It took six days of hard riding before they reached the outskirts of Tabīnat. Six days of sleeping no more than the absolute bare minimum required to stay in the saddle. But before they’d departed, S̆arrābī had emphasized the importance of speed.
“The mountain tribes are unlikely to kill them without ‘provocation,’ but what they consider provocation is…flexible,” he warned them. “Every day you waste is a day one of them might die.”
And thus they had ridden hard and fast, only stopping for the occasional brief respite.
The landscape stayed much the same from S̆addānu to Tabīnat. Great, rolling plains covered in coarse grass and the occasional grass were broken up only by the occasional river that wound its way down from the frozen peaks. The only thing that really changed was that the mountains gradually inched closer, dominating the sky even more thoroughly than before.
It was when they reached Tabīnat that things truly began to change. Sitting at the cusp between the plains and the higher, more fertile elevations on the northern side of Lake Yarhab, Tabīnat’s location was nearly ideal. The temperatures were cooler, but not yet cold. Fresh water was plentiful, broad, irrigated fields spanned the city on every side, and the lake provided easy access to the capital. By all accounts, Tabīnat should have become a booming city for trade.
Unfortunately for Tabīnat, the merchants had gravitated toward Qarānu instead. Located on the far side of the lake, Qarānu occupied a similarly blessed geographical location. But its proximity to both the Moon-kissed’s capital, Dūr-Yarha, and the mining mecca of Katmû had given it an advantage that Tabīnat just couldn’t match.
Thus Tabīnat had languished, the Cleveland to Qarānu’s Chicago. It was still a reasonably large city, though. As they skirted around the city’s walls, Jasper could see at least a dozen grey towers rising above the city, built in an architectural style quite unlike that of the Djinn. Hundreds of feet tall, the towers flared out at the top so widely that it was a wonder they managed to stay upright. You could probably build a small village on those.
“Like the towers?” Annatta asked.
He nodded. “What are they?”
“Remnants of the dorēsah, supposedly, from the time before they were cursed.” She nudged her horse closer to his, the poor creature struggling to keep up with the same pace that was for Dapplegrim a leisurely trot. “You can’t tell from here, but the towers have no path up to the top. The only way to get up there is by flying.”
“So they’re abandoned?” He asked.
“Nah,” the Djinn replied, shaking her head, “the firebirds have claimed the towers now. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll see one of them.”
“That would be cool,” he agreed, eagerly turning his eyes back to the skies. After the duel at the Seraph camp, Jasper had finally gotten around to asking about the firebirds. Widely considered the most elite Djinn warriors, the firebirds were famous for two things: their special breed of tsussîm that were larger, stronger, and more violent than their cousins, and their famous fire spell - a spell, which much like the one Jasper had recently acquired, ignored fire immunity. Feared and respected, the firebirds rose above the social hierarchy of the clans, answering only to the king.
But his hopes of seeing the strange warriors went unfilled. None of the firebirds streaked across the sky as they wound their way around the town. At the river, they were forced to take a ferry - the rushing waters from the mountain were too deep and wild to ford, and even then there was no sign of the warriors. It was not until the last glimmers of the towers faded into the haze that he was forced to admit that it wasn’t going to happen.
From Tabīnat, they turned to the south. Like the rest of the province, the borders were entirely enclosed by mountains, but the peaks here were different from those in the north. Technically belonging to a different range, the northern peaks were taller, their summits capped with almost perpetual snow and impassibly high cliffs that were difficult even for mages to cross over.
In the south, however, it was not so much the height of the mountains that made them impassible as it was their sheer numbers. Far shorter than the northern peaks, the spine of rocky ridges extended nearly two hundred miles to the south. Pocked by small valleys warmed by volcanic activity, they were full of monstrously large creatures and the ruins of a people that even the Djinn knew nothing of. None lived there save for the few hardy Djinn tribes who called it their home.
Fortunately, the name written on the votive was that of one of the closest settlements. Perched high up on a ledge of Mt. Gevulat, the tallest peak in the region, was the fortress of Dūr-Ēkal. More civilized than most, Dūr-Ēkal had a tempestuous but not necessarily hostile relationship with Tabīnat and Appāra. The current lady of Appāra was even said to be the daughter of Dūr-Ekal’s king.
They’d be allowed to enter the fortress city, but tracking down the prisoners was a more difficult task. If only S̆arrābī wasn’t hellbent on having me do it alone. Jasper understood his uncle’s reasoning, but without being able to check in with the troops’ commander to find out where they had been sent, it left him floundering in the dark.
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“Where do you think they’re being held,” Jasper asked Annatta.
His guard frowned. “It’s hard to say. If the soldiers were taken by the king of Dūr-Ēkal, then they’ll be in the palace dungeon. Honestly, if that’s the case, you might as well give up and ride home. Maybe your uncle could engineer a prison break, but I wouldn’t be willing to place any bets on it, and you definitely have no chance. The palace extends deep into the heart of the mountain and, of course, with their talents leaning towards earth magic, the terrain very much favors them.”
Jasper shrugged. “I’m assuming S̆arrābī isn’t sending me on a suicide mission, so let’s rule out the palace for the time being. Where else?”
“One of the smaller villages?” She offered hesitantly. “Most of their tribe lives in Dūr-Ēkal now, but there are a bunch of smaller settlements scattered around the general area. Maybe one of them snatched the scouts?”
“Either way,” she continued, “we’ll have to start in the city. I’m sure somebody will have seen something."
“Yeah,” Jasper agreed, “but will they talk about it?” And to that, she had no answer.
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It took another two days of riding before they reached the base of Mt. Gevulat. Aside from the ancient towers, Tabīnat had been thoroughly unimpressive. Dūr-Ekal was the opposite.
Two-thirds of the way up the mountain, an enormous ledge sprouted from its side like fungi on a fallen log. If its unnatural nature wasn’t made clear by its shape and size, the towering walls that seamlessly rose from its lip left no doubts as to its manmade origins. Bristling with towers, the city was completely cut off from the rest of the world save for a single bridge that spanned a deep chasm.
The far side of the bridge was guarded by a stout fortress, with the path to the bridge barred by two stone doors that rose almost a hundred feet in height. How many thousands of tons must those weigh? And why even make them that big?
The doors were shut though, and a small crowd of people were gathered at their base. The travelers were a mix of mountain Djinn and the Djinn Jasper was more used to. A few clusters of red-skinned merchants mingled with those at the gates, along with a small squad of royal soldiers that Jasper hoped would stay out of trouble. Don't need another group to rescue. Aside from them, there were a few other travelers who appeared to be independent groups much like themselves.
The guards eyed them with disinterest as they approached, utterly ignoring them. Closer in size to the normal Djinn than the Seraphs, their skin was marked by just a hint of grey. Strong, but not that strong, Jasper decided, guessing that he probably out-leveled them. It was a good feeling.
It wasn't until a few more groups of merchants arrived, that the guards finally sprung into action.
“Everyone line up,” a sergeant, decked out in a full suit of greenish-tinted armor thundered. “The toll to enter Dūr-Ēkal is fifty silver per head. Have it ready.”
They weren’t the first to go through; the soldiers got pride of place, followed by the merchants, but, eventually, their time came. Ihra had rummaged through her bag while they waited, counting out the necessary fees, and held out to the waiting guard.
He took a long look at them before sweeping up the coins in his hand. “For you, it will be a gold coin a head,” he grunted.
“What? Why?” Ihra began, clearly upset, but Annatta grabbed her arm, yanking it hard.
“Just pay it,” she hissed softly. “We don’t want any trouble.”
The guard smirked. “You should listen to your servant.” Ihra shot Jasper a questioning look, as the unspoken question passed between them. Do I pay it?
After a moment’s hesitation, he begrudgingly nodded, and she fished out a second set of coins, reluctantly handing them over.
The guard flashed them a cocky grin as he waved them forward to join the rest. “Don’t cause any problems,” he warned.
Leaving the group of visitors waiting in the fortress’ small courtyard, the guards took their places on either side of the colossal gates. The giant stone doors had no obvious chains attached to them, but their method of opening soon became clear. Several of the guards were mages. Working together, they slowly, painstakingly pulled the doors to the side. The fortress shook as the doors moved, stone sliding over stone with the thunder of a rockslide, but after five chained spells, the gates were open wide enough to allow the merchants’ carts through and, together, the visitors finally set foot onto the bridge.
Though the bridge only had a gentle arch, it was long enough that they couldn’t catch their first glimpse of the city until they reached its crest. Then, Dūr-Ēkal stretched out before them. The settlement reminded him of Tibetan cities. Tall walls overshadowed narrow, cramped corridors, with the buildings clustered so close together that yards were all but non-existent. It was a city built to block out the ravages of an unfriendly environment.
The unnatural ledge was split into two halves: the lower city, which occupied the bulk of the land, and the upper, where a second set of walls guarded a truly magnificent building - the titular Ēkal. It was there, outside of the palace, that Jasper spied the only open plot of land he could find in the entire city. The place felt claustrophobic.
A second set of towers watched over the far side of the bridge, supporting another side of doors, but they weren’t forced to wait a second time. These ones lay open.
The small crowd scattered as they entered the city, with the merchants heading down one of the branching roads while the squadron of soldiers turned toward the upper city. I wonder why they’re here?
Their own group paused, unsure where to go. “Anyone have any ideas where to start?” Jasper asked, as he watched the backs of their fellow travelers disappear into the cramped streets. To his surprise, it was the least likely suspect who responded.
“Give me a few minutes to meditate, and I can tell you,” Nēs̆u grunted.
“Oh?” Jasper quirked an eyebrow, confused. The generally silent warrior ignored him. Sliding off his horse, he led them over to a cramped corner near the gate and sitting down, closed his eyes.
“So what is he doing?” Jasper pursued the question again, this time directed at Tsia.
A half-amused, half-bitter smile passed her lips. “What I could never do - listening to Vāya.” Her expression cleared almost instantly, though. “But lightning is cooler.”