by Garon Whited
Bronze took us out the main doors of the throne room, around the courtyard, and down the throat of the Kingsway. We dropped Heydyl off at the Temple of Shadow.
“Where will you go now?” he asked.
“To and fro upon the face of the world until my business is concluded.”
“So, ‘Wherever I want, but you shouldn’t ask’?”
“You’re practicing to be a Banner, aren’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“No, but you probably need to work on your tact. I know I do.”
“I’ll mention it to my teachers.”
“Good lad.”
Bronze reared, turned, and we were off.
The canals running north along the eastern border of the Eastrange—I need to get someone to re-name the mountains. Just because the old kingdom stopped at them, they named them “Eastrange.” Looking westward at them, it’s a silly name.
Sorry. So, we headed up the central divider between the canals on our way to Plainsport, and on north even more to the tunnel through to Stadius.
Yes, we could have taken a gate. It would have been much quicker. But Bronze loves to run.
And so we did. Aside from a brief break for quasi-human biology—a daytime hazard—Bronze ran from Karvalen to the Stadius tunnel like an express bullet train. She loved it, every chiming hoofbeat of it. And, if I’m honest, so did I.
The tunnel was a bit more problematic. It was easily large enough, of course, since it had a single canal and a wagon-sized road on either side, but it didn’t have a Bronze-only lane. We slowed to something resembling suburban speeds while I cast a couple of light spells, mostly to warn people we were coming. Bronze stuck to the outside lane and was very careful not to step on anyone.
Stadius, much like Karvalen, is a mountain city. Which is to say it’s built out of mountain. However, where Karvalen is a city surrounding a peak, Stadius is almost the reverse. Start with a valley between three peaks. Squeeze the mountains a bit to make the valley more of a closed-in, extremely deep hole, roughly cone-shaped. Now hollow out the walls for places to live and work. Build terraces and steps into the surface. Level out the bottom of the hole to make a space for open-air arenas for the games. Up over the rim of the city, lay down a road to the west, for those who would venture to and from the more populated regions of the kingdom. Have tunnels into the mountains for those creatures of the Duchy of Vathula who savor violence. Oh, and add a tunnel with a center canal for convenient traffic to and from the city of Karvalen and the People of the Plains.
There. A city of stone, like a circular maw in the earth, with blood running red in the hungry gutters.
Well… metaphorically. Arriving in Stadius, I saw no gutters of blood. The streets, both aboveground and below, were clean and wide. The air was fresh, bearing only the usual odors of a city, most of which are best left to the imagination. Winter’s chill was everywhere, but broke belowground to a tolerable coolness. I saw no evidence of rampant bloodshed. Indeed, I noted a surprising level of civility and order among the population.
It says something when a frail old woman can sit behind a counter and sell meat to a heavily-armed orku three times her size and haggle over the price. I’m sure he got away with a good deal, possibly even a fair one, but the usual method of haggling for orku is to take whatever they want, with an option to kill the other person for fun or food.
What has Bob been doing up here?
Firebrand?
Yo.
How do we get to the capitol building? Or palace. Or whatever it’s called where they keep the elf in charge.
I’m not sure, it confessed. I usually don’t go anywhere besides the main arena. I can guide you from there.
Fair enough. Ninth circle down of the city, I’m guessing?
Yep. Hey!
What?
How did you know the city has nine surface levels?
Lucky guess.
Bronze walked us through the crowded undercity and out to the surface streets. They felt much less claustrophobic and I could see where we were in relation to most of the rest of the city. We emerged from the tunnel on seventh level down and got our bearings. We wound farther down, following the curve of the streets, occasionally taking a switchback to descend a level. Most of the streets were covered like porticos, open on one side. The view over the city was framed by pillars and arches supporting a roof to keep the rain and snow off the road and out of the shops. Most of the residential doorways were higher up or deep belowground. There were still a few residences at this level, but we passed mostly business. There were also a few small temples.
Sparky has representation in Stadius. There’s a small temple to her. How they manage without a fire-witch—that is, without a descendant of the avatar who originated the lineage of fire-witches—I’m not sure. Can lesser priestesses be upgraded to fire-witch? Or is there a special ceremony to promote them to higher rank within their clergy? Or do they have different rules for minor chapels instead of full-on temples?
I didn’t go in, so I don’t know. It’s not my church, not my clergy, and not my problem.
Nobody tried to rob us, pick a pocket, or even ask my business. People gave way before us, moving to let us pass as we came upon them. Most of them didn’t recognize me—a few did, and their reactions were much more pronounced. My guess is the crowd gave way before an enormous horse.
The arena, as Firebrand said, was hard to miss. There were four open-air arenas, three of which were roughly circular. One was a longer, narrower thing, for the various forms of racing—chariots, horses, you name it. Two smaller arenas were for more intimate venues—single combats between champions, that sort of thing. But the main arena was enormous. It was almost cylindrical, but the interior was a steep-sided cone. It extended maybe ten floors above ground level while it also ran about that far down into the rock. At the bottom of this gigantic well was the arena floor, lined with doors and covered in sand. The walls were ringed about with seats, affording excellent views for the spectators. It was wide enough to hold a full-scale cavalry skirmish or a small naval engagement. Add some protective spells around the perimeter and you could include slingers and archers. It even had masts and sails at the top, for screening the sunlight and the weather.
“I am impressed,” I told Firebrand.
You laid out the basics, Firebrand told me. Bob said the major layout formed all by itself.
“Memories of the Colosseum in Rome, probably, for most of them. The center one looks kind of like it on the outside.”
Whatever, it’s big, it’s popular, and it’s dragging people in from all over who want to kill other people. I’m not sure, Boss, but I think this is doing more for your desire for peace than anything else.
“Oh? What about roads?”
They make it easier to have a war. Convenient for transporting hostile people to other people.
“I suppose the canals are the same?”
Yep.
“You’re not making me feel better about all my efforts.”
Just callin’ it as I see it, Boss. At least you can be proud of this. It’s also cut down on crime.
“Has it? By burning alive the criminals?”
No, just the ones trying to get out of their sentences.
“And the survivors go home with considerably more in the way of combat skills,” I muttered. “I’m not sure it’s an improvement.”
They also go home with more discipline, Firebrand consoled. They’re not just dumped in the arena. They’re trained in other ways.
“Hmm.” I thought about it while Bronze followed Firebrand’s directions away from the main arena. “I’m still not sure I like it.”
It works.
“That’s why I’m not arguing about it.”
Oh? I thought you weren’t arguing because you didn’t want to be involved.
“Shut up.”
Firebrand shut up, or mostly. I heard it laughing.
Bob was not in the palace of Stadius
when we arrived. Nevertheless, the human on door duty recognized I was not someone to brush off. He rang for help and an elf—not a First Elf, but a hybrid elf—took charge.
I was amused to find no one attempted to stable Bronze. She was treated as an honored guest, not as a horse. I don’t often see anyone salute a horse. Bronze was equally amused, but also careful of the furniture. We were shown to a waiting room and provided with two trays of refreshments—one of organic delicacies, the other of highly-flammable ones. It’s hard to say which one held more actual calories.
Bronze can eat daintily. She opens her mouth, her tongue comes out, wraps around something, and pulls it back. Has she always been able to do that and simply never needed to? Or did she decide she needed to be able to do it? I get the feeling she’s learning more about her own abilities as time goes by. It probably ought to bother me—although it doesn’t—that her tongue reminds me quite a bit of mine.
Bob arrived before we finished our snacks. I want to say he hurried into the room, but he didn’t give that impression. He entered smoothly and gracefully, like mist filling a meadow, only faster. He was swift, rather than hurried. Water flowing like glass over the edge of the precipice could be no quicker and would be less smooth.
I always forget just how effortlessly these elves make everything look. I swear, if one of them was hit in the face with a pie, it would be art, not comedy. It would set my teeth on edge if my teeth could still do that.
“Dread Lord,” he greeted me, and bowed with a flourish. A graceful flourish. It reminded me of dew-heavy flowers nodding in a gentle breeze, the clumsy, awkward things. The white shirt, the black vest, the long fall of his hair—everything was perfect. Photographers would have an easy time with elf models. No need for a thousand shots. Just take one picture and call it a day, because everything will be in its proper place.
I don’t know if it’s hate or envy, but it may be one reason nobody likes them.
“It’s been a while, Bob. I’m pleased to see you again,” I lied. “I trust all is well?”
“Indeed, Dread Lord,” he agreed, closing the door behind himself and moving to the seat across from me. “May I also greet the noble steed and say I am honored by your joint presence?”
“Of course.” Bronze also nodded. He’s a smooth talker as well as the floating embodiment of grace.
“The world continues unchanged,” he reported. “My agents and informants across the length and breadth of the kingdom are extensive, and whispers now come to me from every edge of the world. There have been some issues requiring subtle guidance—a few nobles not content with Her Majesty’s rule, or with the dynasty of the Demon King—but these have been handled in a fashion to convince others of your watchful, wrathful attention.”
“Very good. It sounds as though you have the kingdom well in hand.”
“In large measure, Dread Lord. However…”
“However. Yes. Always open with the good news. Go on.”
“There is another group acting on your behalf.”
“You mentioned something about that.”
“I am charged with the manipulation of a kingdom for its overall welfare. There exists a group within the kingdom—within the Palace, I believe—which feels it has this responsibility. I am certain the Queen has established her own network of spies and other agents.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“I further suspect there is a third organization whose members believe they have the right to interfere in the welfare of the kingdom, as well. I believe it also to be centered in the Palace, but the one who moves it is as yet unknown to me. This occasionally causes problems as we sometimes work at cross purposes.”
“Why do you think there are multiple versions of the—that is, multiple organizations?”
“My own agents and organization are based on the venality of humans. They will do almost anything for money. Those who will not can often be persuaded by those who will. The few who remain are often amenable to more direct persuasion. With these tools in hand, I wield them with precision and care to cut the corrupt flesh from the living body.
“Other individuals, however, utilize mostly other methods of persuasion. Possibly appeals to the better nature of mankind, if such a thing exists, or a sense of loyalty to the Crown. It is possible these groups are organized independently and in ignorance of one another by the Queen and by your chosen instrument in your Church, the Lord Beltar. This is my suspicion.”
“Three groups, each striving to keep the kingdom running smoothly, completely independent of each other, and sometimes disagreeing on what the best thing for the kingdom truly is,” I mused. “Yes, I can see how this could be tricky. Not too tricky or complicated for you, though. I’m sure it only adds a bit of interest to the game.”
“Indeed,” Bob agreed, smoothly. “It does leave me with the question of how you wish me to deal with them. Commissioned as I am by the King, my efforts take precedence over any others. However, if they also have your blessing, as it were, I cannot simply have them all put to the knife to smooth the way.”
“Good point. Have you made any progress in infiltrating their workings? I know you’ve tried.”
“I have agents making attempts even as we speak. It is an ongoing process, but an unsuccessful one to date.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage it eventually. Time is on your side.”
“Indeed.”
“Speaking of time and the related topic of immortals, how go the new elves?”
“Splendidly. They are interesting subjects for study, as well. It takes quite some time to produce something worthy of the name—longer than we have had so far—but I have my hopes for these. Allow me another century and the first of them may be ready to be called an elf.”
“I’ll make a note of it. And how are we doing on the research into the Spire of the Sun?”
“Alas, Dread Lord, I have no good news,” he admitted, pressing his open hand over the place humans keep their hearts. “Mercenaries, wizards, magicians, even some Heroes have been dispatched to examine the Dragonspine Range in various locations.”
“Wait a second. Do you know a Hero named Sedrick?”
“Indeed, Dread Lord. He is one of the few who survived.”
“Survived?” I echoed. “What happened?”
“Few have lived to tell of their journey. I have sent many, never mentioning the Spire, of course, only an interest in the mountains. Knowing of the danger and difficulties in reaching the Range, most prepared well for their journeys. Those who arrived at the edge of the Burning Desert reported via various means before attempting the crossing to the foot of the Dragonspine Range. The one you mention, Sedrick, did not enter the Burning Desert, but spoke much of those who lived near it. A most clever man.”
“You don’t get live long as a Hero without brains.”
“Indeed. Magical communications become difficult in that desert, so further reports from all other agents were impossible. One large party was sent. Communicating by more mundane means—lanterns, flags, and messengers—they divided into groups, extending themselves bit by bit into the region. The ones who ventured deepest into the Burning Desert supposedly reached the rocks of the mountains themselves before dying. Those who observed them at a distance died shortly thereafter. And the group observing them, having gone even less distance into the Burning Desert, died after they did. The ones who were farthest from the mountains turned and left, thus we have these details, but there are no survivors from the expedition.”
“Why not? What killed them?”
“I do not know, Dread Lord, but I know how it looks. If you recall an occasion when you laid a terrible curse on all those who opposed you, that day before the eastern gate of Vathula? Thousands died in slow agony. Those who returned from the Burning Desert to report on their expedition died in similar manner. Aside from this, I have learned nothing of the Spire or its environs.”
“I was only concerned about the magical interference,” I admitte
d. “It didn’t occur to me the region might be innately hostile to life.”
“It appears to be not only hostile, but ruinous.”
I believed him, partly because I don’t think he’s willing to lie to me, but mostly because I found it plausible. If there’s a small ball of fusion going on every day, rolling along the inside of the Firmament and passing roughly over the Mountains of the Sun (a.k.a. Dragonspine Range, et al.), then the mountains are probably heavily irradiated, along with a strip of desert. If that’s the case, the radiation will be less at night, but long-term exposure to even ionizing radiation can cause secondary radiation in exposed elements.
I wonder, if I look very closely, can I see the desert glowing in the dark? Or will I need a Geiger counter?
“Yeah, okay. You’re off the hook on that. I’ve got a god looking into it. In other news, I’ve been looking into the idea of a journey to the moon.”
Bob’s face did a wonderful locked-into-neutral thing when I mentioned having my altar ego examine the Dragonspine Range. Sadly, this also meant I didn’t get a good read on his expression when I told him about the space race.
“I am pleased at any efforts you may make on our behalf, Dread Lord. May I ask the details?”
So I told him about the idea of a mini-firmament and a void-sailing vessel.
“I haven’t worked out the actual propulsion, but the first thing was to figure out a way to keep the ship and its occupants from being dissolved in the void. It’s a work in progress, obviously, but I think I’m ahead of schedule, considering the rate at which the sun is wobbling.”
“Indeed, Dread Lord. I look forward to seeing the ship when it is completed.”
“It might never be,” I warned. “It’s only one possibility. Besides, if I find a way to wake Rendu, it may be unnecessary.”
“Of course, Dread Lord.”
“All right, what else do you have for me? Anything?”
“Are you aware of the recent news regarding the worship of the Lord of Light?”
“Possibly, but go on.”