Her first impression was one of age. Something had always been in this place, whether its name was Mourkain or not. It was a city in the same way that Lahmia had been, grown over centuries by generations, spreading first behind the river and then over it. Within the palisade, a great stone gateway rose, blocking access to a wide bridge of thick wooden logs that led to a second, smaller gate. Beneath the bridge, the river crashed and snarled, and even at this distance, she could feel the spray. She looked up at the first gate and saw that its bulk was punctuated by hundreds of alcoves packed with skulls. Some of the skulls were brown with age, while others glistened white and clean. Each of the skulls seemed to be looking at her and she recalled her first sight of the place, under the influence of whatever had called her here, and felt a chill caress her spine.
Neferata knew that Mourkain, for all that it might seem to be a living thing, was in truth a city of death.
With a squeal of fibre on stone, the stone gates swung outwards. As they opened, Neferata saw a network of thick ropes connecting the hinges of the outer gate to the inner, and felt a brief burst of admiration. The outer gates could be controlled from within the city proper, as long as the ropes held. And if the ropes were cut, the stone gates would remain closed and the bridge sealed off.
She brought her horse to a halt and let the column move past her onto the bridge, until the stumping form of Razek came abreast of her horse. The dwarf’s powers of recuperation had proven far more impressive than she had anticipated. The bleeding had stopped a few days earlier and scabbing had begun, and the wounds smelled clean. Privately, she was impressed with the dwarf’s constitution. A human would have died from the wounds he had taken, but Razek was on his feet within a few days of the mauling, and had insisted on walking. She looked down at the dwarf. ‘I believe we have arrived,’ she said.
‘Aye. Impressive, isn’t it?’ Razek said, his tone indicating that he thought it was anything but.
‘Yes,’ Neferata said. She kept her horse to a trot, so that she could keep pace with the dwarf. If he noticed the courtesy, he gave no sign. Then, he could have viewed it as an insult. They moved across the bridge, and she glanced down, at the river. It was no small thing, and seemed far deeper than she was used to.
‘It goes down as deep as the mountain’s roots,’ Razek said. ‘Dark things swim in it.’
They passed beneath the interior gate, and Neferata’s nostrils flared. The smells of the city were intoxicating after so long in the wilderness. Thousands of warm, beating hearts greeted her, pumping the hot richness of human blood, and she sucked in a breath. ‘How many live here?’ she hissed. There were merchants stalls set up along the interior wall and the crumbling lean-tos of the kmut – the poor dregs of the city. Harsh accents barked offers to the teeming throngs and a wave of sound seemed to envelop her, as she was reminded of her youth and the days when she would sneak from her father’s palace and mingle among the commoners on the docks, watching the great ships slide in on the tide.
‘Who can say?’ Razek said. ‘You humans breed like lice.’ He grunted, looking around. ‘It’s been a long time, as you manlings calculate it, since I’ve been here. Since any of my people have been here.’
‘And with good reason, Thane Silverfoot,’ a harsh voice said. ‘But things are different now. You have our most humble assurances.’
Neferata turned. A broad-shouldered, broken-nosed man trotted towards them, thumbs hooked into a wide leather belt. He had a number of guards with him, dressed as Abhorash’s men, in heavy armour and ornate helms. They pushed through the crowd like sharks through a school of fish. Neferata inhaled his scent and repressed an instinctive curl of her lip. Like Vorag, there was a grave-mould whiff to the newcomer. It was a deep stink that Razek either didn’t notice or, perhaps, put down to a more human stench.
‘Mourkain extends its greetings and its sorrows on your loss, mighty thane,’ the man said, spreading his palm and bowing his head. ‘We shall scour the hills for the beasts who–’