“Here!” she said, thrusting a fistful of coins at him. “I don’t need a bodyguard and I certainly don’t want one. Keep the thirty silver you took from my father and take this. I’m going to join the next caravan and be on my way. Just leave me alone.” The Nightwalker glanced over his shoulder, perhaps intrigued by the generous offer.
“No. I will stay with you.”
Nishka sighed in defeat and slumped by the campfire. She had a bad feeling about this strange man.
As she nodded off to sleep, she caught a glimpse of his predatory eyes. She felt for the knife concealed under her belt and took comfort in its weight.
Several hours later, she came to her senses in startling clarity.
“It is time to wake up,” a man’s voice said, and Nishka felt his hand on her. She immediately leaped to her feet and reached for her knife.
“Why are you touching me?”
“It was necessary to wake you.” Nishka blinked harshly under the glare of the morning sun. Without pausing to eat, she picked up her knapsack and set foot on the road. She broke pace with Arxu, leaving him to fall behind.
“You’re avoiding me,” he said.
“I don’t need a bodyguard.” Arxu seized her by the arm, and she recoiled from his cold grip. She turned to kick him in the groin, but his stare paralyzed her. No emotion reflected in those jaded eyes.
He released Nishka and she slowly backed away. What had she just seen in his eyes? They looked empty. If the eyes were supposedly the windows into one’s soul, what indeed lurked in his?
“What is our destination?” Arxu finally asked, glancing at a crossroad robed in mist.
“Sepulzer.”
“Sepulzer?” he echoed.
“Yes. Haven’t you been there before?” Arxu didn’t answer. “I was hoping you could tell me more about the city-states of Eyegad. I only know what little my father told me.”
“Then I will rely on you for information.” The hairs on Nishka’s neck prickled as the silence deepened.
“What can you tell me about the city-states?” she asked. Arxu gripped his staff a little tighter.
“They do not trust each other.”
Chapter 3
Nishka eyed the tracks carved into the dirt from caravan wagons. She hoped other artisans with armor and blades had not reached Sepulzer yet. With any luck, the merchants who passed through were selling spices or meats. Nishka turned left on the crossroad and Arxu magnetically followed.
She still couldn’t believe her escort was oblivious to the city of Sepulzer. Didn’t he travel south along the road? From which direction did he arrive at Riverwell? She resisted the temptation to ask.
“Sepulzer is an aristocracy,” she said. “A man named Jabul oversees the city-state. My father tells me crime is rampant here, and Jabul isn’t equipped to deal with any crisis that befalls the city. The people often say he secludes himself in his palace and he neglects policy. Instead, he hoards gold he has taxed from the commoners and pursues a lavish life. Corrupt ambassadors supervise the internal affairs but little good results from their efforts. Sepulzer’s economy is perhaps the weakest of all the city-states in Eyegad.”
“And you expect to acquire profit in Sepulzer?”
“It’s a possibility. I have to try.” She remembered another aspect of the corrupt city she gleaned from her father. “There’s also a magnificent tower in Sepulzer called Tythoril. You can see all around the city from its viewpoint.”
Overhead, the sky portended rain, a gray pall that so often hovered above Sepulzer. The constant pelting rain or seething tempest added to the depressing overtones of the notorious city-state. Thunder echoed somberly in the distance like a war drum.
“Hierarchy is an important factor in Sepulzer,” Nishka added. “The gap between the rich and the poverty-stricken is enormous. Furthermore, the city is rife with rivaling factions, forcing citizens to align with one faction over the other.”
“Criminal factions?”
“In some cases, yes... One of the most infamous organizations is called Red Gate. This group primarily consists of disenfranchised youths turned to crime. Extortion, weapons smuggling, and robbery.”
“Tell me more about the city factions.”
“Before I left home, my father warned me about a faction called Sinner’s Eye. He told me to keep far away from any men with body markings of eyes and hands. Other than that, he didn’t go into detail.”
“The Sinner’s Eye may traffic slaves... or more nefarious practices.”
“Well, I have no intention of finding out. Any group that calls itself ‘Sinner’s Eye’ has got to be creepy.”
Together, they approached the city that defined both beauty and hedonism. Even from a distance, the metropolis captured Nishka’s imagination and made her skin tingle with both fear and awe. Sepulzer awaited them like the entrance to a great, palatial mausoleum. Spindly towers rose high above the city, embellished with statues. Sepulzer was a spectacular labyrinth of dark architecture, every twist and turn revealing another sordid aspect to society.
The gates yawned open and an overjoyed Nishka plunged ahead in search of the nearest inn and soft bed. That relief was dashed by the sight of the armed guards before her.
“We need to inspect the cart before you can enter the city,” a man said, his hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his blade. Fear began to dance in Nishka’s brain as the guards approached.
Much to her concern, they removed the crates from the cart and violently pried them open.
“Do you have to open the crates?”
“Assuming you have nothing to hide, this shouldn’t be a problem. Wait by the side of the road.” Nishka sighed and followed Arxu toward their designated place. At least the guards didn’t opt to search them.
“I thought you said the guards seldom enforce the law,” Arxu murmured.
“That’s true... but you said the city-states don’t trust each other. I guess they enforce the laws against foreigners.”
“What do you suppose they think we’re smuggling?”
“I don’t know. Illegal substances?” She watched apprehensively as they opened another crate and rummaged through its contents. She was even more displeased when they searched through their food and supplies.
Nishka could hear them muttering to one another in hushed tones and occasionally laughing. Several minutes later, one of the guards addressed her.
“All right, the cart has passed inspection. You’re free to pass.” Nishka protectively returned to the cart and the guards backed away. She hoped they didn’t damage any of the goods. If she found a single dent in the armor, she would make sure the cart ran over their toes when she left Sepulzer.
Nishka was the first to enter the overwhelming plaza. Arxu slowly trailed behind, keeping an eye on the guards. The donkey pulled the cart through the gates, following Nishka into the streets.
Arxu gazed at his surroundings like a blind man whose eyes had just been opened. The splendor of its architecture was unlike anything he ever witnessed; gloriously carved spires and constructs lined the cityscape like a graceful skeleton that rose above the despair of the people.
The dystopian city was an artistic endeavor if not a social failure that promulgated poverty and suffering. The temples, manors, mausoleums, tombs and fortifications resounded with meticulously crafted detail. He looked upon a building that served as the royal tomb of the lord and his kin. Glyphs and inscriptions were intricately carved into the surface. Unknown to anyone but the most cryptic Sepulzites, this mausoleum served as a resting place, lascivious bathhouse, and the lair to a host of thieves.
A soaring temple stretched itself out in the distance. Flying buttresses jutted along the edifice like the ribs of an emaciated being. No passer-bye could resist letting their eyes roam across its architecture. Surely, the downtrodden felt some pride in Sepulzer’s façade.
An atmosphere of indulgence lingered across the market. Street vendors and merchants displayed everything f
rom spiced meats to animals and servants.
Nishka established herself at the edge of the bazaar, where she assorted the weapons and armor inventoried in the cart. She hardly knew the first thing about selling merchandise. If worse comes to worst, she could always ask for Arxu’s help.
He stood calmly by in the unlikely possibility that she would need him.
Nishka assembled several blades for display. She admired the gorgeous detail her father imbued in his work. How anything so beautiful could be used to maim another was beyond her. She gingerly set it down.
“That’s quite an assortment of weapons you have there.” Nishka looked up, expecting a customer, but there were two guards. One of them smiled warmly at her. “Greetings, young lady. What brings a merchant like yourself to our gracious city?”
She recovered from the unexpected compliment and eagerly replied, “Oh, thank you! I’m here for the spring market. My father couldn’t make it this year so I journeyed in his place.” The guard delicately picked up one of the steel swords and examined it.
“Are you also a craftsman?” he asked.
“No, my father made everything you see here.”
“But surely someone with your generosity made a contribution to his efforts.” Nishka smiled.
“I assist with—”
“Menial tasks,” Arxu interrupted. Nishka looked angrily at Arxu to silence him. “But she is not an apprentice,” he quickly added. The guard shook off the interruption and returned his attention to Nishka.
“You have an impressive selection of goods. I rarely see blades produced with such high quality.” Nishka felt a surge of pride upon hearing the guard’s praise. “You’re early for the spring market, however. The bazaar has been relatively quiet and slow these days.”
The other guard remarked, “I rarely see female merchants in Sepulzer.” Nishka didn’t particularly like the way he worded his observation. The guard awkwardly cleared his throat, letting his companion speak instead.
“I’ve never seen you here before. Are you a newcomer?”
“Yes, this is the first time I’ve traveled to Sepulzer.”
“I’m sure you’ll feel welcome at our lovely city.” Nishka looked around and scanned the streets.
“It is... impressive.” “Decadent” would have been a far better choice of description.
“You should see Sepulzer at night; it looks absolutely majestic. Perhaps I can escort you around Sepulzer...” He looked at Arxu as if he were a stray dog circling her heels. “...when you aren’t being followed by your friend here.” Suddenly, Nishka felt uncomfortable around the man, and she inched closer to Arxu.
“Actually, I won’t be staying in Sepulzer for long,” she confessed. “I can’t afford to spend too much time in...” The guard looked noticeably disappointed.
“I understand...” He set down the sword. “As a member of the city watch, I’m obligated to collect a small tax from all merchants renting space. It’s only a minor fee that every trader abides by. Have you the payment?”
Nishka looked warily at Arxu, who nodded in assurance. She dipped her fingers in the purse dangling from her belt and retrieved a small sum of copper.
“Thank you,” the guard said, and he smiled at her for a moment longer than necessary. He swept away with cocky strides and Nishka breathed a sigh of relief once he disappeared.
Arxu continued to drink in the spectacle of Sepulzer. Every imaginable city paled in comparison to this debauched place. He wandered down the street as something drew his attention.
Tythoril beckoned him. She lured Arxu across the street like a grandiose maiden whose silent presence proved captivating. The tower watched over the city like a guardian, a feat of construction outstretched for the heavens—if such a place existed over Sepulzer.
Tythoril was dedicated to no one, perhaps only to the concept of beauty itself, a lofty embodiment of grace, arrogant in its pose but tempered with a voluptuous form. Its spectacular proportions could never be replicated with nearly the same infallible detail and splendor. Over sixty years and a thousand artists had been instrumental to its construction.
As he neared the structure, the sun passed behind its form. The darkness it rendered stretched across the northwestern bowels of the city.
Shapes crept through the dark side streets and sinister-looking vagrants slinked through the alleys. Commoners strayed further away from the street as though the darkness itself portended human vice. The voices of haggling merchants and customers were drowned out by silence.
Nishka couldn’t believe how surreal the Sepulzer market had become. Where had the guards gone?
She watched uncertainly as two men approached. The lankier of the two grinned insidiously with lips curling back from his rotting teeth.
“What are you selling, young lady?”
If his eyes dared linger on her body, she would make him soon regret it. Disgust boiled up inside her at the very sight of his face. The offending odor of alcohol lingered on their breath, causing Nishka to recoil. The man chuckled deviantly.
“These streets are under the control of Morrig, not the city watch. Our master likes to collect some coin from the merchants in return for renting his streets. You may think of us as your insurance against any unfortunate incidents or misunderstandings.” Nishka grimaced at the poorly disguised threat.
“We make sure the people behave in accordance with Morrig’s will. So what do you say? We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Morrig can become... angry if he isn’t compensated for his generosity.”
Nishka was offended more by the man’s smell than the fact that he was coercing her for money. She discretely scanned his hands and arms, looking for any peculiar body markings. She concluded he was not a member of Sinner’s Eye. The foul man sneered and held out his gnarled hand.
“Do we have a deal?”
She glared into his eyes.
“No.”
The thief looked as though she just spat in his face. He was outraged but he stifled the words that nearly flew from his lips. Instead, he smiled peculiarly as though her answer amused him. He leaned in close to her ear, but he pivoted sharply and aimed a dagger at her face.
Before the blade could even nick her skin, Nishka’s elbow smashed into his jaw. A sharp pain, leveled by her knee, knocked the breath out of him and he collapsed to the streets. The other thief leaped over his fallen comrade and brandished a sword in his gangly fingers.
He saw Nishka reach into the cart behind her as he raised his sword to finish her off. Suddenly, his eyes widened as she hefted a battle axe. He tried to arrest his momentum and spin to the side, but it was too late.
The axe chopped through his sword and bit into his shoulder. A splitting scream erupted from his mouth as he plunged to his knees. The other thug stared in shock, and he spun to the left upon hearing shouts of alarm. He fled as the city guards closed in swiftly without mercy.
“Lower your weapon!” a guard roared at Nishka.
“But they attacked me!”
“I ordered—” The sentry spied movement to his left and he looked upon Arxu. The sight of the eerie man approaching rendered him speechless. His eyes widened in shock and he took an involuntary step backward. “Wha—?”
“She is with me,” Arxu calmly explained. The guard still didn’t register his words.
“You… you are to leave Sepulzer immediately. Take your goods and leave our city in peace. Lord Jabul will not tolerate this mayhem from outlanders.” The proclamation hit Nishka like a blow to the stomach.
“I didn’t do anything—”
“We don’t know for certain what happened,” the guard said, turning a scorching glare on her. “But we can clearly attest to your assault on this man. For all we know, you could have connections to these criminals.” The wounded thief curled up on the streets, trying to hide from Nishka.
“You are to leave the city by nightfall or face imprisonment,” the guard warned. He seized the thief and hauled him away as he whi
mpered in pain. A lone beggar across the street watched the entire display.
“Stupid outsiders,” he huffed to Nishka’s dismay.
* * *
The markets didn’t recover from the commotion for the rest of the day. Nishka scanned the various characters roaming the city square; a dozen women vested in revealing garments, a priest robed in decadence, and homeless children wandering the streets.
She couldn’t locate Arxu anywhere. He vanished hours ago as though he never existed. Night was fast approaching and worry crept up on Nishka like thunder before a storm. If she didn’t heed the guard’s warning, she would be caged like an animal.
Nishka wandered past two enormous slabs of polished granite in the plaza. Weighing over thirty tons and standing over twenty feet tall, the slabs were inscribed with writing that Nishka couldn’t decipher. A sudden noise startled her and she spun to her left. Crouched in the shadows of the slabs was a small, elderly man.
“Excuse me,” Nishka piped up. The man lifted his head. One of his eyes appeared entirely white and unseeing. His teeth were yellow and his dry skin was irregularly discolored. She could tell at once he was one of Sepulzer’s many destitute casualties. Nishka lost her voice for a second, taken aback by his pitiful appearance. The harmless man smiled at her, glad to share in a stranger’s company.
“Have you seen a man with bluish hair?” Nishka asked. The man looked blankly at her without response. Nishka persisted, hopeful that he could somehow help. “He’s wearing a brown cape... and he carries a black staff with him.”
The beggar held out his hand. By this time, Nishka was growing weary of people asking her for money. She reached for a few pieces of bronze in her pocket and dropped them into his hand. He nodded gratefully and with a trembling finger, he pointed toward the tower in the distance. Nishka set her eyes upon Tythoril.
What could Arxu possibly be doing in there?
“Thank you,” she whispered, still gazing at the morbid spire. She hesitantly walked toward the imposing building in her determination to find Arxu. Suddenly, her feet stopped as she traversed the plaza. This was her opportunity to leave the man behind.
The Undying God Page 2