Korin closed his eyes, trying to put the stench of blood, smoke and the screams of dying men and women out of his mind. He said quietly; “There were no heroes in that battle, boy. Only survivors.”
* * *
The sun had reached its height and was now slightly behind them on the road. It was so hot Thorel opened his shirt to let in the air. It didn't seem to help much with the humidity that had been steadily climbing over the last two days of travel. Korin had warned him that summer in Vallad would be hot though he hadn't expected the air here to be so much wetter.
They reached the top of the rise in the road's slope. From there Thorel got his first glimpse of the Vale of Light Winds and the Great City of Vallad.
He was tens of miles away still, but the city itself looked like it was as wide as the distance between him and the Great City's nearest gate. He could see two large rivers flowing from the north into the city. On the closer of the two rivers, he could see several boats. There was a mountain range to the northeast of the city that went on as far as his eyes could see.
There was an immense tower in the center of the city; it glowed with a faint blue light even under the bright light of the sun. It looked to be taller than the closest mountains. He saw three other glowing towers standing near the great tower in the center that were about half as tall as that one.
He saw a few megalithic structures situated between the central towers and the walls. There was one in each quarter of the city he could see: so one more would be on the other side of the central towers if the pattern held. They were about one-third of the height of the shorter towers in the center, but they looked to be twice as wide as the great tower in the center was tall. There were many other towers throughout the city as well, standing half as high as the massive megaliths. He saw smoke rising from thousands of chimneys: they must have been cooking, it was too hot for a fire to be needed otherwise.
“Tryin' to catch flies, boy?” Korin asked dryly with a glint of humor in his eye.
Thorel closed his mouth and shook his head. He knew the Great Cities were the greatest accomplishments of mankind, but he had no true understanding until now how monumental that feat truly was. He'd been born in the Great City Surundi, but he was so young he hardly remembered it. He tried to imagine how many people working together it would have taken to build this City, and found his imagination just didn't have the strength for the task.
“That's amazing! I've read about the great Cities, but none of the books ever said the towers glowed like that!”
Korin's head turned sharply to him. “What do you mean? Doesn't look like that to me, lad.”
“Really?” Thorel said somewhat confused. “Well, it looks like it to me.”
Korin spoke again in a more serious tone than before. “Have you ever seen anything else glow like that, boy?”
“Well..,” Thorel began and stopped. He looked over his shoulder at his father's spirit glowing ethereally. Yes, I have. He thought. But I can't disobey my mother's wishes.
“No sir,” Thorel said quietly. He hated that he had just lied to Korin. But Korin was the one who had always told him to mind his mother too.
“Is that the truth, boy?” Korin asked in a tone that foretold a strapping if he found otherwise.
“Sir, either way I go I'll take a strapping. Either for lying to you or disobeying my mother. If there's nothing I can do to get out of it, you might as well just give it to me.” He said seriously.
Korin's face softened. “Alright then,” and turned to watch the road ahead.
They rode in silence for a time. Thorel wondered what had happened, and why Korin hadn't strapped him. He was sure Korin knew he'd lied to him. He had even admitted it. But when he looked at Korin, he looked thoughtful, not angry.
Thorel broke the uncomfortable silence. His curiosity wouldn't let him keep quiet. “How tall are the walls?” He wanted to know so he could scale what he was seeing.
“Twenty yards or so. Never measured 'em,” Korin said.
“How many people live there?” He breathed, truly appreciating the vastness now.
“Not sure. Vox and Surundi covered more land, but they didn't have the big buildings that Vallad has either. Surundi's High Tower is about the size of the Crown General's tower there. They both held about two-million or so. It's smaller than the Capital though. I heard Corwinthius had over six million people living there. You might want to ask a local.”
The capital is even bigger? Thorel thought in astonishment, as the road sloped downwards.
“Which one is the Crown General's Tower?” He asked.
“It's one of the three shorter towers in the center lad. Not sure which one from here though.”
Thorel could see several small buildings with a wall around them halfway between them and Vallad. Surrounding it were huge fields where he could see large herds grazing on the north side of the road, and vast fields of sewn crops south of it.
“What is that?” Thorel asked pointing to the settlement.
“Vorn hold last I knew. I haven't been here for near ten years though, lad. Might be a new Lord or Lady there now for all I know,” Korin answered.
“It's so small, but those fields are huge! I've never seen so many livestock, even at Handal!” Thorel thought of the trips Korin and the family had made to the nearby hold. Until now, that was the only thing he had been able to relate to as a city of any kind.
“Handel has only about five thousand souls there, boy. Vorn has at least three or four times that many. They tend these fields and herds for Vallad out here,” he said patiently.
“Wow,” was all Thorel could think to say, looking with awe at the magnificent sights before him.
* * *
Eight hours ago, Thorel understood nothing about the vastness of this world, or how many people were in it. Now he was in the Great City of Vallad, surrounded by more people than he had ever imagined existed. The cart sat in front of the open gate of the Great Academy of Vallad. He was sure the Academy walls were five or six yards tall.
Korin told him this part of the city was called Central Vallad. They had passed through another gate with walls as tall as the walls outside to enter; this was where he had seen all the glowing towers during his ride. It had taken them hours to get here after they passed through the East Gate. But he could see the four glowing towers from every place he had been in the city.
Darkness had fallen. The air was close, with smoke from street lamps and the odor of many people and animals. It was overwhelming. He didn't like the smell of the city at all.
“Are you just going to stare, boy? Or are you going in? There's always the Legion,” Korin said with a smile.
“I think my mother's head would pop if you went home and told her I'd joined the Legion instead,” Thorel said with a mischievous smirk.
“I don't want to think about that, lad. I'd probably have to tie her up to keep her from running down here and screaming her lungs out at the Commandant.” He shook his head sadly.
They shared a long serious look with each other while people and carriages passed.
Thorel spoke abruptly. “When am I going to see you again? Or mother?” His heart was full of apprehension.
“Listen, boy. There's nothing to be scared of. Do as I told you. Keep your pouch tucked in your breeches, and stay away from the alleys. You'll be fine. Trust the Crown Legion, they'll protect you. Don't forget what I taught you. You'll be able to visit on your break in November.”
He gripped Thorel's shoulder and gestured to the gate with a nod. “When you walk through those gates, I won't be able to call you ‘boy’ anymore. Now go,” Korin urged him off the cart with his hand on his shoulder.
Thorel stepped down and adjusted the pack on his shoulders. He steeled himself and moved forward. He refused to look back at Korin for fear he would lose his resolve.
He continued walking through the constant mill of people being jostled here and there with murmurs of “Excuse me. Pardon me.” It was a part o
f the constant hum all around him.
He was nearing the gate when he was almost bowled over by a person. He recovered from the impact and saw a smaller young man on the ground beside him holding his backside saying “Ow” with feeling.
“Sorry,” Thorel said and extended his hand to him.
He looked up at him and said “When did they put a wall there? You bloody big oaf. You should watch where I'm going!”
Thorel looked down at the young man with a frown and retracted his hand. “If that's the way it is, I won't trouble you sir,” and turned to walk towards the gate.
The young man hopped up and moved quickly to catch up with him. “Sorry, man. My mouth runs faster than my mind most days. You're attending the academy, too?” He asked with a curious look.
“I am,” Thorel said shortly, nonplussed by his impression of this person. They reached the gate where Guards in thick boiled leather cuirasses stood quietly with their hands resting on the ends of cudgels. The cudgels head's rested on the stones at their feet.
“I would have pegged you for the Legion, man. You're bigger than most of them!”
Thorel shook his head “No, I'm not.”
“Sure you are! Take the armor off of them, and they're a lot smaller. I'm Nigel,” He said thrusting his hand out at him.
Thorel took a good look at him and considered his response.
Nigel was a small man, likely weighing half of what Thorel did. He was taller than his mother, but he still didn't reach Thorel's chin. He had straight black hair, with a small goatee on his chin. It didn't look like hair had sprouted at all on any other part of his face. His eyes held a merry mischief in them.
“Thorel,” He said taking Nigel's hand in his own seriously.
“Is this your first semester, my friend?” Nigel asked with an unfeigned cheerfulness.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Mine, too! Maybe we can help each other out,” Nigel said with a grin.
One of the guards cleared his throat and said; “If you want to sign up for your first semester you'd best be about it, boys. The gate will close in a quarter hour.”
Nigel stepped up. He presented his acceptance letter for their inspection.
“Pass, boy,” the man said, who had only looked at the academy seal, as he did not know letters. Thorel pulled his out of his pack and presented it to the guard with both hands, and bowed his head respectfully, as his Mother had taught him.
Nigel eyed him with surprise, as did the guard. “I'm no bloody Noble, boy, just a man with a job,” the man grated. Inspecting the seal, he said, “Pass.”
The other guard spoke up. “A word of advice. If you don't have the coin for your admittance turn back now. The Headmaster takes a dim view of children who waste his time.”
“What do you mean?” Nigel queried.
“Meaning, boy, you'll find out if you do.” He said with an unpleasant grin.
“Where do we go?” Thorel asked.
“Straight ahead, to the Headmaster's office,” the guard replied.
They walked along the cobbled path, and Thorel took in his surroundings. This Academy was going to be his home for the next two years of his life, and spirits willing two more after that if he could earn the additional crown needed for his degree in clockworks. Even if he couldn't get his full degree, he would still be able to be an assistant for many types of engineers with his two-year degree.
The building in front of him looked more like a house than an office to him, it was three stories tall and had a large porch out front with a wooden bench on it. It was made of wood, with a stone chimney coming from a hearth inside. Another pair of watchful leather clad guards stood on the porch with cudgels.
Then he noticed Nigel shifting nervously.
“What's wrong?” Thorel asked.
“Oh, nothing... 'cept that girl wailing from up ahead..,” He said surreptitiously.
Thorel stopped and strained his ears. When he did, he could hear it too, coming from the office. “You have good ears, man,” he said seriously.
“I can hear a mouse fart at a good stone's throw,” Nigel said with a grin.
Thorel shook his head with a suffering smile. Of all the people he could meet on his first day, he'd found one who was trouble.
Crack! They could hear the swats clearly now, and a girl's wails in time with them.
“Do you have any idea the amount of coin it costs to run this office, girl?” They heard a man's voice come from an open window. “If it weren't so expensive, I'd count your punishment by the copper instead of the silver you've wasted! Thought you'd whore your way into a class, did you?”
The girls wail continued, saying “Sorry, Master! Please! I'm sorry!” The guards passed them through to the office.
Thorel looked upon the scene, and his mind stalled, attempting to process the information. A small brunette girl was bent over the stool on the Headmaster's left side. A short blonde guardswoman with close-cropped hair held the girl down. She wore a hard leather cuirass and the muscles on her arms stood out like a blacksmith's. A clean shaved white-haired man wearing fine blue robes tanned her bottom with a fluted paddle.
“My apologies, applicants,” the Headmaster said with a nod to them. “Bind this girl and take her to the nearest Legion barracks. They can make use of her skills, and teach her new ones.”
Another guard took her into hand easily and removed her from the room. Her fading wails were the only reminder of her presence.
“My manhood hasn't stirred since Andel Jarl Corwinthius sat the throne, stupid girl,” the ancient man said quietly, as he sorted his papers.
Nigel tried to conceal his laugh with a cough.
The old man raised his eyebrow and looked at Nigel. “Something is funny, applicant? Step forward,” the Headmaster said seriously. “Present your letter and coin.”
Nigel stepped forward, placing his letter into the man's possession properly with both hands. He then emptied his pouch upon the Headmaster's large oak desk, with nearly every type of coin spilling forth.
The Headmaster sorted them deftly. “You are four coppers short, applicant,” he said coldly, looking up at him. “You came to me, knowing you did not have the money and wasted my time?” The flat look of the ancient man told all. He was irritated and without mercy. That much was clear.
“They had two-for-one pints at Molly's saloon! I couldn't pass it by, sir! I promise I'll have it to you by week's end,” Nigel pleaded.
The Headmaster nodded to the short hulking woman by his side, and she came around the desk quickly, taking Nigel by the collar. The young man fainted straight away. She grabbed him with both hands and held him up easily.
“Master, may I speak?” Thorel asked. The stern guard placed her charge across the stool and unlaced his breeches with a practiced hand.
“If you do not waste my time, applicant,” the Headmaster said eyeing him seriously.
Nigel woke with a start and began thrashing uselessly against the guardswoman's strength. She put a hand on his back and squished the breath from him. Pathetic squeaks that sounded like an apology were coming from him.
“Master, I will cover his shortcoming,” Thorel said, pulling a copper mark from his pouch.
“Applicant, it would be wise to conserve your coin, and not waste it on one such as him,” the Headmaster said seriously. Nigel squirmed even harder now as the guardswoman pulled his breeches down to reveal his smooth bare bottom.
“With respect, Master, it is my coin and my wish,” Thorel met his eyes without blinking.
“Very well,” the Headmaster said, sliding a copper coin to Thorel. Thorel took the coin and placed it in his pouch.
The Headmaster took the fluted paddle in hand and whacked Nigel on the bottom hard. He squealed, and his eyes bugged with the impact. “That is what you get for laughing at my impotence, student. The way you're headed, you won't get old enough for it to happen to you,” he nodded curtly, and the guardswoman let him up.
He got up
quickly and pulled his breeches up. Nigel gave the ugly guardswoman a hateful look. She looked him up and down with humor, winked and made a smooching gesture. Nigel's face contorted in horror, and he scrambled around the desk in an effort to get away from her.
The Headmaster thrust a sheaf of papers at him and raised an eyebrow to the woman. She schooled her face to a serious scowl, watching them both.
He pointed to one of the desks on the side of the room. “Sit over there, student. Read and fill out the forms. Return them to me when you are done,” Nigel bowed and took the papers, scurrying quickly to the desk, still holding his breeches.
“Applicant, your letter and coin,” the ancient Headmaster said to Thorel.
Thorel produced his acceptance letter and the single gold crown. His father's death toll that had been paid to his mother for dying in service to the Legion. His father's final gift to him would be his education. He bowed and handed them to the ancient Headmaster with both hands properly, not meeting his eyes.
“I think you will do well here, student. What is your name?” He asked.
“Thorel Tangarth, Milord,” he said respectfully.
“If you have an issue that you are unable to resolve, you may come to me, young man. Read and fill out these forms. You will find quill and ink on the desks there,” the Headmaster said seriously.
“Yes, Master, thank you,” Thorel said sincerely. He sat at the desk and began reading the first paper.
Nigel whispered; “I owe you, man. Thanks for saving my rump! I'll get it back to you in two weeks, I promise!”
“Two weeks? You told the Master you'd get it to him in one!” Thorel whispered back harshly.
“I would have had to borrow it, man. C'mon, I can get it to you in two weeks, ok?” Nigel smiled. “And if you want to know the best places to find pretty drunken girls that will lie with anyone, boys too if that's your thing; I know the places.”
Spirit of Magik (The Dothranan Chronicles Book 1) Page 4
