by Clayton Wood
And drew in a sharp breath.
The landscape dipped downward ahead, forming a small, barren valley. Beyond this, there was a massive stone wall, easily fifty feet high, extending to the left and right for miles. The wall had been built at the foot of a huge hill, forming a massive rectangle around it that extended all the way to the sparkling waters of the ocean far beyond.
And within that great wall stood a huge, sprawling city.
He stared in disbelief, rubbing his eyes, then looking again.
Wooden buildings stood at the base of the hill beyond the wall, surrounding it. On the hill itself, tall white stone buildings rose, their golden roofs gleaming in the sunlight. And on the very top of the hill stood a building larger than anything he’d ever seen. A veritable fortress of white stone, with domed golden roofs rising far above any other building in the city. The massive building seemed to have been hewn from the stone of the hill itself, a great sculpture rising toward the heavens.
A city of gold and white standing against a great blue sea.
“Hey!” a voice shouted.
The man flinched, turning toward the voice. It’d come from the bridge to his right; he spotted a group of men clad in a thick brown leather uniforms standing atop it. Carrying…swords.
“Afternoon,” one of them greeted, turning to the other men. “Drop the ladder,” he ordered. The other men lifted a long wooden ladder from the top of the bridge. It had hooks on one end; the men lowered the ladder, which was just tall enough to reach the dirt. The hooks hooked the ladder to the edge of the bridge. “Come on up,” the man prompted.
“Uh…”
“Come on,” the man urged. “We’re not going to hurt you. Trust me, we’re the friendliest sight you’ll see in this place.”
He hesitated, then walked up to the ladder, climbing up with some difficulty. The man he’d been talking to lent a hand when he reached the top, pulling him onto the bridge. The guy was at least six-and-a-half feet tall, with arms as big as tree trunks. Scars crisscrossed his leathery face, and the sun shone off his bald, shiny head.
“My name’s Alasar,” he greeted. “And you are?”
“Uh, Taylor.”
“Good to meet you Taylor,” Alasar replied. He glanced down at Taylor’s sneakers. “Came through the Gate, eh?”
“The what?”
“Stone arch with blackness that sucks you in,” Alasar clarified. Taylor nodded.
“I think so.”
“Another Original,” Alasar mused. He eyed Taylor for a long moment. “You look familiar.”
Taylor blinked.
“I do?”
“Yeah,” Alasar replied. “Saw a kid come through the Gate a few months back. Never forgot his face,” he added with a smirk. “He’s the reason I got my shoulders yanked outta their sockets.”
Taylor just stared at the man.
“Name was Hunter,” Alasar continued. “You know him?”
Taylor’s heart skipped a beat, a chill running down his spine.
“I do,” he managed to reply.
“So does everyone else,” Alasar said, putting a hand around Taylor’s shoulders and guiding him toward the walled city in the distance. “Bit of a household name after the great war.”
“Do you…know where he is?” Taylor asked.
“Nope,” Alasar answered. “But I can find someone who does. Come on,” he added, gesturing toward the city. Taylor walked alongside the man, making his way toward the city in the distance. The bridge eventually sloped downward to meet the ground a short distance before the great wall, and Alasar continued beyond the bridge, walking toward a huge stone gate in the distance. Two guards stood before the gate, and Alasar walked up to greet them.
“Got an Original,” he stated, gesturing at Taylor. “Came through the Gate just now.”
The guards stared at Taylor, looking him over. Then one of them turned to the wall, looking up and waving one arm.
The gate lifted upward slowly, revealing a large tunnel beyond. Alasar led Taylor into this tunnel, which was lined with more guards.
“Normally we’d have you meet with customs first,” Alasar stated, bringing Taylor to a second stone gate at the other end of the tunnel. This too began to rise, just as the one behind them closed. “But we’re a little short-staffed at the moment.”
The second gate opened all the way, revealing a long street ahead, tall stone walls rising up on either side. Alasar stepped through the gate, as did Taylor. The burly man clapped Taylor on the back, grinning down at him, then spreading his arms out wide at the city before them.
“Welcome to the kingdom of Tykus,” he declared. “And welcome home.”
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About the Author
Clayton Taylor Wood is the self-published author of the Runic series and the Fate of Legends series. He's been a computer programmer, graphics designer, martial-arts instructor, and now works in the medical field. He has a wife and two wonderful sons...and is busy writing epic fantasy series for each of them.
Writing was always Clayton's passion, but it wasn't until the birth of his first son that he found the inspiration necessary to finish his first book. Five years later, he published Runic Awakening, the first entry in the Runic Series. Since then, he’s written several fantasy series…and he doesn't plan on stopping anytime soon!
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