by Nikolas Rex
The shops were soon behind them, being quickly replaced by different buildings. They passed many storehouses and a lumber yard in the distance where men were cutting timber into small logs.
“This is the industrial district, all sorts of heavy duty supplies and equipment for buildings and things come from here. You can also buy material for ships, sails and large stretches of canvas for tents and the like.” Soren continued his tour.
After a short while they passed through the Industrial District and came upon another.
Everything in this district consisted of Inn’s and quarters for the weary traveler. Some were built magnificently, grand three and four story manors, with well painted walls and signs shining with gold. Other structures near the end of the district were only a single story, not very large or well kept and crowded with small side streets and alleyways. Zildjin told him it was the Lodging District. Every so often they would come to the apex of a hill within the city and Marc caught a few glimpses of the waterfront and docks. It wasn’t till they reached a certain rise that he was able to see everything up close.
“This is one of the best views of the docks,” Zildjin commented.
It was truly an impressive sight with all the ships masts pointing into the blue horizon and the reflection of the many boats in the water.
The docks were full of as much, if not more, movement than the city itself.
At the end of each dock there were large stone buildings with red slate rooftops. Men dressed in luxurious apparel stood in front of each one. Some were talking amongst themselves in a sociable manner. Others overlooked their respective vessels they had invested in, making sure everything was going according to their desires. Men scuttled everywhere along the harbor like little ants. There were captains yelling orders, men scrambling to roll barrels or tie off ropes. Some ships were being loaded, others emptied. There were all sorts of vessels ranging from row boats to clippers, barges to full blown cruisers. The waters never ceased with movement as the crafts cut across its surface. The waves continued to crash upon the adjacent beach in a steady rhythm.
“The one near the end is my shop,” Soren said.
Marc nodded.
They continued to move onward, descending from the vantage point upon which they had been standing. A row of buildings soon obscured their view.
They quickly arrived at a road that curved towards another two spiraling towers and the banner between the buildings had strange symbols on it that quickly formed into readable English and read: TRANSPORTATION DISTRICT.
“Coming up on our destination,” Soren said.
Business in the Transportation District must have been going very well, for many of the buildings were elaborately detailed. There were marble staircases outlined by ornately carved pillars leading up to many of the structures. Grandiose statues and fountains overlooked beautiful gardens. A wide road led up to the castle in the center of the city. As far as Marc was able to tell, each of the districts had a similar road leading towards the heart of Kolima. Further along, there were storehouses, vast structures piled high with goods. Long paths of smooth cobblestone snaked their way from the storehouses down to the docks, making for fairly quick and easy transportation of supplies from ships to warehouse.
There were large roundabouts for the wagons to form lines and unload at the warehouses.
Soren followed a number of wagons into one of the roundabouts and pulled around the cart, heading towards his intended destination. He pulled the balkars to stop in front of a building with a large wooden sign. The Three Ships, was emblazoned in silver upon the wood.
“Right,” Soren announced, “We are here. Boys, I am going to go in and talk with Jeron. I need you to unload half of those sacks,” He pointed to the burlap sacks next to Marc, “And those small crates and four of those barrels. Leave them here by the door and Borse and the rest of Jeron’s crew will take care of it.”
“Yes sir!” Zildjin replied for the three of them.
“Good, then, when I get back we can head over to The Magic Emporium.”
“Of course,” Zildjin replied as Soren jumped down.
He headed quickly towards the building, disappearing inside.
“Let us get to it!” Zildjin turned to Sesuadra and Marc.
Sesuadra jumped down and unhooked the back of the wagon. It came down with a thunk. He then unlatched two long planks from the bottom of the wagon, providing them with a ramp that went all the way to the ground.
Zildjin directed them what to do and they were soon getting things unloaded. Zildjin stood on top of the wagon and carefully handed the things down to Sesuadra who then passed them to Marc who, in turn, placed them on the ground in front of the building. They had to be careful with the barrels but it wasn’t long before they were done.
Marc’s arms hurt as they finished, but the other two weren’t complaining. Marc didn’t want to seem weak, so he kept the soreness to himself.
Soren soon appeared from the building.
“All is well! Now, to the magic district we go!”
Chapter Eight
The Magic Emporium
The magic district was aptly named.
As Soren led their now mostly empty wagon down the road, Marc could feel something in the air, a sort of quiet buzz, or humming, that thrummed down, even to his very soul.
It permeated through the architecture of the buildings, the people who occupied them and those who walked the streets. Many of the edifices had a design unique to the items sold or services rendered within. One had a red tile roof, white plastered walls outlined in dark mahogany. An extravagant garden featuring stone guardians and a pebble walkway made up the front lawn. Another was constructed completely of bamboo and boasted of having the potions to cure any ailment, magical or otherwise. Another had designs and symbols carved into its windowsills and doorway, but no two were quite alike.
Like the rest of Kolima, it too, was busy here. But the Magic District was so much more colorful and vibrant in comparison to the others. The diversity of people and attire brought a bright energy to their various activities. Soren was careful with the balkars as he navigated the lively crowds.
“Is there actually any wizards here?” Marc asked.
“If there are, they most likely hide it,” Sesuadra said, “even though the use of magic is not forbidden in Itherin, as it is in Terragur, it is still not as widely accepted as it was in ages past. People fear what they do not fully understand. The same applies to sorcerers and enchantress’s. The Overseer’s Hands are the only open magic users.”
Marc nodded silently.
Two elderly gentlemen in brightly colored robes and leather belts with silver buckles, both with beards, seemed deep in conversation about a long metal staff with a figurine atop it, of which one of them was holding. A small circle of young bald men clothed in red and orange robes were studying scrolls. A woman with the appearance of an empress, was clothed in an ornate gown of pastel yellows and pinks. She was carefully boarding a carriage. Three younger women, similarly dressed, followed after. Each had a small furry squirrel-like creature on their shoulders and large green books in their right hands. Other citizens had pets as well. None of them were quite like animals Marc was used to seeing in his world, though they did posses some similar qualities. Many were reptilian in nature, a few appeared as some strange cousin to ferrets, small and covered with fur, quick-like in their movements, and even others had wings and avian features. Balkars and aldoms weren’t the only beasts of burden there in the district also. There were some huge creatures closely watched by their owners, as large as elephants, and numerous dog-like creatures running loose and wild in the street.
Marc read signs that boasted of exotic dragon tongue, specially imported unicorn hair, enchanted swords and weapons, wands, staves, and a variety of mundane things made magical. There were significantly fewer street vendors as well. Marc figured it was probably because magic was a much more special and expensive commodity. Only the bravest haw
kers and sellers sold their wares out in the open.
“We are here,” Soren said finally as they pulled up to a large building.
It was a well built structure of stone and mortar. A wide and tall stain-glass window stood in the upper center of the front wall exterior. It depicted a great white tree surrounded by exotic animals, some of which Marc recognized, dragons, wyverns, and unicorns were among them. It reminded Marc of the castles from his own world, albeit this one was much smaller. Above the two great wood carved doors, below the stain-glass window, were the words The Magic Emporium embedded and covered in gold.
Soren jumped down, handing the reins to Zildjin.
“I will let Eleanor know we have arrived, bring the balkars around back and unload the wagon while you are there.”
“Of course,” Zildjin replied.
Sesuadra jumped from the cart and proceeded to the large wooden gate at the side of the emporium. Zildjin steered the hefty creatures up a dirt path and through the gates around back.
Behind the emporium was a large fenced off area like a courtyard, with several small structures in it. There was a stable, an expanse of dirt with targets at the end of it, and two other wooden huts. A set of six steps led up to the rear entrance.
“Here,” Zildjin led the wagon to one of the wooden huts.
Sesuadra jumped down and opened the hut, it was a storage shed.
Marc hopped out of the wagon as well.
They formed another train and quickly finished unloading the rest of the supplies. Marc’s arms flared with pain as they finished, it had been awhile since he had done a good bit of heavy lifting. His whole body felt sore from the wagon ride as well. He brushed his fingers on the sword hilt at his side and felt a small surge of warmth spread up his arm. It was a good feeling. Neither Zildjin nor Sesuadra showed any sign of fatigue. Marc imagined they did this all the time.
Zildjin led the balkars to the stable. Marc watched as he spread handfuls of a pungent smelling spice across the stable. Sesuadra shoveled large clumps of feed into a trough which the large creatures quickly bowed their heads and ate out of.
Marc felt a little awkward just watching, but was grateful they didn’t ask for his help, his arms hurt.
They soon finished and came over to Marc.
“Let us go inside, Soren must be talking with Eleanor,” Zildjin patted Marc on the back, “You will like it here, the shop is quite a sight inside, Eleanor has a vast collection of baubles and things.”
Marc didn’t know what to say in reply so he just nodded his head.
They walked up the small steps and opened the rear doors.
Marc followed the boys inside.
A short hall led to a large chamber room. A set of stairs led to a loft and there were a few other hallways and doors leading to other rooms. The decorations and items in the large space indicated it to be a living area. A spacious kitchen lay to the right next to a large fire hearth and stove, which jutted out of the furthest rock wall next to cabinets which must have been filled with food and cooking equipments and other supplies. The entire room smelled like freshly baked bread, cinnamon, and fresh air.
The polished wood floor was covered with furs of different colors and shagginess. The walls were decorated with tapestries of fancy and artistic colors and designs. A desk sat in one of the corners, piled high with leather bound books, scrolls and littered with feather pens and ink wells. There were several large windows, their shutters open, letting in the bright sunlight. In the center of the room a number of wooden chairs were arranged around a sizable, ornate wooden table.
Soren sat at the table next to an older woman.
Both turned as the boys entered.
The woman stood with an expression of relief and joy on her face.
“Zildjin, Sesuadra, my boys, home at last!”
The old woman looked to be in her early fifties. She had warm brown eyes, a kind smile, and long silky gray hair braided into a large bun. She wore a long gray blue dress laced up on both sides with a large fancy silver adorned belt around her waist. The sleeves of the dress were white with blue cuffs. The cuffs were embroidered with silver thread in meticulous details of intertwining tree branches. The collar of her dress came up past her neck and pointed upward. She wore long blue boots with silver buckles and blue leather lace.
She took both of the boys in a warm hug. She looked up from her embrace.
“And you,” Her voice was grandmotherly and kind, “You must be Marcus.”
He nodded.
“Come here,” She motioned for him to draw nearer.
He didn’t know what to do so he stood there frozen for a moment.
She motioned again.
He drew close and she embraced him.
He felt comfort and warmth. He could not remember the last time someone hugged him. He felt safe, protected.
“Soren has told me everything. You are more than welcome here.”
She hugged him again.
“Thank you,” was all he could say back.
“None of us know what it means.” Soren broke in, referring to the conversation he had been having with Eleanor before the boys had come in, “But I believe that I may be able to find some answers, I have some things I need to do as well, that is why I must go.”
Soren stood up from the table and pushed in his chair.
“Where are you going?” Zildjin asked.
“To Belwick,” Soren replied.
“That is where you grew up, right?” Zildjin said.
“Yes, I grew up there. My father is the Curator of the Kinyrr and Shadowhand Library, if there is anything written of those beings who appeared to us, and of your appearance here, Marcus, than my father will have read it, I am sure of it.”
“You do not mean to leave this moment, do you?” Eleanor asked.
“I mean to leave at first light,” He replied, “I must put some things in order at the docks, close it up, then I will be ready to sail on the morrow.”
“But you have just arrived from such a long journey, and The Gathering—” Eleanor began to protest.
“—will be a fine celebration I am sure,” He said soothingly, “But I feel this is something that should not wait. They were beings of ancient magic Eleanor, as impossible as that may seem we saw them with our own eyes. And Sesuadra had dreamed of Marcus before—” He finished as if he himself could not believe his own words.
Sesuadra and Zildjin nodded as Soren spoke.
Eleanor nodded as well, “It is hard to believe,” she paused, recalling an old saying from her childhood, “but, by the mouth of three shall the truth be as stone.”
She looked Zildjin and Sesuadra in the eyes, ruffling their hair with her grandmotherly hands. Then she looked at Marc.
“You boys are in need of a wash.”
Soren smiled, “They are indeed,” he stated.
He came over and embraced Eleanor, “Stay well Eleanor,”
“I will,” she replied, “Travel safely, and take anything you need before you go.”
“Thank you for your generosity,” He said, taking a step back, “You boys take care of Eleanor here.”
“Yes sir,” they replied.
Soren bowed his head and waved a final goodbye as he retreated through the rear doors.
Eleanor turned to the boys.
“Zildjin and Sesuadra, I have some things for you, but not until after you have washed up. Zildjin, to the wash first. Sesuadra, how about you show our new guest around the shop until Zildjin finishes? Then you can wash up. Then Marc, I will try and find you some clothes while you get cleaned up.”
She rubbed the fabric of his shirt between her fingers, as if unimpressed by the quality of the fabric and handiwork. She nodded her head in a way that said, not to worry child, I will put this right.
Sesuadra headed towards a main hall while Zildjin headed towards one of the rooms. Eleanor followed Sesuadra and Marc.
Sesuadra pushed open two large wooden doors at the end of the ha
ll. They entered into a small crowded room with a smaller door. The room had a desk and a few chairs, some more bookshelves filled with rolled canvas, books, and ink wells and quill pens. Two windows lit the room. They opened another door at the opposite wall and walked into the reverse side of a storefront. A counter was in front of them with the rest of the store filling the large room beyond.
Inside it was dim, the only light shone through a few windows high on each wall, but mostly from the main stained-glass window, casting everything in multicolored hues. The tall ceiling was supported by stone pillars and large wooden beams. Its sizeable interior was filled with rows and rows of items carefully set up on display, wall to wall. The entire shop smelt of subtle hints of dust and age and a stronger scent of metal, which came from the assorted suits of armor and weapons aligning one wall.
Standing by the counter was a large figure, a good seven feet or so, whose appearance caught Marc completely off guard. So far he had seen many strangely dressed humans and some bizarre creatures but never had he seen something like this. It was as if a Siberian tiger had half melded with the body of a person, retaining its fur and animal head and features, but taking the human stature, standing upright on its hind legs. It had shiny metal armor covering its right shoulder, metal studded leather bracers, and metal anklets. A thick leather metal studded belt was wrapped around his waist and a green loin cloth hung down to its knees.
The figure turned as they came in.
“Topar, this is our new guest Marc.”
The tiger man bowed his head.
Marc, not knowing really what else to do, bowed his head as well.
Eleanor went to a book on the counter.
“Follow me,” Sesuadra said, “I will show you around.”
They walked down the aisles and turned down the first one.
The tall creature Eleanor had called Topar seemed to watched Marc warily.
There were counters filled with vials and flasks filled with strange colored liquids, some vibrant, some translucent, and even some glowing softly. Others featured scrolls with simple labels like Heavenly Summons, Enchanted Stone, Ice Charm, and ones with strange titles like Aeon Cinedar, Iretara Loremagus, and Akril Darkring.