The HaRT Knight Decaverse

Heir of Magic

Chapter 33

Road to the Hanging City

The journey to Pensilisurbis was monotonous, long, and oddly enjoyable. There was little in the way of excitement like fending off assassins or insect-riding armies, but Alexander found that quite to his liking. Peace had been a rarity in his life ever since the fall of Tír na Angelus, but that just meant that he was even more capable of appreciating it when it came his way. While the daily routine of riding all day only to set up camp come sunset was repetitive, it was not boring. They passed interesting sights like the cevarion City of Bellerophon that was comprised of pyramids and stone masterpieces constructed around a massive oasis in the desert, a battlefield of ancient soldiers all of whom had been turned to stone, and late one night they even saw a spectral ship sail across the dunes as if they were the waves of the ocean. If these sights were not enough to keep his mind busy, Alexander was also expected to practice his geoturgy skills by dragging a boulder next to him as he rode on Bucy. Jared assured him this would help him gain endurance and strength, two skills that would be very important once they moved on to metals.
True to his word, Dante had come up with a slew of punishments for Alexander and Merrick. They were expected to water and rub down all the beasts at the end of a long day’s riding; they could then eat—usually something that was already cold by this point—before they were expected to wash all the pots, pans, and any other cutlery that had been involved in preparing dinner. This task would keep them busy until most of the men were already asleep, and most nights, only Kohr and Dante were still awake by the time they finished. Merrick could then go to bed, but Alexander was still expected to attend lessons with both Kohr and Dante before he would be allowed to go to sleep.
Kohr’s lessons had so far only entailed him telling stories of great ancient battles and making diagrams on the ground with a stick to demonstrate how the generals had maneuvered their troops to ensure victory. After the second week, however, Kohr started to ask Alexander what he would do if he were the commander in the story. More often than not he fell into the same traps as the men in the stories, but on one or two occasions he surprised himself with a strategy that he would never have thought of before Kohr’s lessons.
Dante’s Gate Magic lessons were always conducted quite some distance from the camp, with a silencing spell cast over them so none could overhear. Even though Alexander did not progress as quickly with the gate magic as he did with the ecoturgy branches, Dante assured him he was still progressing much faster than most.
With his lessons for the day complete, Alexander could finally go to sleep only to be woken up three hours later so he, Merrick, and Kohr could spar before the day’s riding. The Silver General quickly robbed the other two men of any disillusionment they might have had in their ‘unbeatable’ skills. It had taken three weeks of training with the general before one of them beat him. Merrick had been the one to do it finally, and Alexander began to suspect that he had yet to see his friend’s true skill.
Kohr preferred to fight with a with a sword a lot longer than was the norm. The thirty-seven-inch blade of the sword was double edged and made from a material that changed color from dark gray to blue depending on how the light hit it. It was mostly unadorned except for the two gemstones—judging by the empty socket in the center there had once been three—set in the cross guard. The stones were a dark red but would turn bright and glow whenever Kohr drew the sword.
“Her name is Durend’art, The Three Miracle Sword,” Kohr said when Alexander finally asked him about the weapon on the third morning of their fourth week of riding. “She once belonged to Barquiel, the hero of Pensilisurbis.”
“Why is it called the Three Miracle Sword?” Alexander asked.
Kohr drew the sword from its scabbard and the blade sung. “The sword was made with powerful magic. It grants its user three miracles.”
“What, you mean like wishes?” Merrick asked.
“It’s not a genie, Merrick,” Kohr shook his head. “As you can see from the one missing stone, I have already used one of my miracles. During the battle of the fallen city when we faced off against your uncle, Alexander. I would have died if not for this sword. Cain used his magic to eviscerate us all, and I too should have died that day, but because of the miracle in this sword, all the magic and chaos that was flying around just missed me.”
Alexander reigned in Bucy and almost caused an accident as the soldier behind him had to swerve to avoid a collision. “You’ve fought Cain before?”
“I thought you knew,” Kohr said. “I came to Primoris because the dhaesí queen of the time had hired the silver legion to avenge her husband who had been killed by Cain.”
“You must have heard of it,” Merrick said. “The people still refer to that time as Maeve’s Wrath. Kohr here nearly wiped the battlefield with Cain’s armies for two years.”
“Until the last one, that is. The one that counted,” Kohr admitted. “No amount of strategy could have prepared us for the power Cain held. As I said, I only survived because of this sword. A septim friend managed to get me out of the Fallen City and to Pensilisurbis, where I met with Dante. I had just about lost hope that Cain could not be defeated when the old man told me about you, Alexander.”
Alexander shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. One more person expecting him to save the world.
Merrick, who was never one for uncomfortable silences, prodded Kohr in the ribs and said, “Well go on then. Show us a miracle with your sword.”
“It’s not a party trick,” Kohr snapped. He pointed at the red gemstones in the guard.
“Besides, I only get three. Once I’ve used all three miracles, this sword will be utterly useless in my hands. According to what I’ve read, it won’t even be able to cut another person as long as I hold it.”
“So basically, what you’re saying is that once you’ve used all three wishes—sorry, miracles—you’ll have to give it to someone new to use?” Merrick said.
“Yes, I am. And no, you can’t be the person I give it to,” Kohr said.
“Oh, come on, why not?” Merrick moaned.
The two of them bickered nonstop about the sword for the next week and until the desolate desert landscape gave way to fields of golden grass and trees that shot up at random intervals. They spent the next month traversing through forests and grasslands that eventually gave way to green covered mountains. This meant they were finally close to their final destination.
In fact, a few days later, when the caravan reached the Whispering—or sometimes the Haunted—Canyon the walls of Pensilisurbis were already viable in the distance. Getting past the canyon, however, would still take another couple of days. The Whispering Canyon was the deepest in all of Anarchos; so deep in fact, that some legends claimed that it went all the way beneath the roots of the World Bearing Tree. Alexander felt certain this was only a myth, however. No one in living memory had ever made it down into the canyon and back up again.
Living memory. I wonder if that’s why people sometimes call it the Haunted Canyon, Alexander thought as he stared down into the darkness as they rode next to it.
But the real reason for the name became clear a few days later while Alexander was feeding the animals. Bucy, like all the other animals, was restless and wanted to be as far away from the canyon as possible.
“Calm down, girl. It’s just a hole in the ground,” Alexander said to the horse.
“Alexander, you need to come to me,” someone whispered.
“Hello?” Alexander said. There was no one in sight except for Merrick who was giggling as he peed into the canyon, apparently a lifelong dream of his.
“I’ve been waiting, Alexander. Come to me, come bow to me, come be with me,” the voice whispered. It was smooth, honeyed, and very alluring.
It’s coming from the canyon, Alexander realized. That’s not possible. Merrick would have heard it as well.
He did not hear the whispers again for the next few days, and deciding that he might come across as either paranoid, scared, or just plain insane, he didn’t tell anyone else about what he had heard either. The feeling that there was something at the bottom of the canyon watching him did not go away over the next few days, in fact, every now and again, he would stare into the shadowy abyss with a feeling that something just out of sight was staring back. Only one thing could drive these thoughts from his mind, and that was the magnificent sight that greeted them when Kohr said they were only two day’s ride away.
The prime race that had vanished never to be heard from again during The War of the Prime had built the Stonelite Bridge. No human or dhaesí architect could ever have built such a massive structure over the deepest and widest canyon in all the world. Enormous spires stretched into the sky at regular intervals, every second spire bearing the image of an enormous stone man.
“Those are depictions of the bridge’s creators,” Dante said as he saw Alexander staring up at the statues.
“That is what Stonelites looked like?” Alexander asked curiously.
“Yes,” Dante nodded.
Alexander frowned at the amorphous figure of the nearest statue. It looked like little more than a mass of boulders stacked on each other to resemble a human form. Nothing like the moondrakes or pride.
The length of the bridge was so vast that it took the procession of men and beast the entire day to cross; in fact, the sun had already set before the end was in sight. It was quite an unnerving feeling with the giant forms of the stonelite statues looming over them in the dark. It almost feels like we’re intruding, Alexander thought, staring back at two of the Stonelite sentinels that crossed their unknown weapons in the air to create a sort of archway at the end of the bridge.
“We will camp here for the night. Tomorrow we will rise early, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m looking forward to getting back home,” Kohr announced as soon as the last horse stepped off the bridge.
The next morning only Alexander was awake before Kohr, who started to wake the men before the sun had even risen.
“Come now; we are nearing the end. Once we are home, you can all have a few pints on me at The Hanging Wombat,” Kohr shook one of the sleeping soldiers awake.
“Ah, a pint or twelve would be well appreciated,” Merrick said enthusiastically, leaping to his feet and grabbing his bundle. He ran to Jared’s draco-equus and stuffed all his things into the saddlebag. Seeing as horses refused to let Merrick ride them, he was forced to share the journey with Jared on his draco-equus, who had its name unceremoniously changed to Binky the Second.
Alexander just shook his head at Merrick, who was now hopping from one foot to the other as if dancing on hot coals.
“You’re going to love the city, Alexander,” Kohr said as they rode side by side an hour later.
“It must be massive. We’ve been able to see the walls for days now,” Alexander mused to himself.
“Like the bridge, the Stonelites built the city. Some believe it might even be the oldest city in the world,” Kohr explained. “Its design is a masterpiece of defensive architecture. In all the millennia it has existed, no one has ever taken it.”
For the rest of the day Alexander’s excitement at seeing the city grew along with the walls as they got ever closer. But these were not the only things to grow as they rode. The closer they came to the walls the stronger the wind became. This is understandable, Alexander thought as his cloak threatened to catch the wind and lift him off his horse. We are, after all, in the Wind Region of Primoris.
It was well past midday when the procession finally came to a stop next to the massive wall. Alexander almost fell off Bucy as he strained his neck to see the top. The guards patrolling at the top were so small they might as well have been ants. No archer would have any hope of getting an arrow up there, especially not with this wind, Alexander thought, as another gust blew his hair up into his face.
“Ready the horn,” Kohr said as they approached a giant gate framed by two enormous statues of stonelite warriors. The statues of the stonelites were almost just as tall as the wall and seemed to look straight at Alexander.
Can something’s eyes follow you around if it technically doesn’t have any eyes, he thought as he stared up at the two sentinel guardians of Pensilisurbis.
As the procession came to a halt in front of the gates, the soldier next to Kohr blew on a horn. Almost immediately, the gates between the stone statues creaked. The excitement was mounting inside Alexander as the gates swung inward to allow them access to the oldest city in the world. As soon as it was open wide enough for two men to pass through, Kohr led the way forward.
Alexander spurred Bucy forward to follow Kohr. To his disappointment, however, he found himself faced with another wall, even taller than the one they had just passed.
“That is exactly the expression this wall is meant to inspire. If an enemy should breach the first wall, they are faced with a second, and they also find themselves trapped between the two. Death will rain down upon any enemies who manage to pass the first wall,” Kohr said.
Alexander started up again and this time saw what looked like rope bridges spanning across the two walls for soldiers to cross over. The vicious winds that blew here, however, swung the bridges from side to side with a ferocious temper. Another horn sounded, and the second pair of gates started to swing open. This time, the gates swung outward towards the procession. The second pair of gates met the first and slid together to form a hallway, wide enough for fifty men to march through abreast.
“Ah, home,” Kohr smiled.
The excitement in Alexander was too much to contain any further, and he galloped forward, leaving Kohr and the rest behind. But disappointment came once again as he rode through the gate. There was no city in sight, just farmlands that stretched to the far-off edge of the cliff that opened onto the wide-open sky.
“This is it?” Alexander asked Kohr.
“Not yet,” Kohr smiled and pointed at a stone archway that was roughly the size of a city inn. “That is the entrance to the city proper.” When Alexander frowned at this, Kohr added, “The city is below us.”
“Below us?” Alexander whispered to himself.
They rode towards the massive stone archway in the distance, passing farm after farm where every farmer greeted them as if they were returning from some glorious conquest. Kohr seemed to know every single person’s name that greeted them and even asked about their children by name. Most of the farmers wanted to give gifts of food or wool upon the Silver General and his men, all of which whereas gracefully refused.
After another hour of riding, they finally reached the large stable yard next to the archway. Guards stood awaiting the return of their General in ordered lines.
“Captain Clarkson. How has the city been in my absence?” Kohr asked a tall soldier fully dressed in armor.
“All is well, sir.” Captain Clarkson looked around uncomfortably, cleared his throat and whispered, “We’ve had to suppress some rumors the king has been spreading about you, sir. They range from everything between, you have deserted the city, to you have gone insane and had to be locked in a dungeon cell.”
Kohr groaned as he leaped from his draco-equus. “Likely retaliation for not returning to the city as soon as he told me to. Anything else to report?”
Alexander stopped listening as the captain delivered his reports. His attention was instead focused on a tomb constructed a few stades off. The marble structure was as large as a two-story house on top of which was built a massive and beautifully detailed statue of a dhaesí warrior that must have been every bit as tall and muscular as Kohr. The fallen warrior had long hair tied into a topknot and a beard that only enhanced his simian features.
This must be Barquiel, Alexander realized as he saw the familiar sword in the statue’s hand. Barquiel stood on the corpse of a creature that had the body of a lion, but instead of a mane of hair, it had a main of spines similar to porcupine quills. Its membranous wings and scorpion like tail hung over the edges of the tomb and onto the ground. The creature had a head that bore a passing resemblance to that of a man but had two horns sticking out of the forehead. Barquiel held another such a head in his free hand, severed from its body. A third such a beast was still alive, or at least had just been killed. It towered over Barquiel who was driving Durend’art through its mouth and out the back of its skull.
“If that’s true, they should have built the guy a much bigger statue. Shade, one as tall as the walls wouldn’t do him justice,” Merrick said as he came up beside Alexander.
“What do you mean?” Alexander asked.
Merrick looked incredulous that Alexander would even have to ask. “Those creatures he’s fighting are manticores, brother.”
“Manticores,” Alexander said. “Yeah, I think I’ve heard of them. They’re supposed to be rather nasty creatures, aren’t they?”
Merrick gave a bitter laugh. “Rather nasty. They’re fucking terrifying. Haven’t you ever heard of the Skeraseram Slaughter?”
“No. I don’t even know where Skeraseram is,” Alexander said.
Merrick shivered. “Where Skeraseram was, you mean. A single manticore killed the entire city’s population. It killed every person in the city; soldiers, nobles, and peasants alike. Once the city was empty, the beast set off after those who had fled. For the next few months the manticore hunted down every survivor of Skeraseram until no one was left.”
“That sounds like a myth, Merrick,” Alexander said.
“No. I assure you it wasn’t. I was there,” Merrick said. “Well, sort of. It happened a few years after I received my curse. I was still looking for a way to die. Then I heard about this group the senate of Skeraseram were gathering to hunt a manticore from the Iron Mountains that had ventured east of the mountains. I joined up with about fifty other people. The group was mostly made up of mercenaries, soldiers, and knights. There were also two druids, a septim wizard, and a group of guys claiming to be hunters from the Order of Profugus—but I suspect they were lying seeing as they were the first ones to die when the manticore fell on us in the middle of the night. You see, brother, manticores are wicked smart and very vengeful. The soldiers in our group had found the beast's lair that day, but it was not there, so they set fire to it. With its lair destroyed, it hunted us down. When it found us, it took only a few minutes for that thing to tear all of us to shreds.” Merrick’s eyes glazed over and a haunted expression took over his face as he said, “That was the closest I ever got to finally dying. I think if it wanted to, it could have killed me. But the look it gave me as I sat with my back against a toppled tree, my guts in my one remaining hand—it was as if it knew I wanted to die, but it only wanted me to suffer.”
“So it went to this Skeraseram city after that?” Alexander asked, tentatively.
“I watched as it seemed to examine the crest on the shield of the soldiers who set fire to its lair, the crest of Skeraseram. Like I said, they’re smart creatures. It knew who sent us and it took its revenge.” Instantaneously, the haunted mask fell away and Merrick laughed as he said, “Good thing manticores are so rare. I spent years looking for another one but I never found one again. If I had, I probably never would have met you, brother.”
“If you two hens are done jabbering, give your beasts to young Hammond over there. He’ll take them to the stables,” Kohr said, pointing to a small young man who was waiting patiently for the last four men to dismount their animals.
Alexander did so and grabbed his pack as the young lad took Bucy hesitantly by the reins.
As Kohr led the way to the stone archway, the wind blew his cloak dramatically that made Alexander think the Silver General looked heroic, his muscular form framed by the stone archway.
“Follow me,” Kohr said as Alexander came up next to him. They made their way down a spiral stairway beneath the arch.
Merrick and Jared were on Alexander’s heels as they all descended the stairway and into the city. At the bottom there was an iron door guarded by two men who saluted their General and opened the door for him.
Kohr gestured for Alexander to pass through first, and as he did, the general said, “Welcome to Pensilisurbis. The Hanging City.”