Lost City

by Jeffrey Poole

  “Do you remember that decorative golden border on the main door?” Tristofer asked him. “I think that’s their light source. It’s probably part of their technology. Look around! That gold chain is everywhere. That’s why we can see the buildings. It’s because they are all laced with that border. Quite ingenious, if you ask me.”

  “Is it me or is it getting brighter in here?” Athos asked, looking up at the overhead ceiling then back at the city. He had only been able to make out several of the streets when they first beheld the city, but now he was easily able to see that the city had three or four dozen streets and at least several dozen buildings per street. Had it always been like that?

  “It’s your imagination,” his brother told him as he steered Lukas around another broken paver.

  “No, he’s right,” Breslin announced. “Look. I can see the extent of the damage Nar has undergone. Looks like the eastern part of the city was hit hardest. Tristofer, any idea what’s going on with the light?”

  Tristofer shook his head and shrugged.

  Lukas tugged on his father’s sleeve and pointed at the ground. “Father, look! More footprints!”

  Venk, Athos, and Breslin all squatted down to inspect the damaged street. Several sets of tracks were visible in the heavy dust, heading in every direction, approaching every structure. The closest was a large two story building that had housed two different tenants. None of the footsteps entered either shop.

  Breslin walked up to the larger shop’s open door and leaned in. He waved his torch around the room.

  “I see at least three circular ovens. Broken crockery is everywhere.” Breslin bent to retrieve a palm-sized piece of pottery. “This has a gold pattern running through it, too. What it’s trying to depict, I cannot say. Any ideas what this shop might have been used for?”

  “A bakery?” Venk suggested as he looked into the adjoining second shop. This one was much smaller than its neighbor, having a simple corner work table and a few shelves.

  Venk knelt on the hard stone floor and picked up a tiny chisel. A closer examination revealed a hammer, a second chisel, a pair of tweezers, and something that had a hook on one end and a pick on the other.

  Brushing aside some of the dust on the floor revealed a glint of color coming from under the primary workspace. It was a tiny curl of gold, generating the tiniest bit of light. With his back protesting loudly, Venk straightened and inspected the tiny shaving of gold. Where had it come from? How long had it been on the floor? Why was it… The curl stopped glowing. Venk’s eyes narrowed. Why had the gold shaving gone dark?

  Ignoring the stab of pain his back was sending him, Venk knelt back on the ground and held the curl down low. It began to glow again. Eagerly brushing aside several inches of dirt and dust revealed a number of other pieces of gold, all discarded as though they were the wood shavings. All the gold pieces glowed until Venk straightened back up.

  Athos poked his head in the room. “What do you have there?” He leaned over Venk’s hand and eyed the gold shavings. “Not much there, if you ask me. Still, it’s a good start.”

  “Forget the gold for a moment,” Venk told his brother. “It’ll glow if I hold it down to the floor. It stops once I move it away. Bizarre, huh?”

  “It must be part of the gold border found on all the buildings.”

  Venk nodded in agreement. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

  He gave the shavings to Tristofer and explained what he had learned about its behavior. The scholar nodded in appreciation and dropped the gold shavings into a vial which promptly disappeared into his jacket.

  “From the looks of this one,” Venk told the others as he came out of the smaller shop, “I’d say that they vacated the premises very quickly. I found tools and several gold ingots sitting in a small room at the back of the building. I doubt they would have left the gold willingly.”

  “Correlates with the first,” Breslin reported. “Broken pottery everywhere. There were a few intact pots sitting on shelves and even a large ceramic bin in the back which I presume held flour. Wait. You found gold? I wouldn’t think they would have left that behind.”

  Venk grunted. “Right. I just said that. Why would they leave the gold?”

  Breslin shook his head. He pointed at the ground. “No, I mean, why would these people have left the gold? According to the tracks, they didn’t even bother going in to this building. What were they searching for?”

  “Let’s find a building in which they did go into,” Athos suggested. “Maybe then we’ll figure out what they were doing.”

  Venk held up a hand.

  “Wait a moment. Son, come here. Let me see the mark.”

  Lukas approached and lifted his shirt. The mark was still there.

  “Thanks, just checking.”

  “What’d you do that for?” Athos asked, curious.

  “Clearly we have to do something now that we’re here,” Venk explained. “If not, then the mark would have disappeared as soon as we stepped foot into Nar. Now that we’re here, and the mark is still there, we know our quest isn’t done.”

  “Over here!” Breslin called out from up front. He was pointing to a large, single story structure that was easily twice as large as the first building they entered. “I found a building that they had entered.”

  Tristofer nodded. “Let me guess. You’re going to find a forge in there.”

  Breslin ducked through the open door and then reappeared moments later. He nodded.

  “Aye, there is. How’d you know that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” the scholar asked. “It’s a blacksmith shop. I’m willing to wager every blacksmith here in Nar has been thoroughly searched.”

  Understanding, Breslin tapped his cuirass.

  “Armor.”

  Tristofer nodded. “Exactly. Nar is known for their armor. It’s coveted by everyone and fetches a high price whenever a piece is put up for sale. The intruders, as I’ll start calling them, obviously value armor more than gold. Why else would they leave those ingots behind?”

  “They left them behind because they didn’t know they were there,” Athos argued. “I think if they would have found them then they would have taken them.”

  Tristofer shrugged. “Possibly. But the fact that they didn’t even bother suggests they thought it wasn’t worth their time and effort.”

  Unwilling to argue the point any further, Athos grunted and returned to his examination of the neighboring buildings. Catching sight of a structure across the street that had a set of tracks leading into it, Athos nudged Breslin and pointed it out. A quick glance at the surrounding shops revealed one other structure had also been visited by the intruders.

  Splitting into two teams, as they had two torches between them, Athos and Breslin explored the second shop while Venk, Lukas, and Tristofer took the third. Both teams reported the same thing: a blacksmith had set up their foundry there. As with the first, the two blacksmith shops had been picked clean.

  Breslin’s eyes were drawn down to the ground. Athos approached on his right while Venk approached on his left. They, too, looked down. Several fresh sets of tracks, as though they had been made just yesterday, were seen heading off into the city.

  “Has anyone been walking around out here?”

  There was a chorus of ‘no’s. Breslin motioned for everyone to huddle close.

  “Those tracks are fresh. I’d say no more than a couple of days old. Not only is it safe to say that someone has been pillaging Nar of its treasures, but also whoever is responsible appears to have returned recently. We must be on our guard regardless of whether or not that person is still lurking about. Master Venk, keep Lukas close. Tristofer, stay close to Athos. If whoever made those marks happens to still be here, I’d just as soon not let them know we’re here, too.”

  “You’re really worried about that?” Athos demanded.

  Breslin frowned. “And you aren’t?”

  Athos pointed back towards the main entrance. “At this point I’d
say trying to sneak around is pointless. If there’s someone here, they’re going to know we’re here, too. Not only did we create quite a ruckus just to gain entry, we…”

  “We don’t know if that could have been heard in here,” Breslin argued.

  “There’s a layer of dust in there that clearly shows footprints,” Athos continued, “as we’re following a set right now.”

  “Maybe they won’t know who made the tracks?” Venk suggested.

  “And finally, the city is becoming brighter by the hour. Look around! Give it an hour or so and we won’t need the torches.”

  “I’ve noticed that.” Breslin turned to face the scholar. “The longer we’re here the brighter it’s getting.”

  “I believe the city is reacting to our presence,” Tristofer hypothesized. “How remarkable!”

  “There is a chance that someone else may be lurking about,” Breslin conceded to Athos. “However, we can’t worry about that now. We’re here for a reason and we need to find out what that reason is. For now, we investigate. Everyone ready? Good. Let’s see where these tracks lead.”

  Breslin pulled Mythryd from his back and silently followed the fresh footprints through the city. Twisting and turning, the prints lead them down wide, worn, paved streets as well as narrow, dark alleys running between large buildings. Moving further west through the city, they noticed that the damage to the buildings here was much less severe. A few streets showed some slight damage, but otherwise the western section of the city was damage-free. Only one in five buildings showed any signs of damage and of the structures that were, only a few large cracks could be seen running up the walls.

  “How could an earthquake destroy one half of a city without harming the other?” Breslin wondered aloud as they all stopped to rest.

  They were standing in a small plaza with vacant shops all around them. Doors hung open. Counters were strewn with various items necessary for that shop’s business. Tracks had approached these shops, too, but hadn’t entered any. Most of the tracks were almost filled back in, suggesting that whoever had made them did so many years ago. The tracks they were presently following were still fresh, but none of the others were.

  Resuming their trek through the somber city, the footprints finally dead-ended at another of the city’s sealed doors, only this one wasn’t sealed shut. The stone door was just barely ajar and moments later they saw why: an old, dented shield had been jammed between the door and its frame.

  “Get a load of that,” Athos commented as he squatted down next to the shield. He looked at the others. “I could pull it out and let the door close. Then they’ll never make it back in here.”

  Breslin was silent as he considered.

  “Better not. To do so would announce our presence.”

  “You don’t think the rising levels of light in there have done that for us?”

  “Alright, point taken,” Breslin grumbled. He tapped the door and nodded towards the other side. “Where do you think that goes?”

  “To another hidden entrance,” Tristofer answered. “Whether on the same mountain or a different one remains to be seen. But I’ll bet Bykram lies in that direction.”

  “So we found where the intruder has been entering the city. Thanks to the amount of dust on the streets we should be able to tell where he went on his last trip here.”

  Athos groaned. “You mean –”

  Breslin nodded. “Right. Back to where we started out from. I want to see where these tracks go.”

  Retracing their steps back through the city, Breslin and the others kept a close eye on the fresh tracks in the thick dust. Breslin looked behind them to see the numerous tracks now leading towards the propped open gate and then back again and could only hope that whoever had just recently visited wouldn’t be back for a while. The last thing he needed to worry about was someone getting the drop on them that may or may not possess Narian tools and weapons.

  The set of tracks they were following veered to the right so that it ran directly in front of a row of buildings. More shops, Breslin guessed. He surmised that the intruder was studying the buildings and was looking for more blacksmiths. It wasn’t until they had ventured further east, past the point of their earlier arrival, when the footprints stopped in front of a non-descript structure, approached a window, then headed straight towards the door. Breslin and Athos both stuck their heads through the door long enough to verify that this building once housed a blacksmith.

  They could see footprints everywhere as the intruder searched every square inch of the structure. Exiting the ancient workshop, Breslin pointed east and trudged off as they followed the prints to another blacksmith. And another. And another.

  “Do you get the impression that this person is getting desperate?” Breslin suddenly asked, breaking the monotony of the stifling silence.

  “I do,” Venk agreed. “Think he’s running out of armor?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind,” Breslin admitted.

  “How does someone go about selling a piece of Narian armor?” Venk inquired. He looked over his shoulder at Tristofer, who was walking side-by-side with his brother. “How would you do it, Tristofer?”

  “I’d contact someone who is familiar with marketing, uh, such goods without attracting attention.”

  “Have you ever heard of someone selling Narian armor?”

  Tristofer nodded. “Every so often a piece changes ownership. Nothing to warrant any attention.”

  “What about hearing of a single person selling multiple pieces of armor at different periods of time?” Venk asked.

  Tristofer turned to regard his companion outfitted in red leather armor. He pulled out a rag, polished his spectacles, and put his glasses back on his nose while simultaneously stuffing the rag back into a pocket.

  “An interesting question. I am reminded of a time, a number of years ago, when I still lived in Bykram. Master Rohath, knowing my area of study, contacted me nearly a decade after I had last seen him and said that one of his students had come to class wearing a set of Narian gauntlets. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have thought much of this, and Master Rohath agreed, but the following year a different student came with a different piece of armor. A single greave, if memory serves, worn on his left leg. Just the one, mind you.

  “Master Rohath’s curiosity had been piqued, so when the next year a third student had appeared, wearing a guardbrace over his right shoulder, he finally pulled the pupil aside and asked him about the armor as clearly it was being worn as a symbol of status. ‘My father bought it for me’ the underling had told him. He looked up the two former pupils of his and was given the same answer. Knowing my penchant for any information on Nar, no matter how obscure, he tracked down one of the pupil’s fathers and asked where he had purchased it as he knew of one other pupil, me, that would love to have a piece. ‘A friend of a friend’ is what he was told. When he contacted me and told me this I dismissed it as fanciful coincidence. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “How long ago was that?” Venk asked.

  Tristofer thought back to the days after he had been exiled from his home city.

  “At least fifty years, maybe sixty.”

  Athos looked down at the ground at the set of prints that had almost been covered back up by more dust.

  “Those tracks could be fifty years old.”

  Venk held up a hand.

  “I’m curious. Your field of study is Nar, right?”

  Tristofer nodded.

  “An old master of yours contacts you out of the blue and informs you that he had come across three different pieces of Narian armor in as many years. This doesn’t spark your interest?”

  “It did,” Tristofer admitted, “but I had just been banished and contact with one in exile was forbidden. Master Rohath risked his career and reputation just to contact me. Even so, I felt betrayed, and I had no desire to return to the city, not that I even could.”

  “Knowing now that Nar lies so close to Bykram, do you think the events a
re related?” Without waiting for the scholar’s response, Breslin continued. “I think it’s perfectly clear. Someone has been selling armor at Bykram and has been doing it for quite some time.”

  “And they’ve managed to avoid suspicion,” Athos added.

  “Why the fresh tracks then?” Venk wondered.

  “They’ve run out,” Lukas suggested.

  Venk and Breslin both jumped. They had forgotten that the usually quiet and reserved underling was standing nearby.

  Breslin looked over at the boy standing next to Tristofer. “You think they’ve run out of armor to sell, is that it, Master Lukas?”

  Lukas nodded.

  Venk looked back at the recently ransacked foundry and was silent for a few minutes. Athos approached and elbowed his brother in the ribs.

  “What’s bothering you?”

  “I can understand why the intruders were searching for armor,” Venk slowly began as he continued to work out what was bothering him, “but that forge had been thoroughly searched, from top to bottom. Armor isn’t that small. A cursory glance should be all that’s needed in order to determine if any pieces are present.”

  Intrigued, Breslin looked back at the foundry, too.

  “What are you thinking, Master Venk? They were looking for something else?”

  “Aye. And clearly they thought it could only be found where there are forges. I think they were looking for clues.”

  Understanding, Breslin nodded, followed closely by Athos. Bewildered, Tristofer looked at the other three adults before snapping his fingers in front of their faces.

  “Pretend I don’t know much about metallurgy, or common blacksmithing practices. What were they looking for?”

  Breslin turned to the scholar and nodded. “That’s precisely what they were looking for.”

  Tristofer’s spectacles slid down the length of his nose and teetered precariously. “What? What were they looking for?”

  “Clues! They want to know how the Narians made their armor. Think about it! If the secrets the Narian’s employed were ever discovered then other pieces of armor could be replicated and then passed off as authentic Narian artifacts. They’d make a fortune!”