Soldiers of the empire tore through the encampment not long after the knights had grabbed Soran and myself. A horde of silver-donned behemoths, trampling over the tents and tearing down any evidence that the people were here. They worked quickly and effectively, listening to commands the instant they were given.
But even with their glistening armour reflecting the specks of sun between the leaves, they were nothing compared to the abhorrent scene on the forest floor. Merciless was one word that came to mind. Bodies were scattered across the floor, and it was clear many of them had tried to flee from the soldiers. Sword wounds gaped over the backs of many, especially the women. Some of the men had tried to fight back, and I held down whatever liquid was forcing its way up my throat as I walked past dismembered limbs and decapitated torsos. Pools of blood painted trees, leaves and many of the knights themselves. These people had been slaughtered…
The knight who grabbed me, who I was assuming was the commander, led me alongside the chained Soran. The old man could not lift his gaze from the ground. No word was spoken and before long, I was shoved into the back of a wooden carriage. I found it rather strange that the knights placed both Soran and myself within the same carriage with the older man chained up.
Soran was downright defeated. The man who sat across from me deflated on the seat; a complete change to the man who spoke to me beside the fire. Gone was the shine that held the final, stray rope of hope that he had and when the knight whipped the horses, the shudder of the wooden vehicle barely moved the man.
The horror of the campsite soon drifted out of sight as the horses pulled their load out and away from the forest. I gaped at the sheer size of the trees and the density in which they were packed reminded me of the cigarettes in my father’s cigarette packet. It was difficult to see how the sun managed to penetrate the cluster of leaves. It was a miracle that they even found me there.
“Where are we going?” I asked the commander.
The Knight Commander glanced over his shoulder and the rugged, buzzed head regarded me like an insect someone would find beneath their boots. He rolled his eyes, oblivious that I could see him through the tarp.
“To the Empire’s closest stronghold. Just sit back, Summoned One.” He said, ending any further conversation there.
I sat in silence for the unbearable, foreseeable journey, wondering why I was in this world. I watched the landscape pass by, and marvelled at the chance to see the world around me as more than a passing blur from a train, or the concrete jungles of the cities. The spectacular greenery rolled on for miles, until the horizon dipped and vision stretched to its limits. Spots of forests dotted the land in small clusters, and it was a grave difference from the world I knew. Looking out across the colourful landscape began to make me feel nauseous so I settled against the carriage’s bench, losing myself in my thoughts. Trying to hold onto the images of the serene scenery was impossible as the dead expressions of all of those people lingered like a bad cold.
“We are approaching Florian now, Summoned One.” The commander announced. I tried to imagine what this Florian place would look like. Grand walls lined with archers in a typical Norman-style square keep fortress? Though part of me was struggling to hold the bile in my stomach, the fantasy-loving, rpg-playing nerd was shuffling in anticipation. Anything that might take me away from my thoughts.
“Remain inside the cart,” Came a clear order. A few moments later, the commander was talking to what I assumed to be a guard at the city’s entrance.
Glancing out the back of the tarp, trying to get a glimpse of the city, I noticed nothing but the glaring sun beaming down. However, between the blinding rays of the setting sunlight, there were obvious signs of a battle. I squinted hard, and saw the green grass trampled into browning sludge. Multiple silhouettes roamed the area, smacking the ground with the end of a stick of some kind. I couldn't ascertain any more details before a looming, stone-brick arch blocked out the sun, casting us in a great shadow. The brick work was aged, taking a battering from the elements over countless years of standing tall. But, along the side, where two pillars acted as the arch’s support, the bricks were scarred by great, black scorch marks. Burns that ran down the upper half of each pillar as though the architecture was tainted by something sinister and I had to wonder about the freshness of such marks.
As this had to be the entrance to the city, I was expecting the hills to drop and level out into some kind of concreted or cobbled street surrounded on both sides by tightly packed terraced houses made of old, failing wood.
That was not the case. Rather, the luscious hills only shrank slightly as the wall surrounding the city was built on top of the rolling landscape not too dissimilar to the Great Wall of China. Homes or places of work were built upon the slants, the bases and the tips of these mounds with cobbled paths linking each and every one.
Between all of this, flora of all manner of colours blossomed and bloomed and tried to make themselves known to the citizens. They grew in shrubs, between the cobbles even climbing up the buildings like a rainbow had splashed onto ivy and provided a lovely, aromatic fragrance that danced lightly on the breeze. Each building or structure was occupying a different space that was not taken by nature, creating this vast, natural city of stone and wood that sparkled under the Sun's light.
If I wasn’t sure about where I was, this scene rolling away onto the landscape like some kind of nostalgic end credits of a movie cemented it for me. This was definitely another world. Nowhere on Earth would match this geographic paradise.
Eventually, we rode downhill, bouncing along slabs of gravel that shook the cart with a violence that chilled me to my core. I gripped the wooden backrest and clung to it for dear life, only letting go when it was clear that the cart was not going to capsize and I was going to be safe from being dragged along.
The gravel paved way to a nice, firm ground that stole the sights away from the rest of the gorgeous city. No longer on mud, dirt or gravel, the cart rode the smoothest it ever did, with the hooves clacking a gentle rhythm. We rounded something and I caught a glimpse at a landmark that stood on its own in the dead centre. I could only catch the sheer white of stone before the cart began to ascend around another corner.
This place is like a pure fantasy… I marvelled.
However, the more houses we passed, the more unease that settled in. Regardless of the sight and the smell, there was something that did not sit right. Maybe it was just what I was used to, but this city was exceedingly quiet. The sun hadn’t fully set and yet there wasn’t a single soul on the hills or wandering the streets. I wasn’t usually one for people but even another strange face would have been just as welcome.
“It’s more beautiful at night.” The hoarseness of Soran’s voice caught me off guard. I turned to the old man and my jaw fell. What was once a somewhat hearty shade of pink, was now a pale, yellowing complexion. The only colour laid on his wrists where the weight of the rusting iron chains had chafed against his skin causing a raw, red ring on each one. His dull, greying eyes were ever so slightly sunken into his face and a fierce sweat permeated from his pores.
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If I had to guess, the old man was fighting a horrendous infection. One likely caused during the raid on the camp. My fault…
“What do you mean?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“Everyone lit up the lanterns hanging from their windows and celebrated the-” Soran hacked as a couch wrecked his chest, “The day…” It was as though every breath he took was a stab to his chest. “That won’t happen now…” The coughing began again.
“Why?”
Soran didn’t respond. The carriage finally came to a halt and the horses gave an audible sigh. As the commander hopped off the driver’s seat, the cart shook and Soran took that chance to yank at my collar.
“Be. Careful.”
“Let go of the Summoned One!” A pommel crunched against the old man’s nose and split it with a sickening spray of blood. I felt the warm liquid splatter on my face and my legs gave out beneath me. I had been in fights before, sure, and blood didn’t make me feel uneasy. But seeing the skin on the bridge of the nose burst open from an impact only ten centimetres away from my face really did not help my nerves.
With wide eyes, I watched as two more knights yanked and dragged the old man out. His screams would forever be imprinted on my mind. I had no idea where they would take him, but a part of me was glad that I wasn’t him. A feeling that I did not take pride in.
That feeling soon turned to awe as I stepped onto the stone floor.
A pristine, gargantuan palace towered high above me, with the towers scraping the skies and caressing the clouds. Shades of green and yellow twisted around each other as the smooth marble walls of the palace, with golden floral highlights lined each pillar. Roughly six of those pillars climbed either side of the grand, dark birch doors. The doors were intricately carved with the vines of various plants, all in a lighter shade of brown. However, the blossoming flowers on the end of each stalk were made out of impeccable steel woven into the petals of each different flower. That same steelwork was used for the handles on the door and the commander wasted no time in pushing through.
Immediately, the space opened up into a glorious hallway adorned with silk drapes and the common emerald theme ran through the inside of the building too. Adjacent to the door, on both sides, were sparkling marble staircases. This time a mixture of whites and greys before they led up onto a walkway that I could easily say would fit an average height bungalow beneath with room to spare. I noticed a pair of eyes watching me and a young woman, dressed in a rough terracotta dress, with a cream headband gave me a simple smile before walking off. I pushed her face to the back of my mind as I still took in my new surroundings.
From the ceiling, hanging down on colossal black chains, were glistening chandeliers and the sheer scale of them caught me off guard. The fortunes needed for one of those alone had to be five times more than what my parents paid for their house, and this place had three of them hanging there. What I first thought was glass, reflecting the lights coming from each candle - of which there were at least fifty - was actually a crystal that wrapped around the tendrils extending from the central jewel. A priceless gem that slotted perfectly under each chandelier.
A bright yellow carpet, similar to the colour one would choose for the sun when drawing a picture, split the entranceway down the middle. Either side of this carpet was an assortment of limestone statues of a single person in a variety of poses. The beauty of the woman was displayed clearly and I had to give credit to the sculptor as they managed to accurately implement the expressions on her face so everyone knew exactly what she was feeling. It reminded me of the greek sculptures that I had seen in museums but more clothes and less about the anatomy. The commander led me along this carpet and down to another set of imposing doors. These ones did not have the intricate carvings of gorgeous plants. Instead, the carving was of the very woman in the statues. In one hand she held a clump of soil with a single, tiny flower sprouting out from it. In the other, she had her hand in a rippling body of water and a school of fish swam close to her hand but not so close that they were touching her.
I would have loved to have seen this artistry in colour. The minute details were perfect.
Who is this woman?
“Through here.” The commander huffed, pushing the doors open and revealing an even greater space.
The colours of the building's exterior and entranceway disappeared in this room. A glossy white enveloped every square inch of wall and floor. Only the carpet continued on whilst the pure white was broken by the fact that the designer of this room had decided to tile the place up. Where the carpet stopped, there was a small set of stairs; at the top of which sat a single, emerald throne. But it was what sat behind the throne that really drew my eyes.
There, in excruciating, distinguished detail, was the very same pattern engraved on the door. The woman, wrapped in a magnificent veil similar to how a Greek goddess would have been. A golden crown intertwined with woven, rich brown hair, and the same gold strapped around her waist in a thick, floral belt that accentuated the curves. Doe-like brown eyes accompanied by bold eyelashes whilst her face held a natural, feminine grace as she smiled at the fish in the water. Even the background depicted a great blue sky, void of any clouds and a healthy field of harvest swaying behind her.
The more I stared, the more I thought that the woman's eyes were staring straight at me. But I knew this was only a trick of the eyes. Many posters back home did the same thing.
I filed in after the commander and we passed the steps to the throne, walking into a room to the side. The closer we got to this room, the easier it became to hear voices coming from within. Voices that I actually recognised.
“-they can’t find him?” I knew that voice, and even though I wasn’t a fan of it’s owner, it was still great to hear.
“They will find him! I am sure that they will.” I knew that one too and a bubbling excitement welled within me to hear the familiar, albeit flustered voice.
I walked quietly into the dimly lit room behind the commander. The two voices were in such a heated exchange that they did not notice the fully armoured knight clunking in. My heart swelled knowing that she was okay. Her short red hair bounced as she slammed her hands onto a massive round table, yelling at the scowling face opposite her. Aimy was wearing some type of dress that hugged at her body slightly but reminded me more of a mage's attire from a video game I once played.
Saxon stood across from her in a puffy tunic and tight trousers which gave him the perfect pompous nobleman look. It fit him very well though the white of the tunic was a clear discrepancy compared to his impure life.
“There are barely any of us here, What makes you think that Thomas had also managed to make it like we did?” Saxon gestured to the room, and it was then that I saw barely a handful of others from the course. I recognised their faces but their names were lost on me.
“I cannot give up on him, Saxon.” Aimy said, her head dropping to the table.
“You don’t need to.”
Her head whipped round so quickly, I thought it would fly off her neck. Aimy’s blue eyes and freckled face were etched with worry but that vanished into a beaming smile as she charged at me, crushing me in a tight hug.
“You’re alive!” She cried, and I felt the front of my tunic dampen bit by bit. Aimy was actually crying into my chest. I swallowed the lump in my throat and hugged my friend tighter.
“So are you,” I whispered to her, trying to comfort her.
“It is good to see you alive.” Saxon said. Though when I looked up to thank him, he was scowling at Aimy’s back. I gave him a tight lipped nod and squeezed Aimy that extra bit.
Aimy’s warmth was incredibly welcoming, and with the current situation, I hoped she appreciated this as much as I did. It had seemed as though Aimy was the one actively trying to find me, but I had some doubts about the reason why they did come and find me.
“What happened?” I asked her as she pulled away from me.
“You-”
“You do not need to have this conversation just yet, young man.”