by Rosie Scott
“Ah,” the trader mused with realization. “Gettin' him far away from the northern coast, aye? Smart idea, that.”
“That's one benefit,” my mother replied, walking straight up to the side of the wagon and lowering her voice. “Please don't talk about his identity on the road. If something were to—”
The dwarf held up one stout hand. “Don't ya worry yerself. I get the need for secrecy.” She motioned to my mother and me and added, “I'm from Hallmar, originally. We had an escapee of your kind there. Wasn't long 'til they found 'im gutted in the streets.”
“Half-breed?” my father questioned.
“Nah. Full-blooded,” the trader replied. “But he had the chance to make a half-breed. He was sniffin' around some dwarven woman, ya see.”
My father frowned and glanced at my mother with a mixture of love and concern.
“I'd think about gettin' out of Thornwell if I were you,” the dwarf continued, speaking to my mother. “I won't claim to know yer story, but they have ways of findin' who they're lookin' for.”
“We're trying,” my mother replied. “One step at a time.”
“Aye,” the trader agreed with a quick nod.
“Well,” my mother breathed, grabbing my shoulders and facing me. Anxiety and hope filled her silver eyes. “This is it.”
The reality of my situation settled in then. “This is the last time I'll see you in years.”
“No,” my father interrupted, looking pained by that idea. “The university has breaks every High Star. We'll find a way. We'll travel to Sera or arrange for a trading caravan to bring you back.”
My parents shared a glance. Though they didn't say it, my father's hopeful ideas of visitation were more fantasy than reality. Traveling was expensive, and my education already took every bit of gold they had. I suddenly felt the fear of disappointing them, for any failure in future studies could ruin them.
“Write,” my mother pleaded, her eyes gaining an edge of panic.
“I will,” I promised. As my father hugged me one last time, I overheard my mother's pleas to the trader.
“Cerin's so quiet you might forget he's there,” she rambled. “If he gets sick or needs something, he might not even ask you. Please make sure he has everything he needs—”
“Celena.” My father separated from me and held a hand out to stop her as I climbed in the back of the trader's wagon. “Our son is quiet, not incapable. We wouldn't send him off if we couldn't trust him on his own.” He turned back to meet my eyes as I settled on a small crate of goods. “Growth comes through hardship, son. Never forget that. You've lived a relatively peaceful life here; adjusting to studying magic in Sera might be shocking at first. But it's the ability to overcome that makes a man a man.”
My father's words echoed in my head as the wagon finally lurched forward from its long-standing wait. My parents stood together on the grasses, calling out words of love and reminders until I could hear them no more. When we were far enough that they appeared only as tiny dots in the distance, my mother turned toward my father and shook as he embraced her.
“Yer lucky, kid,” the trader mused over the rumbling of the creaky wagon wheels. “Yer still young enough to have parents, and those who love ya, at that.”
I gazed over her head to the land beyond. Nothing but rolling grasslands stretched toward the cerulean horizon. I'd heard they built Sera on the side of a mountain, and because it was a rich city, I assumed it was magnificent. But I saw no evidence of mountains yet.
The trader went on after she realized I would give no response. “My pa was a good man. Loved me in his own way, like. Worked all the time, though. My ma picked fights with 'im every chance she got. He was always bruised and bloodied. Never hit her back. I never understood that, even as a kid. I sure wanted to hit her back. Stop her yappin' tongue. Anyway, one day she picked a fight with someone stronger than her. She used her fists; the other guy pulled a blade. Ain't no yappin' anymore.”
I frowned and said, “I'm sorry.”
She chuckled. “I ain't. She got what was comin'. I'm sorrier for what happened to my pa. He worked construction, ya see. Was always down in the Hall of the Dead expandin' it. We never talked about what happened to my ma. Probably because we were both just relieved she was gone and felt bad for thinkin' it. Well, one day he goes to work and never comes back.”
“What happened?”
“All that diggin' pestered the minotaur. Ya know what minotaurs are?”
“No.”
“Creatures that live underground in tunnels and mines. Attracted to the mazes of dwarven underground architecture, ya see. Ain't nobody see 'em go in or out. They're just there. A single minotaur killed over seventy men before they finally killed it. My pa became a statistic.” She reached a hand up and snapped her fingers. “Just like that. That's the day I found out that nobody cares about nobody, kid. I was orphaned in a single day. Ain't no time to mourn or get shit together. Ya have to pick up and keep going. They expected me to take over paying taxes and rent. I'd been trainin' in blacksmithin' for years, but all that came to a halt. I wasn't makin' no money trainin'. So I had to give up my dreams. That's why I became a trader, ya see. Always on the move. Don't have no rent to pay if I ain't got a home.”
After I said nothing, she laughed dryly. “Don't mean to depress ya, kid. Just know how lucky ya are. The real world don't stop to help ya. Parents are supposed to bring their kids up right, but havin' parents who care is rare enough. Havin' parents who care and bring up their kids right is even rarer. Those are usually the ones who don't make it very far.”
“With what?”
“Life, kid. Good people die young. To make it in a cruel world, ya have to become its match.”
“You've made it this far.”
The dwarf laughed boisterously as if I'd made a joke. “I'm not sure if I should take that to mean I look old or kind,” she mused. “Aye, I've made it this far, kid. And I ain't no saint. If I was, I'd have been dead in a Griswald back alley fourteen years ago, and they'd still be cleanin' up my giblets.”
I decided not to ask her about that story since my imagination did a fantastic job of filling in the blanks, giving me some form of amusement as our wagon etched a path to the west.
As the weeks passed in our trek, the land changed. Our path angled slowly from west to southwest, and the ocean's purr faded and disappeared as the Seran Peaks rose from the horizon like white and gray incisors. The closer we traveled to Sera, the more travelers and traders we ran across. There was no road between the famous city of magic and Thornwell, but a worn path of folded grasses and the sporadic pile of horse manure marked the journeys of all who came before us. At night, a slight glow exuded from the southernmost mountain of the nearing range, reaching its fingers into the starry skies like beacons directing all to Sera. Even before we could ascertain any detail of the famous city it boasted its magnificence.
The cry of a bird of prey woke me from my slumber just a fortnight away from the 1st of Red Moon, and I stirred and pulled myself up as the wagon rumbled along.
“Ah, ya heard that, did ya?” the trader asked, before pointing far ahead in the skies. “Ya ever see a griffon?”
“No.” Above the gray mirage of Sera's stone architecture, a handful of moving dots ascended into the sky. Only when they flew over the city and came west could I see any detail. Long bodies bulkier than horses swept through the skies with the help of a wingspan of sixteen feet. The sun glistened off the opalescent hues of feathers that trailed down elongated necks and softened into the thick fur of torsos. Four muscular limbs curled up beneath their bellies to cut down on air resistance as they swooped over the plains and headed toward the Seran Forest in the east. Each griffon was paired with a rider in prestigious green and black armor. Though two griffon riders looked our direction, they found little of interest and continued on their way.
“Those were the Twelve,” the dwarf informed me. “A fancy-smancy military unit of Sera's, ya see.”
/> “There were only four.”
The trader chortled. “Aye. They rarely send more than a handful at a time. Depends on the level of the threat or job. They act as messengers and a reconnaissance unit for the Seran Army. Damn good fighters, too. Travel across the land quickly, can see farther than a cavalry unit, and the griffons fight just as much as the soldiers.”
“What are they doing now?” I asked, following their movements until they disappeared.
“Don't know. They're headed east. Maybe there's trouble in the forest or maybe they're deliverin' a message to Brognel or Celendar. They could be lookin' for an escapee. Sirius Sera sends the Twelve out to kill his most-wanted criminals.”
“Kill? Not capture?”
“Aye,” she replied with a huff. “Ain't no second chances in Sera, kid. Ya abide by the rules or don't plan on livin' there at all. Sirius Sera rules with an iron fist here. He ain't popular with most but he's both the regent of Sera and the headmaster of the university. Popularity don't matter when yer royalty and the odds are stacked in yer favor.”
“I've heard Sera is a beautiful city and that people find it marvelous,” I commented. It seemed to contradict what the trader told me.
“Aye. From the outside lookin' in, it's great. Don't start diggin' too deep and you'll be fine.”
Sera conquered the entire southern face of the last mountain in the range, its stone buildings glowing in the direct sunlight in tiers that unfolded from the peak in ever-widening clumps of dwarven-inspired architecture. The city's walls arced out from the mountain's base in a gigantic circle, keeping us from entering the city in the east until our wagon traveled around to a massive gate. Farms and orchards stretched over the plains just outside its wall, crops brightening up the southern grasslands in spots of color. A wide dirt road etched forth between the farms from the south, crowded with trade caravans and traveling mercenaries.
“Caravaneer Road,” the dwarf told me, pointing south to where the path faded in the distance. “The busiest road in the world, they say. It marks the middle of Chairel like a cross, ya see, connecting all major cities. If yer from Chairel, ya travel it. If ya wanna go to Hammerton in the east or Nahara down south, ya travel it. Road goes right through the capital of Comercio and by the great Tieren Lake.”
“Have you traveled it to all cities?” I asked her curiously.
“To all other than Celendar,” she replied. “I ain't allowed in Celendar. The Celds are real protective of their forest and don't like to let none in other than themselves.”
“Which city was your favorite?”
She chuckled. “Narangar without any doubt, kid. Looks dwarven, sounds dwarven, smells dwarven. It's just as much of a wonder as Sera, but it ain't as pretentious.” She lifted the reins to point at the open gate we traveled toward as the murmur of the inner city escaped it. “Our paths will separate soon. I gotta go take this cargo down the street to the northeast a ways. You'll be going up the hill.”
My eyes traveled over the seemingly never-ending tiers of the mountain. “How far?”
“All the way, kid. Ya see that building that sprawls over the mountaintop with all the pointy towers?”
I glanced up at the highest section of the city. Just below a blanket of hanging clouds that protectively hid the snowy mountain peak from view, the entire top level of Sera was one building. It stretched its greedy fingers in every direction, dominating the peak from wall to wall with long hallways and towers of solid stone that bullied the lowest clouds into submission. Lights glowed from stained glass windows in the towers, and soldiers walked along the surrounding walls.
“I wonder how big it truly is if it looks gigantic from here,” I mused softly, in awe by it.
“It is gigantic,” the trader replied. “That's the Seran University of Magic, kid. That's where yer going. Yer lucky, ya know. Even most who live in Sera never see it up close, 'cause they can't afford to even speak its name.” She snorted and spit over the side of the wagon.
I continued to stare at the wondrous building as the wagon stopped just inside the massive gate of Sera. The hot weather cooled considerably when the wall's shadow overtook us, and I took solace in the break from the heat as the trader exchanged information about her goods with a guard near the gate.
“Where's he going?” the guard asked, bringing my attention back to their conversation. The human stared at me in confusion after comparing my appearance to the dwarf.
“The university,” she replied, glancing back at me. “Time to get out, kid.”
“Oh. Sorry,” I murmured, standing from my seat and grabbing my bags.
“Make sure ya have everything,” the trader continued, turning as far as she could to look through the things in the back of her wagon. “Bags, tuition, yer shoes...”
I hopped out of the wagon and carried my things to the front. The trader smiled at me from her seat. “I was only bringin' ya here for the gold, but havin' ya along wasn't nearly as annoying as I thought it'd be. I normally can't stand kids, but you ain't so bad.”
Baffled, I only replied, “Thanks?”
The dwarf chortled and saluted casually with one hand as she urged her horses forward again. “Good luck in Sera!”
The guard looked over me and my bags and nodded toward the upper mountain. “Keep taking this main road up the mountain. There's a wall separating the university courtyard from the merchant's sector. The university's doors are gigantic. Can't miss them.” He noted my perplexed and awed face and added, “If you do need help, ask any soldier or employee in the courtyard. They'll help you find your way.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded once and turned back to the gate.
Sera bustled with life and activity. Crowds of tourists flooded through cobblestone streets, many carrying bags of goods or whole turkey legs they bought off of street vendors. Chairel was a melting pot of races and cultures, and Sera made this evident. Celds who decided not to live in their great forest to the southeast walked along the streets with pale skin and fair hair and eyes, many of them sporting rings on their fingers indicative of magic use. Dwarves traveled in groups that exuded the scents of raw metals, ale, and body odor, many of them dressed for work or battle. One dwarf's sheathed ax was still crusted with dried blood and ripped tissue, proving he'd seen battle recently but had been too lazy to clean his blade. The rest of the populace was human, and many seemed to live and work here.
Sera separated its populace by classes via its architecture, for the widest lower tiers of the city were poor and working class. They prettied the areas nearest the main roads for passing tourists, but a simple glance down a side street proved that architecture and people degraded quickly from there. Men and women missing teeth handled shady dealings at street corners and in shadows, and suspicious looking children hung around trader's stalls, waiting for the opportunity to pickpocket or grab forgotten merchandise.
Farther up were the tourist and merchant's sectors. The roads closest to the main avenues were filled to the brim with stores and entertainment options. Illusionists collected gold from awed tourists as they put on magic shows, while posters announcing upcoming plays and their locations were situated on walls and lamp posts. Laughter and arguments resounded out of the open doors of nearby taverns where the rowdiest crowds already drank even before the sun hit the midpoint of the sky. Standing tall over the multi-story shops and inns were expensive homes and apartment buildings for the city's affluent. Humans in expensive attire drank tea while looking over the city on their balconies without a care in the world.
The wall surrounding the university courtyard loomed just ahead. It had a gate, but it was kept open for now and no guards stood at its entrance. It wasn't necessary, for the entire courtyard was full of soldiers and employees. The grunts and playful banter of sparring warriors echoed out from the right before I even passed the wall. Though Sera was a city of magic, it clearly employed more than just mages in its armies.
I stumbled forward abruptly as som
eone pushed past my shoulder, and one of my bags fell out of my grasp and spilled its contents over the cobblestone.
“Excuse me,” a kid my age announced, glancing back with a raised eyebrow and disgusted expression. The boy next to him laughed cruelly as they continued on their way.
My nostrils flared with humiliation, but I said nothing. I crouched down and gathered my things, piling them back into the satchel. My eye caught on a tiny box that had fallen out of a folded garment of clothing, and I picked it up and turned it over to find my mother's handwriting on an attached note.
Cerin—don't open until Sera. Happy twelfth birthday since we'll miss it. We love you!
My chest congested with longing. I slowly opened the box, finding another note and a simple silver band.
You can't become a mage without wearing rings! You'll likely collect more over the years, but here is your first. Your father picked it out, so it's not too fancy. Hope you love it anyway. Don't forget to write!
My birthday wasn't until the 73rd of Red Moon, so the idea that my parents had thought so far ahead and planned this just made me miss them more. I pulled the ring out of its holder and tried it on each digit until it finally fit on my left pointer finger. I closed the box with the note inside and put it in the bag before I stood up once more and headed into the courtyard.
A training yard stretched out to my right where warriors sparred with wooden weapons. To the left, employees tended to lush gardens that surrounded a wooden platform. On the platform was a machine I'd never seen before, made of wood, steel, and rope. It had three holes in a piece of wood near its base, and a sharpened steel blade attached to a rope, its acute edge facing the base. Given the red stains in the machine's wood and its platform, I assumed the machine was a guillotine. I thought back to the trader's words about Sirius Sera's treatment of criminals and looked away.
