The City of Pillars

by Joshua P. Simon

  “So, the plan is to just barrel our way in and hope we have enough men to make it to the city’s center?” asked Omar.

  “Not exactly. We’ll enter the city on the main road to bypass the outer wards. From there, each unit will split off in four directions. Yes, four. I’ve reorganized the units since our losses in the last battle. Among the six men in each group, each will have their own sorcerer to root out any warded traps and deal with djinns and ghuls. Group one will be yours. Omar, you’ll take the center path.”

  Omar puffed with pride. From what Andrasta gathered, the center path was one of the toughest routes to the altar. The lieutenant bowed his head. “You will have no worries, Captain.”

  Though she and Omar never found good terms after their sparring match, he at least avoided her so the tension between them had waned. She in turn found herself respecting the man more and more after each battle with Nasnas’s armies.

  Next to Melek he is easily the best fighter. In time, he could end up better. She eyed the men seated next to Omar. And the others respect him greatly. He probably could have been captain himself under the right circumstances.

  Melek responded with a slight smile, trying to lighten the grim mood that hung over the group. “My only worry will be whether you’ll save any ghuls for the rest of us to kill, my friend.”

  Everyone chuckled. The weight hanging over them not quite so pressing.

  Melek went on for half an hour explaining the planned route of each group. He also covered alternative routes in case problems arose. Andrasta listened intently, admiring the detail that went into the approach. She could find no fault in it.

  Melek finished and dismissed everyone to last-minute preparations. Men tended armor and weapons, and grabbed the last bite to eat they’d likely have for hours.

  Or ever, she thought, ripping off a hunk of dried horse meat.

  It was also common practice before a battle for many to mutter quick prayers to their god or gods of choice. In Hubul’s Host, this act was more sincere than Andrasta had ever seen. Prayers were long and tear filled. Blessings offered by sorcerers who doubled as holy men were grandiose and laden with promises of eternal thanks and love.

  Andrasta shook her head, choosing instead to focus on the thing that drove her.

  Who would have thought I’d ever risk so much for one person?

  Training under Master Enzi, her gender made her an outcast. In her father’s house, family looked down on her because of her mixed blood. Even in the streets of her home, she found no friends because her social class did not match the other children.

  Growing up, her world revolved around her mother, and when she died young, Andrasta had no one but herself.

  She left Juntark to do what most in Untan deemed impossible, steal the Jewel of Bashan.

  And every person I met after leaving was just as bad as any in Juntark. She snorted. Until I found someone with more heart than he cares to admit.

  She and Rondel were opposite in so many ways she had thought their partnership would never amount to anything of substance. Yet, he’s the only friend I’ve ever had.

  What makes him so special? His knowledge. A quick wit. His ability to appreciate things I never cared for. Most of all, I think it’s the way he treats me. Yes, he’s lingered a bit when seeing me in less than ideal positions. But not long, and that’s all but stopped as time goes on. Regardless, he doesn’t belittle me because of my sex or my blood. Nor because of my education.

  Andrasta had reasoned that someone like that was worth risking her life for, regardless of what happened after.

  Melek plopped down beside her with a smile. “Are you ready?”

  She shoved the last bite of meat into her mouth. “I’m always ready.”

  “Good. Any questions or,” he paused, lowering his voice, “criticisms of my plan?”

  “No. I do have one off topic question though. Something that has been bugging me.”

  “Yes?”

  “I keep hearing the word Dunajan used around me. What does it mean?”

  Melek reddened slightly as he told her.

  She scowled. “I am no resurrected legend. Nor am I a prophetic chosen one.”

  “I know. And don’t worry, there is no prophesy about the return of the Dunajan.”

  “Then why do you let the lies persist?”

  “Because everything I have ever believed in and worked for all leads to this moment. We cannot fail. If letting my men believe in few twists of the truth will help our odds of success, I’ll take it.”

  “Even if I disapprove?”

  “I’ve dedicated my entire life to Hubul. I cannot fail him. I’ve only known you for a short time.” He paused, and began fidgeting. “Perhaps when this is all over, we can . . . redefine the nature of our association.”

  Andrasta’s eyes widened. Her stomach knotted. No one had ever made a comment like that to her before, at least not with any level of sincerity. Her head spun with a thousand thoughts.

  Why me?

  Melek cleared his throat and began talking again before Andrasta could muster any sort of response. “May I ask you something?”

  She nodded, still trying to gather her wits.

  “Why are you so loyal to Rondel?”

  She raised an eyebrow in confusion though admittedly she welcomed the change in subject.

  “It’s just from what I’ve learned, you have not been the man’s partner for long. And Khalil said you aren’t lovers. It’s not common for most people to take the risk you’re taking for someone.”

  For a breath, she thought about telling Melek some of the things that had just crossed her mind, but she decided that wasn’t something for him to know. She settled on a simple answer.

  “He’s my friend.”

  Melek smiled. “Many people have friends.”

  “He’s a close friend.”

  “Some people claim to have dozens, if not hundreds of close friends.”

  “I have one.”

  The swirling sand outside the protective barrier crashed to the ground in one dramatic motion.

  Melek jumped to his feet and shouted. “Everyone up! We move now!”

  * * *

  The impressive nature of the pillars increased as Rondel neared the city. He estimated that each rose somewhere between sixty and seventy feet high, topped usually by a sculpture of an animal common to Erba such as the oryx, camel, hyena, or viper.

  They entered the city through a wide avenue. The clomping of their horses’ hooves echoed around them. More pillars, shorter than those bordering the city, flanked either side of the stone road. Rondel admired the smooth limestone. None showed the slightest bit of wear or decay, a marvel considering the city’s age and the amount of time it had spent below sand.

  Smaller one-story buildings sat behind the stone pillars on either side of the road. Square in shape with flat roofs, they would have seemed ordinary, almost boring, in any other setting. However, the sharp corners, perfect angles, and smooth walls impressed him as much as the towering pillars.

  The buildings grew in size and complexity, rising upward of five stories. Several peaked in pyramid rooftops. Doorways or windows occasionally took the shape of circles or rounded arches.

  Rondel managed to maneuver his mount toward one side of the road, close enough to peer into one of the homes. The bright moon gave enough light to see inside.

  A large, stone table sat in the center of a room. Wooden benches surrounded it. Atop of the table, rested four bowls and an equal number of cups. A large empty platter, large enough to fit a roasted goat, sat at the table’s center. It reminded Rondel of a family setting places for dinner.

  Except there is no family.

  According to Shadya, the people of the city had been wiped out, down to the last child due to their disobedience to Hubul.

  Rondel cleared his throat. “I don’t see any remains of those that once inhabited this place.”

  “Their bodies have long since been claimed by tim
e,” said Shadya.

  “How can everything else look as though it hasn’t aged a single day?”

  “Part of the ritual set in place by Nasnas was to ensure the city would stand until his return so that he could once again repopulate it with those loyal to him.”

  If Nasnas had never become greedy, the city might still be filled with life. What a mule.

  They passed under the largest building in the city, a plain monolith, void of windows and doorways, except for one. The only change in shape came from a massive arched tunnel that spanned the width of the road, allowing travelers to pass under the building.

  “What is this?” Rondel asked.

  “The old palace,” Shadya answered.

  “Where is the extravagance?”

  “The rulers of the time did not believe in such things. It was why the city had thrived like no other in human history. The leaders were committed to the growth and prosperity of the city. When not eating or sleeping, they worked to advance their civilization.”

  “Who in their right mind would ever want to be the ruler then?”

  “Many,” said Shadya. “People fought for power here just like any other place.”

  “All to kill themselves working? Makes me question how smart they really were.”

  Exiting on the opposite side of the monolith, they led their horses down a gradually descending ramp to a large, flat, area, absent of buildings.

  At the center of the open space, evenly spaced stone pillars forming a giant spiral created a single path. A three-quarter sandstone wall bordered the outside of the pillars. It enclosed enough of the space so anyone entering the monument could not leave the path. A red light illuminated the tops each layer. Rondel looked up and realized the spirals sat under the crown in the sky. The focal jewel of the crown shone brightest and hung directly over the spiral’s center.

  As if reading his thoughts, Shadya whispered. “In the center, we’ll find the altar. It is where the power of the heavenly alignment will be focused. Never have we made it this far before.” She paused and lightly touched her stomach. She took a slow breath. “The first contractions have begun. It’s really happening.”

  Rondel noted the lack of enthusiasm in her statement. It almost matched the building dread he felt for what lay ahead.

  CHAPTER 23

  Hubul’s Host descended the outer sand banks surrounding the City of Pillars in four groups of six men.

  Melek ordered the groups toward the wide avenue that led into the massive city with a wave of his hand. They alternated which group led so the other groups could not only cover the advancing unit, but also retreat to safety if the first group triggered a trap.

  A sheen of sweat adorned the faces of everyone as they stood on the road. They paused in awe at the architectural magnificence that thousands of years later had yet to be equaled by anyone in Erba.

  A light brush of his arm from Khalil focused his thoughts.

  Melek looked over each unit leader. If all went to plan, they would converge at approximately the same time before entering the spiraling pillars protecting the ceremonial altar.

  But when do things ever go to plan?

  He said a quick prayer to Hubul, just loud enough so others could hear in case they were too nervous to say their own.

  He gave the signal, and the groups parted.

  * * *

  Rondel glanced at Shadya as she lay on her back some fifty feet from the large ivory altar, head propped up by old clothes, her feet wide. With Nasnas off seeking to further delay Hubul’s Host, Athar knelt beside her while she dealt with increasingly painful contractions.

  This was not the first time Rondel’s unfortunate luck had put him near a woman in labor. He decided to take his position as far away from Shadya as possible, hiding between a pillar and their mounts. If he hadn’t spotted dozens of ghuls keeping guard in each layer of the spirals surrounding the altar, he might have tried to escape.

  A low, painful moan from Shadya echoed.

  The screaming won’t be far off.

  The sweat, blood, and other bodily fluids involved with childbirth Rondel could do without. Screaming on the other hand, could at least be interesting, sometimes humorous. A colorful rant or turn of phrase shouted in labor would be under any other circumstance, unforgiveable by the local religious authority.

  As if on cue, Shadya wailed, using at least three different languages. He thought he heard something about a hippopotamus charging out from between her legs.

  Athar made an apparently unappreciated retort because her arm swept out and the ghul went flying. He cracked his head against a pillar, neck lolling back and forth.

  Has she had that sort of strength all along?

  “Rondel!”

  He swallowed. Oh no.

  “Rondel, my love. I need you now!”

  “Uh, coming,” he said, slipping out from behind his hiding spot and inching forward.

  Sweat ran down Shadya’s face. Her dark wet hair lay against her cheeks. Her chest heaved as she took in quick breaths. Her natural smell was made stronger by the situation and it hung in the air.

  Yet, she still remained beautiful.

  And she’s the mother of your . . . He couldn’t say it. His chest tightened, and he hestitated.

  “Please. Come here, and take my hand. I can’t do this alone.”

  “But Athar—”

  “Athar is an idiot. He’s lucky I didn’t rip his heart out,” she snapped. Her expression softened. “You would never laugh at me, would you?”

  “Gods, no,” Rondel replied quickly. “You know me. Sensitive to the needs of others in everything I do.”

  She smiled and spoke in the sweetest voice possible. “Good.” Her eyes widened. “Your hand.”

  Her back arched. She reached out, grabbed his hand, and squeezed. Curses, promises, and oaths spewed from Shadya’s mouth. Rondel’s voice soon joined hers as he tried desperately to pry Shadya’s fingers away from his grinding bones and popping knuckles.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the screaming stopped. He tore his hand away from Shadya’s grip and examined it. Nothing seemed immediately broken, yet bruises had already started to form on reddened skin. Small cuts from fingernails pocked his palm.

  “Thank you, my love.”

  My hands won’t survive this. Maybe . . .

  He looked to Athar. The ghul appeared in no better shape than before. Its head rolled up quickly and back down. He would have assumed Athar had trouble focusing except Rondel saw the faintest of smiles.

  He’s faking it! That whoreson is smarter than I thought.

  “Rondel. I feel another one.”

  Rondel edged away to avoid his hands being crushed again. However, Shadya simply latched onto his retreating calf. She squeezed with enough strength that it would have humbled the wulfron that had once bitten him there.

  He joined Shadya’s string of curses.

  * * *

  It didn’t take long for the first attack on Andrasta’s group. Barely a minute off the main road, a pack of five ghuls in the form of hyenas pounded down the narrow road, snarling and frothing. Andrasta had given orders for her unit to assume their defensive formation. They easily repelled the initial clash. However, another pack came in from behind, then two more from side streets, bring the number close to twenty

  The pungent hyenas pressed so tightly against their defenses that Andrasta had to stab with her dagger as she didn’t have room to swing her sword effectively.

  Those under her command fought well. They felled ten of the ghuls and wounded six more before their enemies retreated. In the aftermath, not a person in her squad remained unscathed. Thankfully, the wounds were mostly minor.

  They continued through the city, weaving back and forth over adjoining streets so the enemy could not ambush them as easily. They took to running through people’s homes, crashing through doors and windows in order to avoid side alleys that would leave them trapped.

  Even still, the ghul
s found them twice more. The second time came on the open road. Rather than a pack of hyenas, the horde of ghuls attacked in human form, some as former Host members. Andrasta’s unit turned back the assault, but not without losing one of their own.

  The third attack came after following the suggestion of their sorcerer, Zaid. They took an alternate route through an old mansion to avoid suspected traps in the streets that would alert the ghuls of their presence. Their decision fed right into the hands of the enemy.

  Halfway through the home, ghuls sprang up from cellar doors while others dropped from the ceiling. Given the tight space, Andrasta could not get her men into proper formation to defend themselves. They suffered another loss.

  Zaid distracted the ghuls with a blinding spell long enough for them to escape. She hated running from any enemy but she also knew that killing was not the intended goal. The only true measure of success was whether she could save Rondel.

  With ghuls writhing on the floor, palms over their eyes, she gestured for others to follow her.

  She zipped past a large, stone hearth on her way toward a door that led to a narrow street.

  They hustled across cobbled stones. She winced at each pounding step, its echo carrying too well across the empty city.

  High-pitched howls that finished in cackles rang out behind them. She looked over to Zaid. “Can you throw them off our trail?”

  “Not while running. If we stop somewhere safe, I can create a few confusion wards.”

  With quite a ways left to travel, stopping was not what she had in mind. But she knew they needed to try something to shake their pursuers.

  Andrasta took a sharp left, then a quick right toward a tall rectangular building that stood at the center of six intersecting roads. Engraved on the face of each wall were the various images of the moon during its natural cycle. From Melek’s briefing, she knew the building was once a temple for Hubul until the people converted it to the worship of his son. It marked the halfway point of Andrasta’s route through the city.

  Ignoring the howls that grew ever louder, she sprinted toward the half-open door and barreled inside. The others followed.