Pushing herself upright, Lydia climbed to her feet and walked down the bank of the stream, wincing as rocks and the roots of trees bit into the soles of her feet. It didn’t take her long to reach the edge of what was not a forest but a lone copse of dying trees. Her eyes went to the setting sun, blazing bright and orange over a vast range of tall and jagged peaks. Yet the mountains paled in comparison to what lay in the other direction.
A vast fortress city rose grey and menacing out of the bare plains. At the center stood seven towers in a circle, the likes of which she’d never seen before.
Seven towers. Her pulse raced, the significance of that number in this place not lost on her. Seven gods.
Abandoning the stream, Lydia limped toward the city, grimacing as her foot sank into a soggy patch of earth. The smell of rot rose to assault her nose, and she jerked her foot free, wiping the black sludge off on the dry grass. Peering at the ground, she noticed the rotten earth ran like a stream toward the city, narrowing before fading into nothing. And it wasn’t the only stretch of it. There were others, reaching out like fingers toward the grey walls, the smell worse than that of a midden heap.
Giving her foot another wipe, she resumed her approach. The city was eerily quiet, and at first she thought it was empty, the ghost of a bygone era. But at the gate, the shadows shifted, and a soldier stepped away from the arch. His breastplate shone in the fading light, yet as she drew close to overcome her myopia she saw he was old and stooped. A strange sentry for such a vast city.
“Stop where you are, miss.”
Trader’s Tongue. Her heart skipped.
Two more old men stepped out, both of them extracting swords, which they leveled at her.
“Need to pass inspection, miss,” the first guard said. He tossed a torch in her direction. “Pick it up so we can see your eyes.”
Hands shaking, Lydia reached down and picked up the torch, holding it up so that her face was illuminated. The old man frowned, approaching slowly with his weapon in hand. When he was close enough that she could smell the foulness of his breath, he finally gave a grunt and nodded. “Get yourself inside, miss. Night is nearly upon us.”
Handing back the torch, Lydia passed through the thick walls, the flapping of banners that featured a striking scorpion the only sound.
Inside, the wide cobbled street ran straight toward the center of the city and its looming towers. Grey stone buildings rose on either side, but their windows were boarded over, wind that smelled of the sea tugging at the planks. A pair of cloaked women scuttled through the shadows, but before Lydia could say anything to them they entered a house and slammed the heavy door shut behind them. The sound of several bolts falling into place suggested that knocking would be futile.
Ignoring her aching body, Lydia increased her pace, searching the empty streets for an open door. For someone to acknowledge her. For some clue that would explain this strange city. But other than an intoxicated man missing a leg, who was meandering in circles around a fountain, she saw no one.
“Excuse me,” she called to the man, but he only snarled at the sky, “Fifteen years I fought and this is how you repay me?” He swung his crutch at the base of the fountain. “Curse the King! And curse the Six!”
Wary of his temper, Lydia took a step toward the crippled man, then yelped as the ground disappeared from under her foot, her elbows rapping against the metal frame of a sewer grate as she fell. Pain lanced through her ankle, and she sat back gingerly, trying to pull her leg free of the bars.
It was stuck.
“Blast,” Lydia muttered, tugging harder, but her ankle was already swelling. Shifting, she tried to pull it up in a different spot and from different angles, but it was useless. She needed help.
“Excuse me,” she called again to the man, but he didn’t seem to hear her, his crutch tapping against the cobbles as he circled the fountain again. “Could you help?” she called a little louder, squinting in an attempt to see him better.
His head slowly tracked in her direction, eventually landing on her. “’S after dark, miss. You shouldn’t be out of doors. Ain’t safe with…”