This gave her pause for thought. 'Did your people construct Lower Levanin?'.
He stopped walking abruptly. 'No, we did not. Lower Levanin was a human construct. What exists of it today.'
She looked at him then, trying to figure out why such an innocuous question had given him pause. She didn't forget that she was still walking on eggshells. 'Have I offended you in some way?'
He waved it off. 'It's nothing. Simply that my memories of Lower Levanin are... unpleasant.'
Ella decided not to press him any further on the matter and continued to follow him onto the main concourse.
The outer walls of the courtyard gave way to a wide open space that featured a large fountain and several benches dotted about the area. A number of older men and women sat discussing something that was seemingly of great importance. Again Ella noticed that they all wore white. She couldn't tell if this was a fashion or some kind of official uniform. She didn't want to ask El-Vador until he felt like talking again.
'The first thing new visitors to upper Levanin notice are the views. Cast your eyes out upon the scene before you and tell me what you see.'
She looked out at the world she had walked into, watching an old man waving his hands vigorously, taking time to appreciate the water glistening in the intricately designed fountain, admiring the strange domed architecture of the buildings in the distance.
'Everything is white,' she said, feeling like this was a stupid observation.
'You are quite correct, everything has a very bright aesthetic, the people's sense of dress tends to be influenced by a mixture of practicality and the surrounding architecture. That wasn't the defining feature of this city. Look closer.'
Squinting in frustration, she couldn't picture anything else in particular that he could be alluding to. Everything seemed so bizarre to her that it could be any number of things.
'Walk with me,' El-Vador finally said when she failed to reply.
They passed the discussion and one of the old men rose from his bench and hobbled over to them. He had a bald head and thick white eyebrows, his jowls were prominent and the loose flesh jiggled as he spoke.
'What do you think Everalm? Is faith in the almighty something to be mandated by the Emperor through the existence of Levanin or would you have these Godless heathens gain access and attempt to... divine,' he chuckled briefly to himself at that word. '...the workings of the underside? Settle this debate for us.'
Ella thought that El-Vador would be annoyed by this intrusion but he gave an uncharacteristic chuckle. 'Dearest Belesdair, faith itself cannot be mandated and it cannot be placed in that which is demonstrable. Were the almighty to unveil himself to the people there would be no need for faith.'
Belesdair wagged his finger at him, cutting El-Vador off mid-speech. Ella grew tense.
'You cannot play your pacifist games with me old fox, not this time. I want a straight answer from you and no evading the question. Would you have the proles venture into the underside? Faithless or not.'
El-Vador seemed to humour him, as if this were a common occurrence. 'The workings of the underside have eluded the greatest minds of the previous generations. Do you really consider someone from the lower caste a threat?'
The old man shuffled awkwardly on the spot, a number of aged faces grinned up at him. 'I suppose you have a point again, as usual. Very well, let them set their filthy feet on hallowed ground, I will shudder upon the sight.'
The conversation seemingly concluded, they continued walking out into the bright expanse of Levanin.
'Everalm?' Ella finally asked.
El-Vador smiled. 'Did you not notice how they addressed only me? We are under what is known as a glamour. As you can see when I travel Levanin I appear as a kindly old man, my actual visage would frighten most of the inhabitants. Look down at your hands.'
She stared at them, again failing to perceive whatever it was El-Vador was trying to show her.
Noticing the confusion on her face, El-Vador spoke again. 'You are invisible, that is why you cannot see your hands. An effect of the glamour I have imposed.'
Ella frowned. 'I can see my hands.'
It was the first time she had seen genuine shock written across his face, she sincerely hoped she hadn't said something horribly wrong.
'Look at me,' he said, turning her to face him. 'What do you see?'
'I see you,' she said uncertainly. 'You're the same as you always look.'
El-Vador passed his eyes over his own hands then in wonder. 'This is most curious. That every other person I have extended my glamour onto has still perceived me as my glamour would dictate and yet you have not.'
'What does that portend?' She asked, intentionally using a word she had picked up from El-Vador's own writings in the hope of gaining a response.
He waved away her question. 'As I said, it is a mild curiosity to be thought over at a later time, I still haven't shown you the distinguishing characteristic of Upper Levanin.'
They reached the end of a row of buildings and it was then that Ella saw it.
There was no discernible horizon, no lands sprawling out in the distance, merely endless blue skies. She tried to speak but words failed her, instead she wandered closer to where the tiled flooring seemed to end.
'Upper Levanin is the last remaining sky city,' El-Vador said as Ella gazed over the edge. A thick blanket of clouds covered the land below. She felt like falling and seeing if they would cushion her, then the vertigo hit her like a brick wall and she staggered backward into El-Vador's arms.
'There are many places in this world beyond your comprehension,' he said quietly, voice dropping to a whisper. 'I want to show you them all.'
He grabbed her by the hand and they plummeted off the edge into the sky below.
82
Garth
The lurching in his stomach told him they had crossed over into the desert now, that and the sudden wave of heat.
Mayer had cooled considerably after his refusal to join the recruitment drive in the inn, speaking only when spoken to and discussing tactics with none of the previous enthusiasm. More often than not he would abandon the carriage entirely and sit up front with the rest of the men. Garth could hear them chatting away indistinctly, he wanted no part of their merriment and was quite happy that such an irritating man now chose to avoid him.
The traversing of the desert was considerably more difficult than the well-maintained roads they had previously been on. Garth stared out the window at the endless sea of dunes, so this is where he had been brought to die. So be it, if he was going to die here then he would do so with his head held high and taking as many of the opposing force with him as possible.
He spotted the first of many white tents roll past, it made sense that the encampment was near the gate, that way there would be fresh supplies of reinforcements thrown straight into the fray rather than having to march several days in this heat to make it to base.
Garth just hoped that the camp wasn't overrun, it would bode ill for the Empire if the enemy discovered their gate network.
The carriage finally groaned to a halt, the horses were clearly new to this journey as they protested about the heat vigorously. The driver took their reigns and offered them both feed bags, assuring them in a quiet voice that they'd be home soon. Garth liked the man, who also seemed as wearied by Mayer's presence and a bemused spectator to their recruitment practices. He only hoped there would be an abundance of good men in the camp.
He looked down at his feet then, realising that they still stood on the lip of the carriage, the sand beneath him was oddly shaded and utterly still. He took a deep breath of the humid air and planted his foot down upon the Sah'kel desert. He sensed this was the only respite he was going to get from here on in.
A pair of guards flanking either side of the tent gave a sloppy salute as he and Mayer approached the entrance. Garth stopped in his tracks upon witnessing this.
'You, soldier,' he said, pointing his finger at the man. 'What's
your name?'
'Inglewood sir,' the muffled reply came from under the closed helm.
The name caused a faint spark of recognition to flare within him. Garth came closer to the man then, towering over him. 'Do you know who I am, Inglewood?'
The guard nodded. 'You are our new superior officer, sir.'
Garth's hands shot out and clamped themselves on the man's helm, tearing it off and causing him to lose all composure. 'You will remove your helm when addressing a superior officer, soldier!' he bellowed at him. 'Now, who am I, Inglewood?'
The guard looked shaken, he clearly wasn't expecting this. 'You are our commanding officer, sir.' He snapped a much smarter salute after this, a minor improvement at least.
'What is my name, soldier?' Garth asked, shoving his nose up in the man's face.
'I... don't know sir,' Inglewood replied, stumbling over the words with a look of terror plain upon his face.
Garth turned his back on the man, eyeing Mayer who was seemingly as shocked as the soldier. 'He doesn't know my name... why doesn't he know my name?' He approached the other guard.
'Do you know my name, soldier?'
The man tore his helm off so quickly Garth suspected he'd sprained his neck. 'Sir, no sir!' He rapped a crisp salute and fear was apparent in his eyes.
'As you were soldier,' Garth replied, returning to the previous man.
'So, Inglewood. Why is it that neither of you know my name?'
Mayer stepped forward. 'General, if I could be permitted to...'
'Silence!' Garth barked, though he noticed the flash of irritation across Mayer's features. He'd have to keep an eye on that.
'Well soldier, why don't you know my name?'
Inglewood was clearly trying his best not to quiver on the spot. 'We have not received orders about your identity... General?'
The tone of the question was one of disbelief, they most certainly weren't expecting their replacement to be a General. Perhaps they were anticipating someone like Mayer, which would explain the lackadaisical attitudes.
'That's right soldier, I am a General. General Garth of the first battalion. What do you have to say about that?'
Inglewood met him in the eyes for the first time. 'General Garth? My father had many... interesting things to say about you sir.'
Garth smirked. 'You're the son of Castor Inglewood, aren't you?'
'Sir, yes sir!'
'How is the old dog these days?'
Inglewood seemed to relax slightly. 'He's as crabby and opinionated as ever sir. Said I should get out here and learn what it was like to have sand in my crotch.'
A smile touched Garth's lips. 'Tell me private. Are you as crabby and opinionated as your old man?'
He saw the panic in the young boy's eyes. 'I want an honest answer private.'
The panic turned to resignation and an audible sigh. 'Yes sir, everyone claims I am my father's son.'
'Good!' Garth replied, slapping the boy on the back and nearly sending him sprawling into the sand.
'I look forward to hearing your opinions son, don't hold back.'
Inglewood smiled for the first time. 'Sir, no sir!'
Garth noted the disapproval on Mayer's face as they marched into the tent.
A bald man in a strange white shirt greeted them with an obsequious smile.
'Welcome to Sah'kel, General Garth and Colonel Mayer! I am Sisead, the Emperor's representative for this area. My task is to act as liaison between those involved in war and the powers within Levanin.'
Garth immediately disliked the corpulent man, there was something slimy about his overly-friendly attitude. Then again, ignoring the man would probably do more harm than good.
He shook Sisead's soft hand firmly and tried not to let his thoughts betray him. 'A pleasure to meet you, Sisead. I hope our working relationship can be mutually beneficial.'
Sisead nodded, all smiles. 'Should the Emperor and his advisers have any further instructions for you I shall relay them to you immediately.' He took a look at the map sprawled out on the table. 'You appear to have much work to do, I shall show myself out. A pleasure meeting you both.'
Mayer walked over to the huge map that seemed ten times larger than the one Garth had studied in the carriage and blew a thin layer of sand off it. 'Shall we?'
Garth nodded, it was time to get down to work.
83
Gadtor
'Who are you?' Gadtor asked the darkness.
If Thom had heard him he didn't deign to respond.
'I know you claim to be a local Warden for a small area outside of Urial. I've seen local Wardens though, they're small and petty bullies that tend to let their henchmen do the work.'
Still no response.
'Yet you rode out to Urial alone, unaided and still carrying a noticeable limp from some previous confrontation. That's not something a simple Warden would do.'
Gadtor was beginning to feel like he'd not get much change out of this conversation. 'Look, we're both going to die shortly after this journey is over. We may as well die knowing who the other person was, it's not like my knowing will make any difference to your situation now.'
Thom shifted position, he had a habit of doing that when Gadtor asked a question. 'If it doesn't matter whether you know or not, why should I bother telling you anything? Why don't you tell me all about who you are instead and I'll pretend to listen.'
Gadtor sighed. 'Very well then.'
He uncrossed his legs, trying to prevent the pins and needles that were stealing over them. He had heard of men losing limbs from their time in captivity simply from not moving. Something to do with the blood flow.
'I grew up in a small town off the Ittibaen coastline, have you heard the phrase “as fresh as an Ittibean catch?”'
Thom was silent. Gadtor continued, feeling slightly foolish.
'We were a border town back then, before the grand expansion swallowed us. Time was you could make a decent living on fresh catch alone, no need for a second trade or blood money. It was an honest trade and one my father excelled at. I still remember coming home after a hard day's work on the lines to a baked fish pie and a rest well-earned.'
'So if you're a fisherman's boy, why are you heading out into the desert with me?'
Gadtor blanched, was he being mocked? He decided to ignore the potential jibe.
'Things changed of course, they always do. The war broke out and a lot of us got drafted and the rest were forced into supplying the armies for a meagre subsidy. I wasn't old enough to fight in the wars so I ended up working on the nets in my father's stead.'
'Which army did you supply?' Thom asked.
Gadtor paused, wondering how the man would react to this answer, then remembered the reason he was talking in the first place. They were both dead, it didn't matter now if he ruffled any feathers.
'I supplied the Empire's armies but supported the rebels.'
Thom nodded. 'I'm beginning to see why you caused such civil unrest again Kelgrimm in Urial. They took your father from you, didn't they?'
He was surprised by the man's measured response, surely Thom had fought in the wars against the very rebels Gadtor claimed to have supported? Maybe he thought it was pointless conflicting over it too.
'Losing my father wasn't the reason I supported the rebellion, what he told me was. How he'd come home bloody and beaten for not exporting his stock. The times they'd send a pair of toughs around to intimidate my mother when he was out on the lines. They did everything short of kill our family to make him submit to their will, he kept refusing.'
'So he was a man of principle then, good,' Thom replied.
'I asked him why he didn't just accept their money, it was more than we could possibly earn on our own and it wasn't like we'd be doing anything different to earn it. He turned to me then with this look in his eyes, like he was haunted by something. I had no idea what it was he had seen that scared him so, being young and naïve. He looked at me and he said that if we accepted the money from the Emp
ire we'd be no better than those who committed the acts to earn it.
I didn't understand at the time of course just what he meant by those words but when war came calling I found out the true extent of their butchery.'
Thom stopped him there. 'You were a child slave from the years of war, weren't you?'
Gadtor nodded. 'I did my part for the rebels like my Dad told me to, most of us were sympathetic to their cause. Then the Empire got wind of it and set a torch to the whole town. They burnt it all to the ground and sold the rest of us into slavery. I screamed at them as they set torch to our family home, told them my father was enlisted, even showed them the papers. They wouldn't listen, they had their orders and they carried them out with a self-satisfaction that sickened me to my core.'
Gadtor waited for the apology, none was coming.
'I don't like to recall much of my time as a slave, eventually I was bought by a man called Falarus. He took me to his town called Urial and I fell in love with it. It was strangely like coming home after a long and painful nightmare. Then Kelgrimm took power after the great expansion and things started to go wrong once again. The stench of the Empire was all over his rule and that was how the formation of the Black Quail began, only to end futilely after we encountered that thing.'
Thom seemed to be paying much closer attention now. 'El-Vador. What did it do to you that finally brought you to heel?'
He didn't appreciate the term, it made him sound like a servile dog. 'I was convinced that Falarus wasn't the man he claimed to be. That he had hidden a great many things from me and that those invalidated everything I thought I knew of the man.'
Thom leaned forward. 'Did his demonstration involve other people?'
'Other people?' Gadtor frowned. 'Well yes, there were three others brought into the room.'
There was a long pause, then a sigh from Thom. 'I don't particularly like you, I find you abrasive, cocksure and misguided in the extreme. In spite of this even you deserve to know the truth.'
Gadtor didn't like where this was going. 'What truth?'
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