The City of Pillars

by Joshua P. Simon

  “What happens if we aren’t able to get back into the city at a later point?”

  “I don’t know. That’s a problem I’d rather worry about if it presents itself. My most immediate concern is staying alive.”

  “What about Jewel?”

  He frowned. “Your horse?”

  “Yes.”

  Rondel had forgotten completely about their mounts. Both were good animals they had picked up as a reward for helping destroy the Cult of Sutek. He really didn’t have much of an attachment to his. To Rondel, the animal was nothing more than a means of travel. Andrasta on the other hand, had grown fond of hers.

  “We’ll have to leave the horses here.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Again, we don’t have a choice. We quartered them at a stable under an alias and paid several months in advance for their upkeep. They’ll be fine. We can always pick them up when we’re done.”

  Andrasta scowled, jamming the last piece of bread in her mouth. She chewed and with a mouthful of food, swore. Rondel knew she had begun to see the sense in agreeing with him.

  “Fine. But we still need to find out what’s the blasted job.”

  “Agreed. Shadya?” Rondel called.

  The woman re-entered the room. “Yes?”

  “We’re yours. What’s the job?”

  “A group of bandits stole something from my family. I must get it back from them.”

  “What did they steal?” asked Andrasta.

  The room glowed a bright blue, faded to purple, then pulsed twice before dimming low.

  Shadya gasped, eyes darting along the wall while studying the wards. “No time.” Shadya said, throwing things into a bag. “We need to leave.”

  “What was that?” Rondel asked, helping Andrasta to her feet.

  “The watch is looking in this part of the city again. They have several powerful sorcerers with them. More than I expected. My wards will not hold much longer. We need to go.”

  * * *

  After grabbing some things from her apartment, Shadya led them into an alley. Rondel’s heart raced knowing that he no longer had the protection of the apartment’s wards.

  He must have worn his worry too boldly for when Shadya turned back, she smiled.

  “You’ll be fine.” She gestured to the small amulet she had slipped on him before leaving. Andrasta wore one as well. “As long as you keep those on and we keep moving, it will confuse those looking for you.”

  “Then let’s keep moving,” said Andrasta.

  Rondel glanced over his shoulder, noting the sour look on his partner’s face. Andrasta looked better since taking food and water, but was still not her old self. He knew she hated depending on the aid of others, yet once again, they found themselves at the mercy of someone they barely knew.

  I can only hope this ends as well as it did with Jahi and Dendera.

  “Pay attention to where you’re going,” Andrasta said.

  Rondel realized he had been staring at her.

  Shadya came to a halt at the corner of a building, peering out slowly for trouble.

  She had veiled her face and head. However, the details of the woman’s beauty came easily to mind. He remembered Andrasta’s implied statements that he would do anything for an attractive woman and grew angry, more at himself than at his partner. Though Rondel found himself pleasantly recalling his conversations with Shadya, the woman’s appearance was what originally drew his attention.

  Old habits die hard. What did Andrasta tell me once while we trained? “Habits make you predictable. Easy to manipulate. Habits are the downfall of every warrior.”

  Advice that can be applied to just about anything.

  His eyes drifted down her body, covered in the loose black robes. His chest tightened and his heart beat faster. The abayah left everything to one’s imagination, and Rondel had quite the overactive mind.

  Is an appreciation for women such a bad habit?

  “Quietly,” Shadya whispered, darting across the street and into another alley.

  They made several more turns until stopping near a stable.

  “Wait here,” said Shadya.

  She moved ahead and spoke with the stable hand for a few moments. Once he entered the stable, she gestured them over.

  “Hide by those barrels and slip into the wagon when the boy pulls it forward.”

  “That’s the plan?” protested Andrasta. “We hide in the back of a wagon.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a dumb idea. They’ll search the wagon.”

  “The underside of the wagon is warded. The guards will see nothing but an empty wagon bed and a couple random sacks and barrels.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “We don’t have much of a choice,” said Rondel.

  Sounds of the wagon approaching came from inside the stable.

  “Hide,” Shadya hissed.

  Rondel yanked Andrasta’s arm, and the two crouched behind the barrels. When the boy brought the camel-led wagon out, he stopped and climbed down. Shadya casually turned the stable hand to the side while paying him.

  Rondel guided Andrasta out and eased into the wagon bed. Despite their best efforts to be quiet, it creaked under their weight.

  “What was that?” asked the boy.

  Andrasta slid loose her dagger.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” said Shadya.

  “No. There was something. Let me check.”

  The boy appeared at the back of the wagon wearing a frown. Rondel kept Andrasta from lunging forward with the dagger. The boy stared at them with indifference. He shrugged, then walked away. “My apologies. I guess it was nothing.”

  Shadya climbed into the driver’s seat. “Thank you.”

  She clicked the reins and the wagon began to roll. Softly, she called over her shoulder. “There should be a blanket. Drape it over yourselves. It’s also warded and will give you added protection. The guards will be more skeptical than the boy.”

  Underneath the blanket, Andrasta still held her dagger, gripping the hilt so tightly the brown skin on her hands lightened.

  “Relax,” he whispered.

  “I’ll relax when we’re out of the city.”

  “Keep your voices down,” whispered Shadya. “The wards don’t mask noise.”

  The journey through Zafar took even longer than Rondel had imagined. Based on the constant twists and turns, it seemed Shadya bypassed the high-traffic areas. However, guards still stopped them numerous times along their way off the plateau of the upper city.

  Guards asked the same questions at each check point, using the same cadence so that Rondel wondered if they all read from a prepared script.

  After a couple hours of slow progress, the bump of cobbled stones gave way to smoother roads. Rondel could not have been happier as he needed to relieve himself and each bounce played havoc on his bladder.

  The leveling out of the road also brought a sudden wave of heat that washed over them. Leaving the shade of the city’s tightly packed buildings, tiny rays of sunlight penetrated the blanket they hid under.

  We’re approaching the gate. Almost there.

  The wagon lurched to a stop, then gradually inched forward, halting again periodically as Shadya waited her turn with the guards.

  Under the sun, Rondel’s discomfort grew. Sweat beaded on his skin and chafed under his clothes. It took everything he had not to reflexively wipe his brow. However, he dared not make the slightest of movements lest a brush of cloth against wood alert the guards to their presence. He spared a glance at Andrasta who lay perfectly still except for the occasional blink.

  He wondered what occupied her thoughts.

  Probably planning out a thousand scenarios if we’re discovered, all working out how to cause the most number of deaths. His smile parted into a nervous grin. And all I can think about is taking a leak.

  He sniffed the air, suddenly aware that the awful aroma came from them. Neither had bathed in days. And only Rondel h
ad a chance to clean up at all.

  The wards don’t mask sound, but I hope to the gods they close nostrils.

  A voice that sounded like gravel, hoarse from a day’s worth of questions rose above the dozens of other random conversations held by those pressing toward the gates of Zafar.

  “Name.”

  “Shadya Wasem.”

  “Why are you leaving Zafar?”

  God, it sounds as though he’s actually holding rocks in his mouth.

  “I’m to meet my husband in Thaj.”

  “What’s your husband doing in Thaj?”

  “Business.”

  “What sort of business?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No,” said Shadya in a lowered voice. Rondel imagined her bowing her head, appearing as submissive as possible. She played the part well in public. Rondel thought he saw a slight shake of Andrasta’s head. His partner hated how women were treated in Erba even more than he did.

  In order not to offend the local men of the city, Rondel had to convince Andrasta to pretend she was a male by wearing a man’s headdress and face covering. By disguising her voice and letting Rondel do most of the talking, they had been able to fool most. Those who suspected or even knew the truth, didn’t seem to care since she was not a local.

  “What are you taking to your husband?” continued the guard.

  “Sacks of wheat. Several barrels of olives. A few other smaller items.”

  “An odd mix,” said the guard. Rondel could tell from his voice that the man had begun to circle the wagon. “Why does he need them? Especially when he could purchase such things in Thaj.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You may go.” Rondel thought, imagining the next response that followed these questions.

  “You don’t ever question your husband’s requests?”

  Crap. This is new.

  Andrasta noticed the same. Her breathing changed ever so slightly.

  “Never,” replied Shadya.

  “Even though he’s sending you on a four-day journey in order to deliver what seems like trivial items.”

  “Never,” she repeated.

  The guard grunted. “And you’re traveling by yourself too. A dangerous thing for a small woman to do on her own. And a risky thing for any husband to command his wife. Many things can happen on the road.”

  Rondel glanced down to Andrasta’s hand. It worked the dagger hilt hard.

  “Hubul will protect me,” said Shadya.

  “I hope he does,” said the guard. A long pause followed. “You may go.”

  The wagon rolled forward. Minutes later, Shadya called over her shoulder. “We’re out of the city. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to reveal yourselves.”

  Rondel relaxed, but only slightly.

  He still had to pee.

  CHAPTER 6

  Traffic lessened the farther out from Zafar they traveled. They spoke sparingly during the first hour or two except when Rondel begged a stop to relieve himself behind an outcropping of large orange rock. Rock and sand was about all one could expect to find away from the cities of Erba unless one happened upon an oasis or watering hole.

  It wasn’t until much later when the roads emptied that he left the back of the wagon permanently and moved beside Shadya. Andrasta remained in the wagon’s bed, refusing to take her eyes off the road behind them.

  Sometime later he asked Andrasta. “Worried they still might come after us? Or just angry we had to leave the city?”

  “Both.”

  Rondel chose to distract them all with a suggestion of food.

  Still on the dry, dusty road, they ate a meal of bread, dates, and olives, sipping on water between bites.

  Once finished, he offered conversation. “Shadya, tell us more about this job.”

  “Of course. I suppose I should start at the beginning.” The hint of a smile vanished as she cleared her throat. “My family has always been nomadic. We were traveling through the eastern edge of the Empty-Hand Desert near the Jabal Mountains. One night bandits attacked us.” She paused. “They killed everyone and stole everything of value. They burned the rest. One of the items stolen was of great importance. Something I must get back.”

  “Why?”

  “The why is not important.”

  “It’s all important,” said Andrasta.

  “No,” Shadya said quickly, her tone sharp. “It’s not. What. How. Where. Those things are important. My desire for the item is not.”

  Rondel could sense Andrasta ready to protest and stepped in. “All right. We can respect that. Let’s start with the ‘what.’ What is this heirloom?”

  “It’s a gold mask.”

  “Something that can be worn over the face?”

  “Yes.”

  “At least it’s not something large.”

  “When was the mask stolen?” asked Andrasta.

  “Several weeks ago,” Shadya said.

  “Then how do you know these bandits still have it? It could have been sold whole or melted down and turned into a hundred other items.”

  “They still have it. There are wards built within the mask that I can track.”

  “That should make things easier,” said Rondel.

  “Easier. But not easy,” said Shadya. “They do have sorcerers in their group.”

  Great.

  Rondel took a deep breath. “Is this mission only about stealing the mask or is revenge also involved? Revenge isn’t something we really do.”

  “We’ve killed people before,” said Andrasta.

  “No. I’ve killed people before. You’ve slaughtered them.”

  She shrugged.

  “Besides,” Rondel continued. “There’s a difference between killing as part of a job and killing as the job. One is collateral damage. The other is assassin’s work. We aren’t assassins.”

  “You won’t have to worry about that. Though I won’t shed a tear for any that die, I’m not after revenge. I just want the mask,” said Shadya.

  “That must be some mask,” said Rondel.

  “It is,” she said softly.

  Something about distant tone in her voice sent a shiver down his back.

  “Who are the bandits?” asked Andrasta.

  Shadya hesitated. “They’re called Hubul’s Host.”

  Rondel swore. “You’ve got to be joking!”

  “As a foreigner, I’m surprised you’ve heard of them.”

  “I’ve traveled all over Untan. I know the stories about Hubul’s Host.”

  “I don’t,” said Andrasta in a way that meant someone should fill her in.

  Rondel sighed. “Bandits don’t really describe them properly. They’re extremists, devoted to the father of the Erban gods named Hubul. Everything they do is done to serve him. They steal, kill, maim, and a whole lot more if you believe the stories—all because they believe it to be his will.”

  “Not another cult,” muttered Andrasta.

  “No. Not a cult. They’re more like a deranged family that operates as a mercenary company. Except they’re not really mercenaries. They don’t take contracts and everything they do is done only with Hubul in mind. And they are highly skilled.”

  “How many?”

  “Currently between sixty and eighty, I think,” chimed in Shadya.

  “That’s a small mercenary company,” said Andrasta.

  “The rumor is that they’ve trimmed the ranks as of late,” said Rondel, growing agitated at the prospect of meeting the group. “Only the best fighters are allowed to join. And that’s after proving their skills and devotion to Hubul are adequate.”

  “Seems like some local king would raise an army and wipe them out if they’re such a threat.”

  “It’s been tried before,” said Shadya. “Either those armies have trouble locating Hubul’s Host, or they simply never return. These are not small forces either. The largest to go off in search of the Host and never be heard from again num
bered eleven thousand.”

  “There’s actually a song about them.” Rondel said.

  “Raise an army, or two

  Hubul’s Host will laugh at you.

  Raise a nation or two

  Only then will Hubul’s Host consider you.

  Come with your army

  And Hubul’s Host will hide.

  Come with your nation

  And you will die.”

  “So they only fight when they feel challenged. Otherwise they’ll hide because you aren’t even worth their time.” Andrasta grunted. “Sounds like my kind of people.” She frowned at Shadya. “If these people are so good, how did you escape?”

  Rondel raised an eyebrow. A fair point.

  “I was away fetching water with my younger sister when the attack came. We ran back to camp when we heard the commotion. There was no way I could stop the Host and I had my sister to protect. So, we hid in the rocks. I had that warded blanket you hid under with me. I also made more wards in the dirt around us. It was enough.”

  “So, your wards were strong enough to best these sorcerers?” asked Andrasta.

  “I’ve always had a talent for warding and my skills have been improving. They also thought they had killed everyone. Alone, I can’t defeat them all. That’s why I need your help.”

  “What happened to your sister?” asked Rondel. “Will we meet up with her?”

  Shadya looked away, wiping her cheek. “No. The bandits left us no food, no camels or horses to travel with. My sister died of thirst as we walked to the nearest town. Turning rock into food and water cannot be done with wards.”

  * * *

  Andrasta rode quietly in the back, letting Rondel and Shadya continue to chat about an awful lot of nothing. She had tried to sleep, but soon gave up with the constant braying going on at the front of the wagon. Doing her best to block out the mindless chatter, she stared out at the unforgiving landscape of rock and sand. She knew of nothing that compared to the seemingly endless dead land of Erba.

  It almost made her long for Juntark with its wild plains and lush jungles. Her home was a beautiful land forever tainted by those who inhabited it. She could live her whole life and be content to never return, but she knew she would eventually have to go back.

  I have promises to keep.