by Layton Green
Except for the shopkeepers sweeping the streets in front of their establishments, the city was calm. Scores of drunks slept in doorways, and a man dragging a burlap sack collected broken bottles with a set of iron pincers.
In the general store, Mateo bought a map for a silver florin, which Will had learned was equal to one tenth of a gold piece. An exorbitant price for a worn piece of parchment, but given the dearth of shops in Praha, they were lucky to have found one at all. He also picked up some blank parchment and a silver pencil with extra lead, almost laughing out loud at the thought of mapping an actual adventure. It brought him back to winter nights by the fire as a kid, sprawled out on the floor with his friends, crafting nefarious dungeons on graph paper to explore.
As soon as they left the store, everyone crowded around as Will unfurled the map on the ledge of an ornate fountain that had long stopped flowing. Though disappointed by the lack of detail, he stared in fascination at the rough outline of the city. Running north to south, the river dissected Praha like the faded scar in the middle of Mala’s forehead. The shopkeeper had pointed out the section in which they stood, an area called Burgher’s Blight on the eastern side of the river. At the northern edge of the map, the river made almost a closed loop, a reverse C. The mysterious Old City lay inside that loop, bounded by a high wall. A black citadel loomed right in the middle of the Old City, and a sprawling area called the Agora, marked by a jumble of broken columns, butted up against the curve in the river.
Miles and miles of wasteland surrounded Burgher’s Blight, interrupted by the occasional temple, graveyard, tower, or other landmark. Isolated districts dotted the city on both sides of the river, all with colorful names: Aganon’s Demise, Ye Olde Ruined Bower, Pilferer’s Pantry, Corner of Broken Souls. Will pulled his eyes away from the tantalizing mysteries of the map, dungeons and crypts and shadowy areas marked by question marks or danger signs. He concentrated on the docks, located several miles downriver from the Old City.
“Lucka,” Dalen muttered, “it’s a long way from here.”
Will studied the legend of the map and made some scale calculations. “It’s only about three miles as the crow flies. Though since few streets are marked, we’ll have to find our way through, and who knows how long that will take.”
“Or what else we’ll stumble upon,” Mateo said darkly.
Yasmina planted her staff. “Can we not hire a guide to the Nilometer? Perhaps Tiny can help?”
“Not a bad idea,” Will said.
They returned to the tavern and told Tiny what they needed, causing him to grimace and shake his leonine head. “Plenty of willing guides be cozying up to my bar, though only a handful know the city well enough to help. The problem is knowing who to trust—and trust, me new friends, is as rare in this city as a barrel full of azantite. Give me a few days, though, and I’ll try to sort you out.”
Will exchanged a glance with the others. Time was one commodity they did not have. “What if you had to choose today? Right now?”
“Then I suppose that’d be Trigell Kolivar. He just returned from the Flats and is eager for coin. I’d say with him,” Tiny lifted a palm and shrugged, “you’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of being led into a trap.”
Will rolled his eyes. He was getting the hint. They were simply too new in Praha to trust a mercenary guide they didn’t know. It made him question asking Skara for help, but Mala had vouched for her, and they could cross that bridge when they came to it.
“We’ll go ourselves,” Will said. “How dangerous is the journey to the docks?”
Tiny prepped the garnish tray as he talked. “About as safe as any in Praha, I suppose. Which isn’t saying much. You’ve got a map, you say?”
“We do.”
“Let’s see it.”
Will unrolled the map on the bar, and Tiny bent over it. With a stubby finger, he traced a rough path from Burgher’s Demise to the docks, pointing out landmarks and showing them the areas to avoid. “I hope you’ve got a good memory, because the city’s a maze.”
“We’ll get by,” Will said. Better to be stuck in a maze than rolled by our own guide.
Tiny stuck a plate of beer pretzels on the bar for the group to munch on. “A couple of things, then. Never go inside any building you’re unfamiliar with. Which, I suppose, is all of them. Avoid contact with strangers, especially outside the settled portions. Watch out for sewer entrances and traps laid by thieves. And most of all, under any circumstance, don’t find yourselves out after dark.”
As they entered the marrow of the city, weapons drawn and nerves on a razor’s edge, Will found himself questioning his ability to lead, and wished Mala was there to guide them. That train of thought led to an ache deep inside. The doubt, the uncertainty, the thrill, the passion. God, how alive he felt with her. How right. He knew she wasn’t perfect, but her imperfections only made her more desirable in his eyes. More human. He felt as if he knew the Mala that no one else did, knew her better than she knew herself. The spark of goodness behind the armor.
Leave it behind, Will. Distractions will only get you killed.
With a deep breath, he pushed forward, keenly aware of the position of the sun. Three miles across the city. How hard could that be?
Once they left Burgher’s Blight, the city resembled the section in which they had first arrived. Rubble and debris and the occasional pile of bones littered streets that curved through contiguous buildings of granite and marble rising high overhead like the walls of a canyon, colossal basilicas and sweeping cracked arches and towers that kissed the heavens. As before, walkways and aerial bridges of all sorts spanned the tops of the monolithic buildings, a plague-blackened vision of gloom under a sky perpetually thick with clouds.
After reaching the first landmark Tiny had given them, a trio of spires in the center of a courtyard jutting upward like a colossal fork, Will stopped to take out his pencil and parchment. “I’m already confused.”
“What kind of city planner made a mess like this?” Yasmina said.
“My guess?” Will said, looking skyward in awe. “One who planned it from the top down. I think they made the buildings and the walkways in the sky, and then the streets on the ground came later, as the need arose.”
Everyone’s gaze roamed skyward, thinking about the implications of his words.
What kind of beings had once called this city home?
Will made a smudge near the right-center edge of the paper to denote their starting point. According to Tiny, the docks lay due west from their position. At least the map should give them a general sense of direction.
Their first encounter came when they ducked into a jagged hole someone had made in the rear wall of a courtyard. When the street dead-ended in the direction they wished to go, they decided to risk the shortcut. As soon as Will clambered through, something snatched him off the ground, causing him to drop the handle of his shield. He recoiled in the grip of a hairy, eight-foot tall humanoid with a bulbous nose, flabby but enormously strong arms, and knuckles that dragged the ground. Its head was elongated like a crocodile’s, teeth bristling from a slavering jaw, and its bulging belly looked as if it still contained its last meal. The creature squeezed Will in its one-armed grip and bounded away before the others could get through the hole.
“Help!” he managed to roar as he fought to free his sword arm, gagging at the stench of the thing. He could see maggots writhing in the coarse, matted hair.
The monster bounded towards another hole torn out of a ziggurat the size of a city block. The thing’s lair might encompass the entire building, Will realized in terror. He couldn’t let it carry him inside.
“Will!” Mateo shouted. Dalen cast a spell, a rapid-fire blast of colored light that exploded like fireworks, right in the monster’s face. Neither slowed the creature, though Dalen’s light show did cause Will to lose his vision for a few moments. Thanks, buddy.
When his eyesight cleared, Will saw the monster grasping onto an iron beam to pull itself throu
gh the hole in the ziggurat. Inside, he saw a darkened interior littered with bones and discarded weapons. Gurgling and the scrabble of tiny claws arose in the darkness, and he looked at the creature and its distended belly with new eyes. Is this thing pregnant?
The thought that he might be the next meal for a bunch of slavering, tiny hairy monsters gave him a burst of adrenaline. He threw his legs up and wrapped them around the iron pole, crossing his ankles and clamping on for dear life. When the monster tried to yank him off, he felt as if his arms would come out of their sockets. The others shouted his name as they sprinted down the street after him.
The scrabbling in the darkness drew closer. Will grew more and more desperate. When the monster reached up with its free arm to pry him lose, Will reared back as hard as he could with his head, catching it under its jaw. It shrieked and let go. Will dropped off the pole, reaching for his sword as he crash-landed on his back. The fall had knocked the wind from him, and he gasped as he struggled to his feet, dizzy from the head butt. The creature swung a long arm and raked its claws across Will’s chest, shredding the front of his leather armor. He freed his sword at the same time five smaller versions of the beast emerged from the interior of the ziggurat, salivating with hunger. They were the size of small monkeys.
The larger monster was right in front of him. Will whipped his sword down, trying to slice through its chest, but the creature’s left arm came up shockingly fast and gripped him by the wrist. He booted it in the stomach and jerked on his sword to free it. The creature rushed forward, clawed arms extended, as Will feinted and took a step backwards, towards the hole. He wanted to dive out to the street but knew that if he turned his back, the monster would tear him apart.
The fastest of the children was steps away, and it launched itself at Will. Despite the threat to his life, he couldn’t bring himself to kill it, so he used the flat of his sword to smack it away. Worried the distraction had given the mother an opening, Will spun to find that a much larger monster had appeared out of nowhere, a serpentine body with red scales and a gaping maw so wide it caused Will’s knees to quiver as he backed away.
A dragon? Where had that come from?
Eldritch wings furled at its side, its sinewy form stretching into the darkness, the legendary beast turned its baleful gaze on the creature that had grabbed Will, causing it to scamper away in fear.
Before Will had a chance to ponder why the dragon hadn’t moved or why the hairy creatures seemed so surprised to find another occupant in their lair, a pair of strong hands pulled him through the hole and into the light of day.
“An illusion,” Mateo whispered, as he handed Will his shield. “Run.”
Will didn’t need any urging. Beside them, Dalen was staring intently into the hole, hands waving and mouth whispering. At Yasmina’s urging, Dalen turned and followed the others as they sprinted back into the courtyard. Moments later, they heard a roar of irritation, followed by desperate scrabbling on stone. The party ran for their lives, heedless of where they were going, dashing down the clearest streets they could find.
Heaving with exertion, Will put a stop to the retreat with a raised hand. Once he caught his breath, he clasped Dalen on the shoulder. “You saved my life.”
“How did you do that?” Yasmina marveled.
Though Dalen’s eyes shone with pride, his expression was grim. “Queen fortune and the cover of darkness, that’s how. That illusion is far from ready. Aike, we’re lucky those things were dumb enough not to question how a red dragon appeared suddenly in their lair.”
Will gave a rueful grin. “Color me stupid as well, Dalen. Trust me, when a monster like that appears out of nowhere, your first thought is not now where is that pesky illusomancer? Are you sure you didn’t accidentally summon a real one?”
“It did look authentic. Maybe the weird magic here enhanced the illusion. Lucka, I don’t know. I’m just glad it worked.”
Everyone heaped on more praise, which caused the little mage to blush. After the party took a drink of water, Will searched his map for the route they had followed before the attack. He thought they had fled parallel to the street leading to the ziggurat, but he couldn’t seem to find the way back.
He frowned down at the graph paper. “I suppose I’ll have to start again.”
Mateo glanced at the sky. “Tis midday already. With this cloud cover, I fear an early sunset.”
Sobered by the thought of being stuck in no-man’s land after dark, they hurried forward, working their way westward as best as they could. The curving streets were maddening, zigzagging across the city with no apparent reason and dead-ending at courtyards or into the sides of buildings. Though Will’s map saved them from running in circles, progress was slow, and the faint halo of sun behind the clouds seemed to sink faster than they could gain ground. As they passed a deserted block of buildings, Will thought he heard a slithering sound, and stopped to pinpoint it.
After cocking her head to listen, Yasmina pointed at a rectangle of open space beneath the lip of marble curb that lined the road. They had seen these openings before, on almost every road, and speculated they served as entrances to the city’s sewer system.
They backed away, nervously eying the opening. Yet as they continued walking, they heard the sound again and again, on multiple streets, as if something below had somehow caught their scent.
During the journey, they encountered a handful of beggars, as well as a band of adventurers who seemed more nervous of Will’s party than they were of them. Every now and then a thief would appear, skulking in a doorway or disappearing from view inside a building. Once, at an intersection of wide roads, a party of heavily armed adventurers passed by with booted feet stomping, both groups warily eying the other. Will breathed a sigh of relief when they disappeared from sight.
Dusk cloaked the buildings as they broke free of the maze and finally saw the sprawl of the docks in the distance, fronting a river that cut a wide brown swath through the city. Relief poured through him as they stopped to absorb the sight.
Why is it brown? Will wondered. Did the plague affect the water as well?
The only bits of evidence of the original city were giant slabs of marble, spaced a hundred yards apart, jutting into the sluggish water. Will could almost envision the exotic vessels that used to sail from the docks of Praha and travel to the ends of the earth. The spices they would bring back, the creatures and adventurers ferried to and fro, the wizards from far off lands.
The present reality was far more banal. A nest of makeshift wooden planks connected the marble slabs, reminding Will of the Fens. Shacks and houseboats lined the shoreline, and he didn’t see a single vessel on the open water. He wondered if something about the plague limited river access, if something lurked in the water, or if no ships dared to pass through.
Though elated to see the docks, he grew apprehensive as he stared at the teeming chaos of activity, human and non-human, swarming the riverside. Everyone was armed and edgy. Fights broke out as they watched. He realized they might be worse off trying to find a place to spend the night in the docks than holing up in one of the abandoned buildings, and he relayed his thoughts to the group.
Yasmina drew her cloak tight and had no opinion on the matter, other than the need to hurry and find shelter. “My wilder senses are not attuned to this place,” she said, gazing nervously at the bruised sky. “And I’m not sure I want them to be.”
Dalen sat on the curb to take a breather. He opened his water skin and gave the docks a sideways glance. “I think I’d feel better away from people. You heard what the thieves think of wizards here.”
Without warning, Mateo slapped his blade on the ground beside Dalen, jolting Will to his feet. His cousin’s face had turned white, and Will followed his gaze to a piece of mottled green tentacle, at least a foot thick, writhing on the street at Dalen’s feet. There was a sewer opening beside it, and Will caught a flash of movement, something long and thick and slimy receding into the darkness.
; Dalen jumped off the curb. “Queen’s Garters!” he said, kicking at the detached tentacle before stumbling away from the opening. “What was that?”
“Something that wanted to invite you below for dinner,” Mateo said grimly, cocking his wrist for another swing.
“That thing just made the lodging decision for us,” Will said as he backed towards the docks. “Forget staying in an abandoned building tonight.”
No one disagreed, and Will led the way into the center of the grimy riverside district, Zariduke in hand, breathing in the stench of stale beer and rotting fish. His eyes roved from face to shadowy face. “I vote we find the Nilometer tonight,” he said, not liking what he saw one bit. “Right now.”
“Maybe Skara will know a safe place to spend the night,” Yasmina added.
“Aye,” Mateo agreed, weaving his urumi sword rhythmically beside him as he walked, as a warning to thugs and muggers. “Tis our best course of action.”
Three narrow streets lined with unsavory establishments, running parallel to the river, comprised the backbone of the district. Taverns and brothels made up the bulk of the storefronts, though Will saw pawn shops, an armory, and various other shops.
Thinking there might be safety in numbers, they returned to walk along the river. A hundred feet in, a drunken lizard man lurched out of the crowd and grabbed Yasmina by the arm. She twirled away and cracked him on the wrist with her staff. With a bellow, he charged right back at her. She lowered and swept his legs, then pointed the bronze owl head at his chest.
The lizard man started to rise, then looked in her eyes and thought better of it. Those who noticed gave the party a wider berth.
Growing increasingly nervous about the darkening sky, wondering who they should dare approach to ask about the Nilometer, Will was stunned when they found an ancient sign post, an arcing silver pole with letters carved in elegant vertical script, pointing the way to a handful of sights—including the Nilometer.
