Nightborn

by Anders, Lou

  —

  It was late at night when they emerged onto the street. The aqueduct had carried them all the way through the city to this upscale bathing establishment between a palace and a large racetrack called the Hippodrome. Karn admired the real-life inspiration for the Charioteers board game.

  “Like the coliseum in Sardeth,” he said. “Only it’s horseshoe-shaped, not oval.”

  “Also, it’s not in ruins,” said Thianna. “But let’s put some distance between our clothing and its previous owners.”

  Together, they rushed into the still-busy streets ahead without a clear sense of direction. Karn worried that Thianna’s extreme height would make them conspicuous, even in Gordashan clothing. As it turned out, Karn was the one who stood out more. There were people in all shapes and sizes and species—humans, elves, dwarves, and rodent folk—but most of those who weren’t covered in fur had the same dark hair and olive skin as Thianna. Karn’s pale northern skin and blond hair was the exception here, not the rule.

  They decided to sleep on the rooftop of a large public forum. It was a circular, grand colonnaded plaza, and its many statues and carvings of gods and heroes made for easy climbing. “It can’t be any worse than the Ymirian winter,” Karn joked. But the warm air of this southern, seaside climate turned out to be pleasant.

  “Do you hear that?” he said as they settled in for the night.

  Thianna listened for a moment. “Music? Chanting?”

  “I think it’s coming from outside the city,” Karn said.

  “It sounds like ‘Over the walls! Over the walls!’ ”

  “The Uskirians.”

  “Yeah, well, we know Shambok loves his music.”

  “There is that,” agreed Karn. “But this isn’t for him. This is to demoralize the people inside. Wear them down before the battle even starts.”

  “Isn’t that cheating?” asked Thianna. “Where’s the glory in fighting your enemy if they aren’t at their full strength?”

  “I guess so,” said Karn.

  “The dark elves will cheat too,” the giantess observed.

  “We’ve beaten them so far.”

  “I think actually it’s been pretty even.”

  Karn winced at her choice of words, remembering that Desstra had said he and she were even.

  “How can someone pretend to care when they don’t?” he asked. “Tanthal hates anyone who isn’t Svartálfar. You can see it in his face. But Desstra…I thought…”

  “The best liars make themselves believe what they are saying,” said Thianna. “At least until they don’t need to.”

  “I wonder.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  Karn didn’t say any more after that, but he lay awake for a long time before sleep came.

  —

  The sunrise woke them up early. They stood, stiff and sore, but they could see the entire city laid out before them.

  “I thought Castlebriar was big,” said Thianna in amazement.

  “Castlebriar made Bense look tiny,” Karn agreed. “But Gordasha makes Castlebriar look like some backwater village.”

  “You got that right, Norrønboy,” said Thianna. “If the world has a center, this must be it.”

  Gordasha wasn’t just enormous in scope and scale. It dripped with history and culture. Statues and obelisks, pillars and columns were dotted throughout the city. The gleaming white of its buildings—brick, stone, and plaster—and the beautiful red tiled roofs were such a sharp contrast to the wood and mud of Norrønir construction. To say nothing of Ymirian ice caves. Cypress trees were planted in orderly rows along many streets and in front of many houses. This impressed Karn as much as anything. The idea of deliberately planting a tree was completely foreign to someone who grew up on the edges of the great Norrønir forests.

  “Trees are something you chop down to make boats and houses,” he said. “Not something you use for decoration.”

  “Look there.” Thianna pointed.

  They could also see the Uskirian fleet amassing in the Somber Sea to the north of the city, and a view of the nearly mile-long Great Chain, which ran from the tip of Gordasha to the Fortress of Atros on the Thican coast. Thianna took her first glimpse of that not-so-distant land. She felt a longing, a desire to forget about quests and responsibilities and just run away….

  “That’s it, you know. Mother’s home. All my answers. I didn’t know we would be so close.”

  “You’ll get there,” said Karn, laying a hand on her arm.

  “If I could just walk across that chain…,” Thianna said softly.

  “I don’t think that’s what the chain is for,” Karn replied.

  “Why don’t the Uskiri attack the Thican fortress? It’s a lot smaller than a whole city. If the chain is all that’s stopping them, why not drop it from the other end?”

  “I don’t know,” said Karn.

  “I thought you knew a lot about history.”

  “I know a lot about history for a barbarian living on the edge of the world,” he said. “Not so much for someone here in the middle.”

  As it was, however, an answer wasn’t long in coming.

  An Uskirian ship, perhaps thinking along the same lines as Thianna, strayed too close to the Thican coastline. In response, a tower amid the fortress unveiled what looked like a huge parabolic mirror set on a swiveling base. The mirror was rotated and positioned so that its surface could catch the sun’s rays. This was then reflected into a tight beam of focused light.

  The Uskirian ship realized what was happening and tried to pull away. Unfortunately, it wasn’t fast enough. Fires broke out on its deck. As the beam swept back and forth, the vessel was quickly engulfed in flame. Karn and Thianna saw tiny figures leaping into the water as the warship, the integrity of its hull destroyed, sank into the dark waters of the Somber Sea.

  “For Neth’s sake,” Karn exclaimed. “They have a death ray.”

  “Sweet Ymir,” said Thianna, impressed despite herself. “That’s one way to discourage visitors.”

  “First order of business,” said Thianna.

  “Figuring out what the arc that shatters wheel is?” suggested Karn. “Or finding a Sunken Palace where the waters reign?”

  “Food,” said Thianna. “I’ve been a prisoner a lot more than you lately. And neither elves nor Uskiri seem to appreciate how much we frost giants eat.”

  “Food it is,” said Karn.

  They climbed down from the forum rooftop and made their way to the streets. They didn’t see a market, but suddenly Thianna stopped walking and sniffed the air.

  “Fish!” she exclaimed. Karn smelled it too.

  “That way.” He pointed.

  They followed the scent to an alley, where a strange sight awaited them. A small person, a dwarf by the look of it, though his skin was of an olive complexion and his nose was more aquiline than bulbous. His beard was also curly and, unusual for the dwarves of Karn’s homeland, trimmed short. Doubtless, this was a concession to the heat, though Karn had never known a dwarf not to have a long, braided beard.

  The dwarf was cooking on a small portable grill. And he was doing something else.

  “Are you fishing?” Thianna asked.

  The dwarf looked at them. “Shh,” he said. “Not so loud.”

  “You’re fishing in the street?” the giantess said again. Sure enough, the dwarf was holding a pole with a line that disappeared through a small hole in the ground. She grabbed the line and lifted it, testing its length.

  “Cut that out,” the dwarf snapped, swatting her hand. “You’ll scare them off.”

  “But you’re fishing. In the street.”

  “That’s what a street fisher does,” he replied irritably. “Now, buzz off.”

  “Forgive my friend,” said Karn. “Her stomach is steering her manners. We were hoping you could sell us some breakfast.”

  “Ah,” said the dwarf. “Coin goes a long way to cover ill behavior.”

  They bought two grilled fish fr
om the street fisher, which he wrapped in an oval-shaped flat bread he called a pita.

  “Aralish money?” the dwarf said when they paid, holding up a coin to stare at it. “Don’t see that very often.”

  “Is that a problem?” Karn asked.

  “Problem, no. Not really. Money is money. And I like money.”

  “But where do the fish come from?” Thianna asked around a mouthful.

  “How should I know?” said the dwarf.

  “You don’t know?” asked Karn. “Then how did you know they were there?”

  “My father taught me. And his father before him. It’s a local secret.” The dwarf eyed them with suspicion. “You’re not with the Fisherman’s Guild, are you?”

  “No,” they both said.

  “Good. And good day.” He waved them on with a hand. “Enjoy the Mensis Imperativae.”

  “The what-what?” asked Thianna.

  “You haven’t heard? The imperator has called a celebration for today, to petition Mensis to return and save us all from the dreaded Uskiri. For all the good that will do.”

  “Mensis?” asked Karn.

  “Mensis. The god. The one that lives in that big, domed basilica that dominates our skyline. Say, you aren’t from around here, are you? Aralish coin. And you don’t know Mensis, the horn-shouldered one.”

  “I’ve seen him,” said Karn, remembering the altar they had found in Sardeth. “What do you mean, ‘return’?”

  “Well, two nights ago, strange, glowing lights were seen over the dome. They rose into the air and drifted off to sea. People took it as a sign that Mensis had abandoned the city.”

  “Not exactly a vote of confidence in your chances against the invaders,” said Thianna.

  “No, it isn’t,” agreed the dwarf. “Though if you’re here, then they’re your chances too.”

  “What can you tell us about the Marble King?” Karn asked.

  The dwarf frowned.

  “Not a thing. You ask too many questions. Enjoy the fish and the festival. Good day and all that. Now, move along.”

  “Please,” said Thianna, shocking Karn with her politeness. “It’s important that we know. We have to find the Marble King.”

  The dwarf’s frown deepened.

  “You’re not guild. Are you working for the city guard?” he asked.

  “No,” said Karn. “We aren’t with anyone.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m selling fish, not information. That’s my final word. Move along.”

  Karn and Thianna left the dwarf reluctantly, stepping away from the alley.

  “Well, look here,” said an ominous voice behind them.

  Karn’s hand was instantly on his sword hilt, while Thianna had balled her hands into fists. After living under constant threat for so long, they were surprised to find the danger wasn’t directed at them.

  Three large men had entered from the alley’s opposite end. They surrounded the dwarf, who did not look at all pleased to see them.

  “The Fisherman’s Guild said we get to make an example of you,” said one of the men, smacking a fist into a meaty palm. “I like making examples.”

  The men had weapons, but so far they hadn’t drawn them. The dwarf, however, was clearly in for a beating.

  Karn looked at Thianna.

  “Shall we?” he asked. “It’s not our problem, but…”

  “I don’t like bullies,” Thianna said. “Besides, I need a new sword.”

  “What are we waiting for, then?” said Karn.

  Sliding Whitestorm from his sheath, he rushed back into the alley, bellowing a Norrønir war cry. Karn struck one man with the flat of his sword. Thianna pummeled another with her large fists. As her opponent retreated, she caught his own weapon and yanked it from his belt.

  “Thanks,” she said, holding up another arming sword with a wide cross-guard. “Needed one of these.”

  When his own opponent drew a blade, Karn was relieved. “Now I don’t need to hold back,” he said.

  Karn held Whitestorm high, inviting the man to step in. When his opponent took advantage of the opening, he brought the sword down hard. The man parried as expected. Karn twirled Whitestorm in his wrist, snaring the other man’s sword and sending it spinning from his grasp.

  Thianna thrust her new blade right through her opponent’s cap, ripping it off. The man clutched his bald scalp.

  Then the dwarf boxed the third man on either ear with two wet, slimy fish. The three men yelped and ran.

  “How do you learn to move so fast?” the street fisher said, eyeing Thianna with new appreciation.

  “It’s easy,” she replied. “Just spend twelve years dodging frost giants.”

  The dwarf nodded.

  “Don’t believe I’ll take that up,” he said. “The name’s Idas, by the way. And I’m obliged for your help.”

  “My name is Karn Korlundsson,” Karn replied. “And this is Thianna Frostborn.”

  “Strange names, but I will take help when I can get it.”

  “Who were those men attacking you?” asked Thianna.

  “Fisherman’s Guild. They don’t like when we get our fish from the street,” Idas explained. “Then we don’t have to buy at the docks. It’s nothing new, but I’m in your debt, nonetheless. So, how can I repay you?”

  “You can tell us about the Marble King,” said Karn.

  “You sure you wouldn’t rather have another fish sandwich?” Idas asked hopefully.

  “The Marble King,” Karn repeated.

  “Though if you want to throw a second sandwich in on top of that, I won’t object,” added Thianna.

  Idas sighed.

  “All right.” He glanced around before continuing. “The Marble King is a legend. One our current ruler would rather forget.”

  “Why is that?” Karn asked.

  “Well, he was a revolutionary. You know, a troublemaker.”

  “He was a soldier, wasn’t he?” Karn remembered the story that Greenroot had told him. He suspected it was connected.

  “Yes,” said Idas. “Also, he was a dactyl named Acmon. A seafaring dwarf. Like me. He came from Thica originally, but he was a conscript, conquered and drafted to fight in the Gordion army. They conquered people and then drafted them to fight their next war. The Gordions sent him to Castlebriar, where something happened to him. Some say he found a magic horn. He came back to Gordasha—it was called Ambracia then—and launched a rebellion.”

  “This rebellion—he had some help, didn’t he?” said Karn, putting pieces together. “Some really big, scaly, fire-breathing help.”

  “Sure did,” said Idas. “Legend says he had a dragon. Together, they drove out the Gordion Empire. He ruled for several years then. It was a good time to be a dactyl, let me tell you.”

  “Then what happened?” Thianna asked.

  “Oh, what always happens. The Gordion Empire retook the city. He was overthrown. The king and the dragon both vanished.”

  “Vanished?” asked Karn.

  “Folks said they died fighting the empire, but no one ever found either body—king or dragon. And that’s how the legend got started.”

  “The legend?”

  “Of course. Every vanished king has a legend. You know, that he’ll return one day, in the hour of our greatest need, et cetera…et cetera…to save his city.”

  “You don’t believe it?” asked Thianna.

  “Don’t know. I tell you what I do believe. Gordasha has been under siege before, and he’s never come back. But we’ve never faced an army like this. I think the Uskirians will come over the walls this time. Or through them. So I hope the Marble King returns. Because it’s going to take a miracle to save the city.”

  —

  “Hey, what are you doing there?” called the city guard. “That area is restricted.”

  Desstra and Tanthal were crawling out of the ingress of the River Lux. The water ran aboveground for most of its journey through the city, until it poured into subterranean caverns that fed into the
sea. An iron grill was meant to discourage trespassers, but the bars were spaced widely enough for the elves to slip through.

  They had spent the night in the tunnels. Cave dwellers themselves, they had been more comfortable there than anywhere they had stayed since leaving Deep Shadow. The bright blue sky and oppressive heat of this southern land was hard to bear, even for Desstra, who was less dismissive than Tanthal of other places and cultures.

  “The bars are for a reason,” said the guardsman as the elves came blinking into the sun. “It’s dangerous down there.”

  “I apologize.” Tanthal smiled with fake congeniality. “You see, we were out walking our pet rat when we took a wrong turn.”

  The man was confused by Tanthal’s words and friendly attitude. He smiled uncertainly. Desstra reached in her satchel, fumbling for a sleeping draught in case an opportunity presented itself.

  The guardsman’s smile dissolved into a look of alarm when he saw the knife protruding from his belly. He opened his mouth to cry, but Tanthal clapped a hand on it and steered the dying man over to the ingress. He shoved the guardsman through the gate. The man disappeared into the cascading waters.

  “You were right about one thing, human,” Tanthal said. “It is dangerous, all right.”

  “It wasn’t necessary to kill him,” Desstra protested.

  “It wasn’t necessary not to either,” replied Tanthal, rinsing his blade in the water.

  “But—but he was nobody. He had no connection to our mission. Nothing to do with us at all.”

  “Exactly. Nothing to do with us at all. Just a nobody.” Tanthal wrinkled his lip in irritation. “You’re beginning to bore me, Desstra. Why don’t you remind me of your value by stealing us some breakfast?”

  “Steal it yourself,” she snapped, not ready to dismiss his ruthlessness. Killing enemies under orders was one thing. But killing a random individual, when it could be easily avoided, was another.

  “If you insist,” said Tanthal, holding up his knife for her to see. “Though I imagine your methods will be a little easier on the locals.”