"I see it."
What he didn't count on when he turned the corner was that it was indeed the end. It opened to the sky, a daylit sky, and that the mouth of the tube was covered by a metal grate. The Aeradalla had noticed the tube, and had barred it off, probably to keep children from getting too curious. The metal grate was thick, heavy, and the bars were too close together for him to wriggle through them.
"Daytime? Did I sleep that long?" Sarraya said in confusion.
"Don't ask me, you know I can't keep time like this," he told her. "Can you get that out of the way?"
"Sure, hold on," she told him confidently. She flitted up to it and put her hand on one of the bars, and it began to rust away at an astounding rate. In seconds, little miniature rivulets of rust dust were drifting down past his paws, sliding down into the unfathomable darkness of the lava tube. In mere moments, two of the bars were totally rusted away, and that gave him enough room to squirm through it and into the open. It wasn't easy, for it was a tight fit and he had no traction on the glassy surface of the lava tube. But he managed to wriggle through, and put his paws down on a flat, level surface, a surface not of black basalt, but of mortared cobblestones.
Cobblestones? Why cobblestones? That made little sense.
They had come up out of the tube between two tall buildings, covered with a strange wattle-like substance, like dried mud. They were the color of sand, and they towered over him on both sides of what looked to be a small alley between them.
He padded along the alleyway with sarraya on his back absently, curious as to why a race of winged beings would waste time paving over black stone for cobblestones. Maybe to cover the black stone, which must heat up something fierce in the daytime sun. That was a possibility.
He stepped out from between the buildings, and stopped dead in his tracks.
The top of the rock spire was a city.
Not just a city built atop the spire, but extending out past its boundaries. From his vantage point, he could see many tiers with buildings built atop them, gradually going down from the center. He had come out at the edge of one of those tiers, and he looked down on the rest of the city in awe. It extended for longspans, far beyond the radius of the spire, and from the look of it, nearly out to the boundary of the cloud itself.
Amazing! That barrier had to be the beginning of a vast platform, upon which the entirety of the city rested! The Rock Spire was like the neck of a champagne glass!
He was absolutely stunned, and from the silence, so was Sarraya. They looked down on the lower tiers with awe, total awe, unable to believe that anything like this rested above the concealing cloud.
"Unbelievable," Sarraya finally whispered. "It's unbelievable!"
Tarrin looked around, at the city itself. Its architecture was alien to him, full of graceful curves and elegant slopes. There were very few right angles, and none of the buildings seemed to have a door at ground level. They all had a tiered construction like the city itself, with a smaller tier resting upon a wider base, which served as the landing platform and entrance into the buildings. It was upon those ledges that the Aeradalla themselves took off and alighted, and the sky was peppered with individual Aeradalla as they flew here and there on their daily business, much as a human city dweller would walk along the streets.
Looking out at the incredible city, he now understood the extents that could be reached with magic. The place screamed of it, radiated it like heat, but it was not active magic. The magic that had created this floating city was ancient itself, and it had seeped into the stone of the city's bowl and the Rock Spire itself, making it strong enough to support its own weight. It was certain to him that without magic, this place could not be. The stone could never survive the stress of such weight upon it without any support, not without magical reinforcement. The Conduit running through the heart of the Spire probably sustained the ancient magic that had created this place, since the proximity of such a power would prevent the magic that made this place work from fading.
"Unbelievable," Sarraya muttered in awe. "How could this be here?"
"Magic," Tarrin told her, shaking off his astonishment. He still had something to do. He had to find that object and make sure it wasn't the Firestaff. He could wonder at this place all he wanted after that task was accomplished.
"It must rest on top of the Rock Spire like a plate balanced on a pole," Sarraya said quietly. "How does it stay up?"
"Magic," he told her again. "There's magic permeating everything here. It keeps the stone strong."
"An entire city," Sarraya said in disbelief. "Who would believe me if I told them?"
"I would," he said calmly. "Then again, I know you're not lying."
Sarraya laughed, and that seemed to snap her out of it. "It is pretty amazing, isn't it?"
"Only to us," he shrugged. "They're probably used to it."
An Aeradalla landed on the edge of the tier not twenty paces from them, next to the building to his left. He ducked back into the alley and looked at this winged person. He was tall and thin, and he had those large white-feathered wings on his back. His hair was a long blond braid hanging down his back, his skin bronzed from the sun, and he was quite attractive by human norms. He wore little more than a cross harness and trousers with a wide leather belt, upon which hung a small crossbow and a slender sword, and soft half-boots of leather. A crossbow was a clever weapon for a winged warrior, since it didn't need to be held in a drawn position, and they were relatively easy to aim. For a highly mobile warrior, it was a sensible weapon, for landing to engage with a sword was taking away from one of the Aeradalla's fundamental advantages. It was smarter for them to shoot crossbows at their enemies at a distance from which the opponent could not retaliate. That crossbow looked small enough to be recocked without a windlass. Tarrin would bet that learning to reload that thing while on the wing took a great deal of practice.
The Aeradalla didn't seem to notice him, instead moving up to the building before him. He knocked on a door that Tarrin didn't see before--mainly because the city itself had swallowed up his attention--and was soon allowed inside. When the door closed, Tarrin padded back out towards the edge of the tier, looking at the building. He saw the door now, which was a set of double-doors that, when taken together, were significantly taller and wider than normal doors. To give room for the wings, he realized.
He stopped at the edge of the tier and looked down. It was about forty spans to the next tier, but some of the roofs of the houses and buildings below were close to the level of the floor of the tier he was currently occupying. The effect wasn't one of blocky descent as one looked out over the city, but rather one of gradual sloping towards the edges of the magical city. There were a few holes in that sloping regularity, but they were too far away for his cat's eyes to see much. Tarrin's vision wasn't very sharp in cat form, more geared for seeing motion than making out details. Seeing at distance required vision able to pick out details. He could see to the end of the city, but that far away was little more than a blur of different colors against the continual sky. Those empty areas were dark splotches against the tan backdrop of the city.
"What are those empty places?" Tarrin asked Sarraya.
"Looks like marketplaces," Sarraya replied. "I see alot of Aeradalla in them. I can only guess they're buying things." There was a pause. "I wonder how they keep from running into each other in the air," she mused. "There are alot of them, and only so much airspace overhead."
"Who knows?" he asked, turning around. The magical object was up, and from the sense of it, it was in the Conduit at the heart of the spire. That would place it more or less in the exact center of the city itself. "We have to go that way," he told her, looking back towards the wall of the next tier up, which was about half a longspan away. As far as he could judge. "We'll have to move at night. I'll have to change to get up the tier walls, and I can't do that in the daytime without getting spotted."
"Good plan," Sarraya agreed. "Let's go find some dark, quiet plac
e that can't be seen from above, and we'll rest."
"Why so it can't be seen?"
"Aeradalla are probably related to hunting birds, Tarrin, and if you didn't know, raptors have eyesight that rivals Allia's. They can see a mouse in high grass from a longspan away."
"You have a point," he acceded. "Alright, but I'm not going to spend the rest of the day hiding in that tunnel. We'll just have to find some other place."
"I think we can find something," she assured him. "If worse comes to worst, I'll just conjure up something to hide us until nightfall."
"Good enough," he said calmly as he padded back into the alley.
To: Title EoF
Chapter 15
The night was a different time of day, to be certain, but it was also an entirely different state of mind. It was a time of mystery, a time for things to occur that had no place under the light of the sun, a dark time for dark creatures, carrying out dark deeds.
But just as many things were, the dark was often misunderstood by those who were not governed by it. Tarrin stood on the edge of the selfsame ledge he had occupied during the daytime, standing between those same two buildings with a surprisingly warm, gentle wind pulling at his braid and tail. He was wearing his body for the dark, his natural form, standing on that ledge and looking out on the city with eyes much better suited for taking in the landscape. To any Aeradalla that may happen to see him, he looked a mysterious, ominous figure, a creature out of bedtime stories--or nightmares, as the case may be--a decidedly unnatural being that was clearly invading the home territory of that avian race. But such conclusions were incorrect, for the Were-cat had not come as a baby-stealer or an inciter of chaos, but merely as a curious tourist of sorts, who was there for one reason and one reason only.
Now that he could see the city, he better understood how it probably operated. What he had seen as empty holes in the regularity of the landscape were indeed open patches on the tiers, but what he hadn't seen before was that they weren't the last tiers in the vast rings. There were many more past them, and they all glowed greenish in the soft light of the Skybands and the full White Moon, Domammon. They were farm fields, and they occupied the outside rings of the city's land. The Aeradalla weren't just hunters and gatherers, they had found a way to farm up on this skyborne city. The effort required to haul dirt suitable for farming up to this city was quite staggering to consider, and it increased his respect for the winged race by many degrees. Especially when considering that the open land devoted to farming took up over a third, but not quite nearly half of the available land that existed up on the city's platform. On a platform that ran about ten longspans from center to outside edge, three or four longspans of that radius was given over to farmland.
Since they did farm, that meant that water had to be plentiful here. He hadn't seen any indications of it yet, but he had a ways to go, and he was pretty sure he'd find the answer to that question on his way up.
The buildings immediately inside the ring bordering the farms was filled with large buildings of open construction. Odds were that they were buildings supporting the farming efforts, holding harvests, tools, and other implements required to farm the land brought up here. Instead of building their barns and sheds on the precious land, they had moved them up to the next tier, so every available inch of farming land was made available. That was a very smart move, he recognized.
The buildings inside the barn tier were somewhat large, and those few tiers were where the openings in the skyline were located. Those had to be shops and taverns; a merchant district of sorts. The buildings above those tiers were occupied by a slew of smallish buildings that had to be homes, and he saw as he looked that the further up one looked, the larger and more ornate the houses became. Altitude was a measure of wealth and influence in this strange city, he reasoned. The higher one lived, the higher one's station. He had come out on a tier that had relatively nice homes--something of a middle class of sorts--and he realized that he was just inside that tenuous border. Smaller, cruder houses were on the tier just below the one on which he stood. At the edge of each tier, located symmetrically, were block-and-tackle platforms built off the tier's edge. Loading platforms, he realized, to move items too heavy to carry in flight from one tier to the next.
That seemed all well and good, but it made him curious as to how they got all those goods up here in the first place. If they were too heavy to carry up the tiers, how did they get them up into the city? It was a puzzle, a curiosity, and he would probably skulk around for an answer while travelling to his destination. There were too many things about this city that didn't add up, and his curiosity as to how things worked was starting to override his duty to simply take a look at the object and leave. He'd probably never get another chance to find out, and those things would nag at him for the rest of his life if he didn't find the answers.
He concluded that the platform had not been magically created. The lava tube had brought him out here, and by doing a little surveying, he realized that he was outside of the perimiter of the Rock Spire. The tube had sloped up and out, all the way across the spire. He had entered on the eastern side, and he could tell that he was now on the western side of the city. It had spiralled a little at first, then settled into a long, straight angle that obviously went west. That meant that the platform had to be part of the original stone, and the rest of it had been either worn away by weather or removed. The magic had made it in a sense that it only protected so much stone, and then the rest of it was removed.
That staggered his imagination. This had to have been a mountain at some time, but magic had somehow removed the rest of the mountain, leaving only this behind.
They had always joked that magic could move mountains. Now he was sure that it was no jestful exaggeration.
He couldn't see too much of the buildings above, since the tiers were rather deep, and other buildings got in the way, but he could see all the way to the center of the city. It was on a raised tower of natural rock that was elevated over the highest tier by several hundred spans, and atop it stood a curious black obelisk of sorts, a very large one. His inner senses told him that that was the exact center of the city, and the exact center of the Rock Spire. It was also where the Conduit ran through the spire, and his sense of that object told him that it was located within that curious obelisk.
Of course. They couldn't have made it easy and put it somewhere where he could get to it. No, they had to go and stick it on a pinnacle in the very center of a city designed for creatures with the ability to fly. What would take an Aeradalla about five minutes of flight would take him nearly half the night in gruelling ascent of tier after tier, then a murderous climb up that towering rock tower to the obelisk at its peak.
"What do you see?" Sarraya asked. She knew that in the night and in humanoid form, Tarrin's sight far outstripped hers. He enjoyed the best of both worlds in that regard, gaining both the cat's night vision and the human's clarity of vision.
He quickly explained the layout of the city to her, then turned and looked back to the farmland below. "This isn't going to be easy, Sarraya," he grunted. "I'm going to have to do alot of climbing."
"I noticed. Strange that nobody seems to be out," she said. "I could fly by this light."
"You can hover and go slow, too," Tarrin told her. "It'd probably be alot more dangerous for them."
There were Aeradalla out. He knew that. His sensitive ears had picked them up all around them, but he could tell that they were walking instead of flying. That explained the streets. They didn't fly at night, so they had made streets so they could move around on the tiers during the night. That also meant that the general layout of the city wasn't absolute, as well. There had to be shops, inns, festhalls and taverns on every tier, since moving from tier to tier would require flying. But they were probably small affairs, open only during the night for those land-bound Aeradalla that wanted to go out, while the ones on the tiers below were probably much larger and better stocked.
T
arrin turned and looked up. By his count, he had to go up about ten or so tiers to reach the tier surrounding that rock tower. Some tiers were only twenty spans or so high, but others were around forty or fifty spans high. Those had to be major boundaries, with a significance to the Aeradalla who lived here. He stood on the edge of one such major tier, so perhaps he stood at the border of, say, another district of the city. There were three major tiers above him, but he couldn't tell how many were below him, because of the sloping of the city and the buildings that were in his way.
Ariana. She had to be up here somewhere, the tall woman with blue hair, chiselled, muscular features, and a generous nature. He had warm memories of her, of their brief conversation with her, how he had uncharacteristically opened up to her, when she was a complete stranger. If he could somehow find Ariana, it would make all of this much, much easier. She owed him a debt, and she could repay it by flying him up to that obelisk and let him take a look, then fly him back down to the ground.
He remembered her scent. He never forgot a scent. He could wander around and try to find it...
Or he could arrange it so she came to him.
It wouldn't be that hard. He had no doubt that Ariana remembered him, remembered him very clearly. If rumor began to drift across the city that he'd been seen, he might be able to lure her out to where she could find him. She knew he was a Were-cat, so if she saw him as a cat, it was a good bet that she'd make the connection. It would cost him a couple of days, though. That was the drawback. He'd have to get himself noticed and then hide until those rumors reached Ariana. It would only take him a night to get to the obelisk...but if he did it that way, all his questions about the city would probably go unanswered. He was starting to waver between doing what he came to do and exploring a little bit.
Regardless, the idea of climbing back down didn't sit well with him, not when a much faster and easier way down was at hand. His impulsive climb up hadn't taken into consideration the long, gruelling ordeal of getting down. Ariana could fly him down in a matter of moments, where it would take him an entire day of exhaustive work to get down on his own. He knew he was on something of a schedule, but delaying a day or two wouldn't be that great a layover.
Tarrin Kael Firestaff Collection Book 3 - Honor and Blood by Fel © Page 55