that the man had just decided not to prey any further.
“You’re free to go your own way when we enter the Hive Market. Just lose your lute for a few days, and everything should be good,” Lysander said with a shrug.
He flicked a look at the forty something looking man, and not only his lute caught the eye… I bet other bards also have dreadlocks, probably…
“What? You’re going to leave your partner just like that?” Bowen asked in an overly dramatic voice that screamed of hurt and betrayal.
“Partners?”
“Yes, you write the songs, I sing them. You write the tales, I tell them…” he trailed off at the increase in people in the street, and Lysander turned back to see him pushing past two ladies.
Lysander slowed down with a slight smile on his lips. Interesting, this is definitely something I’m interested in. Didn’t Uncle say an inn was part of the business he was leaving for us? pondered Lysander. However he soon realised a problem.
“Aren’t you interested? It can be beneficial—you have amazing stories and songs, and I have the talent to perform,” Bowen began as he got back, but this time, he walked by Lysander’s side.
“I have to admit it’s a nice idea, but I’m currently on my way to the middle of nowhere.”
“Hmmm, I bet we can arrange something then…”
They reached the entrance to the hive market, and like its name expressed, it was a giant hole that led into one of the hills. Lysander looked back for a moment and saw the city rising behind them, Dusk Mother was a city with a level-by-level structure, some places higher than others and the centre being the highest like a god watching over it followers, however one thing that caught the eyes were the barren top of the peak called Queens rise.
They entered the market, and Lysander noticed that most of the talisman around the entrance had broken. That can't be good…
The market was a hub of sound and life. The air was thick with the scent of fragrance, ingredients, sweat, and so much more that it seemed an attack to the senses.
“Get your cold pepper over here!” shouted a boy standing in front of a small shop. He showed off the freshness of the product to the crowd, and behind him, a fat middle-aged woman attended to patreons.
The market was neatly organised with shops at the conner's of the walkways, and the walkways spread throughout the massive carvern like blood vessels. The entirity of the market glowed a bright amber colour that was created from the amber crystals above, Lysander had no idea if it was echo imprinted or not.
“Freshly cut gesk leaves, only for the price of two orb ruby oryies!” All over the market such shouts could be heard and both men and women although mostly women walked about buying different things.
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They walked slowly through the crowd although Lysander felt a need for haste, he always finds himself feeling most alive in places that showed him that all he had fought for during his past years mattered, and he relished in that feeling, he even had a feeling of wanting to join in and buy something, but he kept moving forwards.
The sound was chaotic, and yet Lysander felt a smile on his face. After all, he was used to loud noises but of a different type. A woman pulled his hand. “Good sir, a charm of good luck for only five amber chips oryies.” The woman was frail-looking with a gentle smile on her face.
Lysander lips narrowed.
He gave her the oryies chips, a bunch of amber-glowing fragments of a whole oryies orb. He was walking away when he heard a voice.
“You forgot to take the charm. Don’t mind if I do.” Lysander turned and looked at the ebony-skinned man with incredulous eyes.
“I already feel all my misfortune washing off,” Bowen said while putting on the charm necklace with a pendant that looked like a key.
Is he mad? He just… Well, he's not long for this world.
Lysander looked behind Bowen, and, as expected, the woman was nowhere to be seen. Ahhh, we're the hell are the patrol!
“Are you sure you’re a bard? Not some high-class performer, but an actual bard?” Bowen squinted at Lysander.
“You didn’t hit your head now, did you?”
“I just didn’t think you’d like death as much. I know you’re a bit old, but I guessed you still had a bit of life in you,” Lysander said, his face holding a puzzled expression. “I probably guessed wrong.”
“It’s just a charm. What’s the big deal?”
“That pendant is a key…” Lysander said like he was spelling everything out to a little kid. “A key to the Lake.”
“The Lake…” Bowen repeated, his face growing pale.
He didn’t need to ask Lysander which lake—after all, there was only one lake called “The Lake.”
Lysander sighed. He knew Bowen couldn't be blaimed for making the mistake. After all, very few knew about the Lake watcher.
“I-is there any way to stop its summons?” Bowen asked, but he was not as frantic as Lysander had expected.
Bowen held Lysander's shoulder, and they both stopped to let a lady and her children walk past. Lysander noticed a little boy trying to take an oryies or two from the lady.
Lysander watched the boy without making a move. He had a red handkerchief tied around his belt. Thief master. Lysander knew if he stopped this boy here, he'd need to take down the thief masters in the capital and hold himself back.
“Excuse me, madam,” Lysander called, and the lady turned, while her children gazed up at Bowen and Lysander with suspicious eyes.
“You dropped these.” Lysander gave the woman two amber orb oryies. “You should be careful with your money in markets. Most people will find it rather hard to give it back.”
“Ah, thank you very much, sir.” The lady bowed her head, and Lysander nodded and was about to walk off when…
“You should keep one of these as a sign of my thanks.” Lysander just smiled and waved goodbye to the nice and proper-mannered lady.
“Won’t you answer my question, young Lysander?” Bowen asked, but before Lysander could answer, he waved it off. “It’s no issue, I have my ways.” He pulled out a book from nowhere. At least, that was what most would think, but Lysander saw right through the trick.
“Sure, but if you want more information about it, you can ask my friend when we meet up. She knows a lot of things—I even call her my personal dictionary,” Lysander said with a self-pleased smile. Nobles sure are useful.
After a while, they passed through the market and walked towards the towering walls of the capital, and at this time, dusk was already in full swing. Lysander stopped and looked at the more silent Bowen, he had been going through different books, although he still managed to be talkative, but a bit less so since the charm, before he turned to the highest peak in all of Dusk Mother, the Queen’s Rise. As the last lights of the sun flickered and vanished into the cloud blanket, the Dusk Spiral, home to Her Sovereignty Katish Tometry, the Crimson Lady, appeared in all its glory and watched the capital city in an ethereal light of amber. Lysander sighed, knowing that this would be the last of the capital he saw in a long time—at least he hoped so.
“Splendid, isn’t she?” asked Bowen, in a voice that said he had a million words to say after you answer with just one.
“Very much so,” Lysander answered, not minding if Bowen had more to say.
“It was once a location that caused terror in the hearts of all men, at least till Katish Tometry, our now monarch, and her lover, Syris Tometry—” Lysander paused, hearing the latter name, but quickly shook it off.
“We should get going.”
Not long after, they reached a large compound near the wall of the capital, and the wall, which looked like a stone wall during the day, now glowed like amber with a burning heart within it.
I guess we'll have to wait till tomorrow to depart. Lysander, thought, in disappointment knowing no caravan would dear begin its travel during the evening, even with Judges patrolling the stone paths
Lysander exhaled. Even walking quickly, the capital was just too big without hiring a carriage.
They entered the compound with its waist-length walls and cobbled walkways, an annoyed voice was the first thing they heard.
“Where have you been, Major General?” asked a woman wearing clothes that were very uncommon for women. A grey-coloured coat reaching to her calf hung on her shoulders, and within that, she wore black suit trousers and a white long-sleeved button-down shirt with a black necktie made perfectly.
As she walked forward, the sound of her high heeled shoes knocking on the ground made Lysanded sigh.
“I think I should be the one asking you guys that question? Lora”
“Huh? In what world would you think that?” Lora said, walking towards Lysander and his beloved personal space.
One would think that she would have shown Lysander a bit more respect after hearing his rank but anyone who knew her would know that ranks mattered little to her.
Before she could reach him, he held her shoulders and held her a full hand's length away.
“Where's my cousin?”
“Tsk, since you missed the send away party he says he'll come tomorrow so he can spend more time with his ‘buddies’” replied Lora, her voice dripping with disgust and annoyance.
“I see, send away party? I thought we agreed on skipping that?”
Lora looked at Lysander with tired eyes.
“And when did we get that conversation? You know I've been buried under paperwork relating to your early retirement, the monarch is literally doing everything possible to delay your leave.” Lora said in a fed up voice her former strength evaporating into steam.
Lysander knew what the monarch was trying to do hence his haste in trying to leave the city before she threw a mission their way.
“I wished I had grown up in a normal family, I'd be attending balls and tea parties, not managing two…” Lysander pitied her, but he smiled. She repeated this scene so much that it just caused Lysander more laughter.
“Have you paid for our spot on a caravan?” asked Lysander.
“Yeah.” answered Lora walking towards a bench by the cobbled walkway.
“Why don't you show us the way?” Asked Lysander in a gentlemanly manner.
“Who's your new friend?” Lora asked her voice back to its professional and motherly tone.
“This is Bowen.” Lysander answered plainly.
“I am Bowen, partner to the young man Lysander or should I call him Major Lysander now.” Added Bowen in an overly formal and courtly manner.
“A bard? Already hiring for the business I see.”
Lora stood up and began guiding them through the maze of caravans, while Bowen was busy flipping through notes, Lysander was pleased to see that bards wrote down their tales and songs.
I knew that they couldn't hold that much information within their heads.
“Here We are, I'll go get a pass for your friend.”
Lysander stood there and looked up at the clouds that covered fantis like a blanket, and from beyond it a pale light could be seen, the moon.
I wonder what it looks like beyond the clouds