The Arclight Saga 2-Book Set

by C. M. Hayden

  Taro remembered what Ross had said about farseers long ago and knew them to be roughly the Helian equivalent of magisters.

  “Is that going to be a problem?” Vexis said frankly.

  Rennly took in a hard breath. “Not fehr me. However, I feel I must warn yeh. Helia Edûn is not the place for people of yehr kind.”

  “Helia’s never been especially kind to magisters since my father came to power,” Vexis said, waving a dismissive hand. “You needn’t worry, you’re safe so long as you stay with—”

  “You misunderstand,” Rennly said apologetically. “Things are not as they were only two years ago.”

  “How do you mean?” Vexis said.

  “Those who practice the Old Ways have been disappearing in the dead of night, without word or warning…and…”

  “And?” Vexis said impatiently.

  Rennly looked up at the stars and over to the horizon. The barest sliver of sunlight was peeking over sandy hilltops in the distance. “We are not far,” he said. “Better to show yeh.”

  They followed behind Rennly as they trotted toward the hills.

  Sikes looked a little anxious. When Taro inquired as to why, Sikes told him that this was the first time he’d been to Helia Edûn since he was five years old.

  As they neared the hills, small bits of greenery became more commonplace; and there was the distinct scent of water on the air, intermixed with the bustle of a large city. They ascended the final hilltop and Taro saw Helia Edûn for the first time.

  Whereas Endra Edûn was built upward, with high towers that touched the clouds, Helia Edûn was built outward. It seemed to span from horizon to horizon as far as the eye could see. If you were to start walking from one end, you wouldn’t reach the other until late afternoon. Bisecting the city was the River Cardaeros, the longest river on Arkos. It ran from the tip of the Lorne-Aldor continent, through Helia, and emptied into the Caeris Sea.

  The river was as wide as a lake and peppered with hundreds of fishing and merchant ships, delivering all manner of spices and supplies from the north. The water was bluer than any water Taro had ever seen; and even from a good mile off, he felt the cool breeze coming off it. Far to the north, the river passed through icy mountains and almost froze solid; and even after traveling hundreds of miles through the blistering heat, it was still cool as a fresh autumn morning.

  Most of the buildings were sandstone intermixed with flourishes of blue. With such easy access to an enormous trade route, dyes and bright colors were commonplace, making the entire city a shade brighter in the orange light of the sunrise. The largest of the buildings was an enormous aculam amidst four spires. It was far and hard to see, but its imposing silhouette cast a great shadow on all things that lay before it. Behind it was what appeared to be the Helian imperial palace.

  Overall, the city was not at all what he’d expected given the reputation of the Shahl and the mass exodus of many Helian citizens. Thousands braved the open desert and icy Endran tundra every month to make it to the City of the Sun. Some reasons were easier to quantify—some were ill and needed the Arclight to cure them, for instance—and many didn’t have the money to return to their homeland.

  “It’s beautiful,” Taro said absentmindedly. His vision was far away, and it took a long while before he noticed that his three companions were staring at him dumbly. “What?”

  His eyes had been so fixed on the city itself that he didn’t notice what was on the outer perimeter. The city had no walls, but around the roads entering it were hundreds of wooden beams fixed into the ground. On them were bodies. Human bodies. Nailed to each post was a plaque written in Deific:

  Ordis-nir corden.

  Death to heretics.

  And there was something else that unnerved Taro even more than the sight of the dead bodies. Some ineffable, dark force in the pit of his stomach. Taro dismissed it as nerves.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The Game

  TARO’S EYES SCANNED THE bustling city. Somewhere amongst the winding, dusty streets, Nima was waiting for him.

  They’d been in the desert for days at this point; their legs hurt, their throats were dry, and they were generally exhausted. Rennly assured Taro that so long as they didn’t actually use magic within the city they would be safe, though he advised them to keep their magistry equipment out of sight.

  As they neared the city limits, Vexis pulled up her hood and wrapped a thin white veil of cloth around her mouth and nose. When Taro gave her a questioning look, she simply said, “I’d rather not advertise my return quite yet.”

  They trekked down the last sand dune and passed enormous copper-studded bases with sandstone statues and granite obelisks atop them, each covered in detailed, colorful depictions of Helia’s past emperors. Some of the blocks would’ve weighed over a hundred tons easily, and Taro could only guess as to how such things were built without magic to aid them.

  One thing that struck Taro was that it appeared the poverty of the city had been overstated. Sure, there were poor people, but that was the case in every city on Arkos. The impoverished huddled in alleys and corners, peeking out at Taro and his entourage as they passed, but most people were simply well-off men and women living their lives. They certainly didn’t seem frightened or oppressed, and Taro mused as to the true extent of the Shahl’s reputation.

  Clothing here was a fair bit different than it was in Endra. Those with means dressed in bright colors, muted purples, rich blues, and whites. Many women and older girls wore outfits that would’ve been considered quite scandalous in other civilized parts of the world, most showing off a great deal more skin than Taro was used to seeing.

  The men wore either long robes or tunics, depending on their professions. The wealthy amongst them donned gaudy yellow vestments with silver trim, and the edges of their eyes were painted with black outlines that ran down the sides of their cheeks. Tattoos were commonplace, and even many of the younger children had them. In fact, as they passed one of the alleyways, a group of boys was gathered around an overturned crate. A boy of no more than ten was sitting with his eyes pointed toward the ground and his shirt pulled over his head. An older boy was etching an elaborate depiction of the Jormung the World Eater, an enormous serpent wrapped around a mountain, onto his back with a hot pin-iron heated with an open flame. The younger boy looked to be in considerable pain, there were even a few beads of blood, but he did his best not to flinch or fidget.

  There was a light crowd in the dirt streets. Taro tried to look unassuming, as he was the only non-Helian in sight and stuck out like a sore thumb. They soon found themselves in a bazaar; dozens of merchant carts lined the sides of the road, selling produce, fish, spices, cloth, long sheets of vellum and papyrus, and all manner of mercantile. Many were just opening and stringing up gray tarps to shield them from the heat of the desert sun.

  The city wasn’t completely flat, but rather seemed built on a series of gently sloping hills. The old sandstone and limestone architecture flowed up it, and many (if not most) of the structures seemed as though they were hundreds of years old. Their arching blue rooftops framed the rising sun. Taro could only look out at the vast city and wonder how close Nima was, but he could feel her as sure as he could feel his own heartbeat.

  He looked to Vexis and she seemed to anticipate his question. They veered off into an alleyway, and she surreptitiously checked the dowsing compass.

  “She’s not far,” Vexis said under her breath, then pointed northwest. “About a mile that way.”

  They followed her directions through the winding streets. They were assaulted on all sides by merchants hocking their wares.

  “Halfpenny an ounce!” a merchant shouted, running a wooden scoop through a bin of pistachios and cashews.

  Another beefy man with hardly any neck held up faux-gold chains by the ends. The glass gems glittered in the sunlight. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be without jewelry,” he said to Vexis, though with her hood up and a veil around her face, Tar
o wasn’t sure how he knew whether she was ‘pretty’ or not. “Get your man to buy it for you, eh?” He nudged toward Taro.

  They passed four brothels, three inns, a printing press, two potters, a chandler, a glassblower, a clothier, and six produce carts before they came to a four-way intersection of the roads. Vexis stopped dead in her tracks beneath a rope-and-wood bridge overhead. She moved left, stopped. Moved right, stopped. Moved forward, and stopped again. Then she circled around, a bit confused, before looking up.

  “Something wrong?” Taro asked, looking up with her but seeing nothing.

  As that there was no one in the immediate area, Vexis pulled down her veil. “She’s supposed to be right here.”

  They thoroughly searched the immediate area. It was a somewhat run-down section of downtown. There were a few shops nearby: a bakery, a tailor, and a place that identified itself as ‘Galagor’s Aviary’ which featured a gaggle of hooting and hollering cockatiels fluttering in cages. Nima was nowhere to be found.

  “The thing’s busted,” Sikes exclaimed. Taro was thinking the exact same thing.

  Vexis shook her head and furrowed her brow. “No,” she said, “it’s working. She’s got to be right here.”

  A few feet off, Rennly ran his hand through his curly beard and grumbled. “I may be able to help yeh,” he said in his thick accent.

  Taro could hear the implication in his voice. “But…” He rolled his hand.

  “But,” Rennly continued. “It is not a safe place for children.”

  Taro laughed aloud at this. “I think we’ll be fine.”

  Rennly pointed to the dirt road below them. “She may be below.”

  “I didn’t realize the tunnels went this far from the aculam,” Vexis said.

  “How do we get down there?” Taro asked Rennly.

  Rennly shook his head. “Information isn’t cheap.”

  Taro sighed and went to his satchel. “How much do you want?”

  “Don’t need money,” Rennly said. His eyes danced a bit. “Summa that arkfire will do nicely. At least half the vial.”

  Taro fished out the vial and handed the whole thing to him. “All right. How do we get down there?”

  Rennly pocketed the arkfire and tied his bulldog to a hitching post beside the bakery. “We grab a scone.”

  Taro blinked. “A scone?”

  Rennly opened the bakery door and slipped inside. The others quickly followed and were greeted by the warm smell of baking pastries and barley bread.

  It was a rather unassuming place. There was a single circular oven with four racks on the left wall and a few tattered trays sitting on countertops. Beside them were small price slips decorated with grandmotherly drawn flowers around the numbers. A hunchback old woman, perhaps in her mid-eighties, waddled from the oven to the countertops, carrying a tray of freshly baked scones. She took a tube of raspberry jam and was slathering it on the cooling pastries.

  She didn’t seem to hear the door open, but when she caught the motion of them entering, her huge eyes, framed with circular spectacles, zeroed in on them. A bright smile lit her face, and she scooted toward them. She reminded Taro so much of his own grandmother that he almost hugged her out of instinct.

  “Oh my,” she said, looking them over. Her voice was haggered and exceedingly friendly, like they were relatives she hadn’t seen in years. “Look at you strapping young men. Come to visit Grandma Margaret?” She eyed Vexis. “Oh, and a pretty young girl. What can I do for you lovelies? I’ve got some fresh macadamia cookies over there on the shelf, a halfpenny will get you a dozen. If you’ve got a moment to wait, these scones will be finished right quick.”

  Rennly placed a shekel on the counter and slid it to Margaret. “The special.”

  Margaret gave the wild-looking man a gentle, knowing look. “The special’s only a penny today.”

  “Then put the rest to good use,” Rennly said.

  The old woman straightened her back, and her eyes turned cold. She glanced at Taro, Sikes, and Vexis, and her haggard voice gave way to a stern one. She wagged her forefinger, palm up, at them. “It’ll be a shekel for each of the buggers, too.” When they didn’t immediately move, her voice became impatient. “C’mon, little pissers, get to steppin’. I ain’t gettin’ any younger.”

  Taro, more than slightly stunned at the woman’s changed demeanor, set three shekels into her palm. It was the last bit of Helian money he had left.

  With no hint of strain in her step, Margaret marched them to the storage room. On the far end was a forty-pound bag of wheat flour, which she shoved aside, revealing a hatch. She pulled the hatch open; it led to a rickety staircase that descended into near total darkness.

  The bell on the shop door chimed, and Margaret headed back for the other room. Before she closed the door, she motioned in the air with her finger. “Follow the hall to the left. Two thumps and a tap.”

  They climbed down into what appeared to be an old storage cellar. It was dry and dusty, but seemed to get a fair amount of traffic. The dirt floor had hundreds of footprints that had passed so frequently, it had left an indent from the base of the stairs to an adjacent “hall” so narrow they had to shimmy through it sideways.

  Following Margaret’s directions, they came to a heavy wooden door with no outward handle but numerous copper braces lining the edges. At eye level was a small one-way peephole. Taro knocked as he’d been told, and he saw a shadow pass behind the glass. A moment later, the door opened.

  What was on the other side wasn’t at all what Taro expected. There were hundreds of men crowding a vast underground cave structure that snaked out in various directions, like a vast spiderweb. It appeared to have once been an old mineshaft similar to the one they’d met Rennly in, but these tunnels appeared to be natural. They were lit with torchlight, making the whole area hot and stuffy.

  Amidst the crowd were three large pits dug into the ground, each surrounded by barbed wire strung over splintered wooden stakes. Around the pits were throngs of jeering and cheering Helians. They screamed as the sweating, hard-bodied men inside beat each other bloody.

  Every split lip and black eye was met with a roar of applause. Some of the men were so beaten that their eyes seemed to be coming slightly out of their sockets, and many had only a few teeth left. So much blood had spilled, the dirt below was clumpy and red like clay.

  Nearby were bookkeepers taking bets, gamblers playing dice on the outer corners, and lines of huge men waiting their turn to fight.

  “Stay close,” Rennly said, and motioned for Taro, Sikes, and Vexis to follow.

  Nobody seemed to pay them much attention as they pushed through the crowds. In the nearest pit, a red-haired man with a large dragon tattoo covering his back was wailing onto the face of a dark-skinned man. Though the man on the ground was clearly unable to fight back, there didn’t seem to be a referee of any kind and the beating continued unabated.

  Eventually the large man let his opponent go and pushed him into the barbed wire. The loser cried out through a mouthful of blood and fell face forward. His friends dragged him to safety and the victor held up his enormous, vein-covered arms in triumph.

  “Who’s next?!” he shouted, and pointed out at the crowd.

  “Bets are open,” a slender, pinch-faced bookkeeper said smugly.

  Men clamored toward him, practically stuffing money into his face. He dutifully recorded each bet in a small pocketbook with bustling efficiency. It was at this moment that Taro realized he’d been staring at the fight for a long time, and when looked for his companions, they were nowhere to be seen. He pushed ahead toward where they were headed, and found them outside a series of iron doors guarded by men with long swords on their hips. They weren’t city guards, but they were pointedly avoided by the other patrons. This was the only area not packed full of people.

  Taro came up beside Vexis, and she whispered in his ear. “The compass says she’s here.”

  “Where is ‘here’ exactly?” Taro asked, eyeing th
e guards.

  “The fighting pits,” Rennly answered. “It is owned by the richest man in Helia, an Endran named Thaedos. He is a big…” Rennly searched for the word. “…gambler. Takes a cut of the fighting profits and hosts card games here. All are welcome to attend.”

  “Cards?” Taro said, mostly to himself. After a moment of thought, he straightened his back and marched toward the guards. This was no time to be timid.

  “Excuse me,” Taro said. He was painfully aware that he had only five crowns in his pocket. This was a great sum to most, but for a man like Thaedos, it would be little more than a pittance. Still, he had to try.

  “Y’sir?” the taller of the two guards said.

  His tone was surprisingly cordial. It made sense. They wanted people to join their game; rude guards would be off-putting.

  “I was looking to be dealt in? What’s the game?” Taro asked, trying to sound like this was something he did all the time.

  Before the guard could answer, Sikes yanked on Taro’s sleeve. “Let me do it,” he whispered. “I’ll find out what you need to know.”

  “But—”

  “I’m a better card player than you by a Celosan mile. How many questions will you get to ask if you’re knocked out in the first hand?”

  Taro conceded the point. “Maybe we can both play.” He looked to the guard. “Are there any free seats?”

  “Certainly,” the guard said. “Give me a moment, and I’ll speak with the boss.” He returned a moment later and ushered them inside. “You’re allowed guests, but please be mindful of distracting others during the hands.”

  Rennly stayed out, saying he had other business to attend to. He thanked them graciously, and they parted ways.

  In contrast to the dry, jagged cave and dusty pits outside, the room they entered was lavish. Sure, it was still basically a cave, but it had many homely amenities that almost made one forget that fact. A fine mahogany table topped with green felt stood in the center surrounded by nine padded chairs. On the other edges were long couches packed with half-dressed women, gossiping and sipping wine. Along the back was a bar stocked with hundreds of bottles of fine liquors. The entire room smelled of ash, cigar smoke, and alcohol.