“Excuse me, miss?” I turn to see a young boy, only a teenager, with shaggy brown hair and a green tunic. “Are you looking to post your horse?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you could post your horse at my parent's farm up the hill here. It's the one across from the inn.”
I look back to the stables by the entrance. “ I appreciate the offer. However those are much closer to the city.”
“Yes, but have you got any gold coin? They charge three gold coin to post your horse and don't even provide hay or water. You can post at my parent's farm for just one coin and we will put her in a shaded stable with water and hay.”
I consider his offer.
“Alright, you sold me.” I reply with a smile, reaching out my hand, “I'm Jaria.”
“Tanner.” He shakes my hand, noticing my sword, “You fight?”
“What?”
He motions his chin towards my sword. “Do you fight? In the city?”
I look to the city, wondering what he's talking about. He must be referring to the arena Connar had mentioned.
“I hope to. Shall we go to your stables?” I ask.
“Oh, yes, follow me. I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked if you're one of the fighters. Father won't let me join, he says I'm too young.”
“You do look rather young to be fighting.”
“Yes, but the Bloody Altar is where real men fight and I want to be one of them.”
The Bloody Altar?
He catches the surprised look on my face, “You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?”
“Of course I do.” I lie.
“No, you don't...I can tell.” He giggles, “Have you been to Guarded Dusk before?”
I shake my head as he opens the gate to the farm, walking us in. “Oh, then it really is a good thing you're posting her here. What’s her name?”
“Stallum.”
“Stallum, I like that.” He pets her and she nudges him back. “My parents also own the inn across the way. I work the farm while they work the inn. If you need a place to stay for the night, you can come back here. It's much cheaper than anything in Guarded Dusk will be.”
I reach into the saddle bags, retrieving a small bag of gold coin left by one of the guards in the Realm. I take out one coin for the boy.
“No, no, please. If it's your first time here the first day is on the house. Please, go explore, enjoy the city.”
“How very kind of you, thank you.” I place the coin back into the small leather pouch in my pocket. I'll need them once I'm in the city for a plethora of things.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” I turn to the boy.
“Yeah, sure!”
“Guarded Dusk...wasn't it once a fort? A training place for knights?”
He nods, “Yes.”
“Is that still here?”
“Yeah, that's basically what the Bloody Altar is all about now. A way to prove yourself worthy of training with the knights up at the original fort Guarded Dusk, just a little ways north of the city itself. Civilians of the city are allowed to compete in the Bloody Altar, though you have to agree to risk your own life in order to fight.”
I nod looking back towards the city. “Interesting. So you say the original fort still exists, it's just north of here?”
“Yeah, it's closer to Winterstand. The orientation training in the mountains is still practiced so they're closer to the second sanctum. Also just to get away from the city itself, so those involved can really become immersed in their training and initiation trials.”
“You sure know a lot about this!”
“Yeah,” he smiles, “I really want to be a knight.”
I nod to my sword, “Me too.”
“Girls can’t be knights!”
“Says who?”
He blushes, petting Stallum as she drinks from the troth.
“That's what I thought,” I smile back.
“Well, enjoy your time in the city. Be careful who you talk to. Come back at dusk and you can sleep at the inn, I'll let my parents know.”
“Thank you, that's very kind of you.”
He waves as I start towards the city, “Be careful!”
I approach the south entrance. The gate is already down, with guards perched at the top of the entrance and one on either side. They nod at me as I walk in, not asking any questions thank the Saints. The city is enormous, mixed with cobblestone and dirt grounds. I'm not quite sure where to begin. Maybe I should have gone straight to the fort, but my map doesn't differentiate. It only says "Guarded Dusk" with a large outline in the shape of the city itself.
A large tower resides in what must be the central part of the city, so I decide to walk in that direction. Shops, food carts, vendors and performers all line the bustling streets. A few people begin to stare as I walk by. Most women here are either dressed like beggars or royalty, nothing in between. With my leather curiass and sword I am easily the odd woman out in this crowd. My long black hair hangs to my mid back, while other women's are tied in braids or pinned under brilliant silk caps. I keep to myself, making my way past shops and banners until one catches my eye. A heavy weaponry shop. Now that's something I have to see. Peering inside, a large man built of both fat and muscle stands behind a counter clad in iron.
“Hello Miss! What brings you in today?” His eye catches my sword. “Ah! A swordswoman I see, what kind do you have there?”
I walk up to the counter, unsheathing my sword and placing it on the counter before him. He picks it up with his brawny hands, studying it. “Hmm...I'm not sure I've seen one like this before. Is it from another sanctum?”
“Yes, from the Realm.”
His eyes widen as he looks over the sword.
“The Realm you say? How did you manage to procure a weapon from such an impenetrable place?”
“I grew up there.”
Shock spreads across his face. “Oh, that's clever!” He eases himself with a laugh. “I haven't heard that one before.”
I sheath my sword.
“Wait, you're serious? You're one of...the immortals?”
I nod.
“How can that be? I thought no one got in or out of that place?”
“I found a way.”
“Helwain will surely be looking for you. How did you get this far on your own?”
“I lost the guards in Oakenlich, and made it through with the help of some Mythicals.”
“Mythicals? Wow. Most people haven't been outside this sanctum. That's quite the story. What are you doing here in a heavy weaponry shop of all places? Gearing up for the road?”
I shrug. “I wanted to see what the Guarded Dusk was all about.”
He shrugs in return. “It's not much. A large city, the Bloody Altar, and the fort up north. Unless you're a knight, a beggar or a shop keep, there's really not much to do other than get drunk, fight, or spend your gold.” He smiles.
“The Bloody Altar, what does one have to do to fight there?”
“Why, you want to fight in there?”
“Maybe.”
“By the Saints you really aren't from around here, are you?”
I shake my head, smiling a little at the notion of putting my sword practice to real use.
“You are truly mad if you want to fight in the Bloody Altar, at least with that weapon.”
“What's wrong with my sword?”
“Nothing. If you want to die on your first try. That things nothing more than a blunt hunk of rust. Be lucky if you could slice day old bread with it.”
“Well what would you suggest?”
“Either a two-handed sword, or a shield to go with that...puny thing. Least you can do is protect yourself from real weapons.” He laughs a little.
“Hey, this puny, blunt, rusted-thing is all I've been training with for about a hundred years.”
“Training, sure. Have you ever killed anyone, or any thing, with it?”
I pause before answering. “No.”
“Where did you even pr
ocure such a weapon in the Realm?”
“My father gave it to me. It was my grandfathers before the Realm was immortal.”
“Well, that explains the rust. Do you at least have some armor to protect those skinny limbs of yours?”
I look down at my worn leather cuirass with a frown. “No.”
He throws his arms up in exasperation. “Then you can't go in there! They won't even let you in without your own armor. And a legitimate weapon. Those are the only two qualifications for getting in.”
“Alright. How much for armor?”
“More than you have my dear, I guarantee it. Listen,” He leans in closer, “if you're really serious about doing some fights, I'd talk to Gravnere.”
“Whose Gravnere?”
“He's one of the Skullys, you can find him by the Secret Citadel. It's near the fountain.”
“What's a Skully?”
He cocks his head at me. “Do they teach you nothing of the other sanctums in the Realm?”
I offer him a blank stare, unsure of how to answer.
“Well, you're aware of the Mythicals, so I know you're also aware of the fact that humans are not the only bipedal species with speaking capabilites in the sanctums, yes?”
I nod.
“Skullys are another species, the derogatory name for them is lizard folk, on account of their scaly skin and beady eyes…not to mention their tails.”
“Tails?”
“Yup. Lizard folk. Except they walk on two legs, and speak just like you and I are right now.”
How could the Realm not teach its people that other species like this exist? Was it really that elitest?
“Try not to act too surprised when you see one.” He laughs at the look on my face. “They don't like to be stared at.”
“Alright, where do I find this Skully?”
“Gravnere. He's always hanging out near the Secret Citadel, it's by the fountain to the right of the tower in the center of the city. You can't miss him, green and red face, scales. He'll be dressed a lot like you. He can help you.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome and hey, be safe out there.”
I give him a polite nod and turn for the door. I hold my sword close to my hip with my left hand, keeping my eyes down as I make my way through the staring crowds. I head towards the tower, though there really is no path to go straight in this maze of a city. Rather everything is a circle inside of a circle with a few key paths from the gates outside Guarded Dusk that lead straight through at the four pivotal points; north, south, east and west. I reach the east path and take it directly to the fountain. A large statue of a man in robes looking upward is the center of the fountain. Water springs up in a glorious circle around his feet and filters back through a basin below. I wonder if that's this sanctum's Lord, or what else he may be called here.
As I approach the fountain, I spot the Skully. He wears pale linen, hooded over his lizard face which sticks out much farther than a human’s nose. I approach him with caution.
“Gravnere?” I ask to hooded eyes.
“Who wants to know?” He hisses back through sharpened teeth.
“My name is Jaria, the man from the heavy weaponry shop sent me to—”
“To what, girl? To ask me about fights?” He spits at the ground near my feet. “He's always doing this to me, like it's some kind of joke. Sending me the most ridiculous people who come into his shop talking about the fights. You humans know nothing. You are all pitiful. Self-serving. Egotistical. You remain in Fangsun your whole lives and you're all so bored fighting is your answer to break the monotony.”
“I'm not from Fangsun.”
“Oh really then where are you from girl? The Realm?” He spits again, slithering out his spliced pink tongue.
“Actually, yes.” His hooded eyes peer up to meet mine. They're yellow like the wolves, but much wider with more space between them.
“You lie.” His tongue slithers close to my face. “You are not of the Realm. I do not sense immortality in you.”
“That is because I have left the Realm.”
His lizard eyes blink at me, scanning my face. “If you are from the Realm then prove it!”
“How?”
“Where does Lord Helwain live?”
“In Dragon's Den, next to Mount Kitum.”
“Too easy. How old are you?”
“One hundred eighty-seven.”
“And this?” He grabs the end of my sword sheath. I lift it up little so he can see the blade.
“This, is from the Realm. It was my grandfather's before the seventh sanctum became immortal.”
“Yes…” He inspects my sword. “I have not seen a weapon like this in Fangsun before. This must be why he sent you to me.” He lets go of my sheath and eyes me. “Follow me.” He hisses.
We trail behind a few houses all bent in a circular pattern around the fountain until coming upon two cellar doors. He raps three times on the slanted wooden doors adorned with heavy rusted pulls. Another Skully answers and lets us in without a word. “She's with me,” is all Gravnere utters as we walk down stone steps underground. The other Skully eyes me with disdain, slithering his split red tongue as I pass him without so much as a look.
We descend the steps down, down, down until reaching a long hall embraced with torches bolted unevenly along either side for light. Gravnere picks up the first torch. “This way.” He says as we continue down the dampened stone hall.
Tiny mice scream through holes as we pass, jumping around my feet for fear of being stepped on. I've never been disturbed by the notion of mice or rats the way most other people seem to be. A small drop of cool water drips to the middle of my head and slips down my face. I pull my leather hood up and fold my arms, shielding myself from the chill.
We reach the end of the hall into a round opening about the size of the fountain. We must be directly under it. In the middle of the room is a huge bowl of an altar, filled with bloodied-water. My eyes dart to the walls, which are smeared with blood and dirt hand prints. One section of the wall bears a fingerprint of blood work that reads, “I will not die here today.”
“Something wrong, girl?” Granvere spits at me.
“No, nothing.” I pull my eyes from the wall.
“Good. Welcome to the Bloody Altar.”
“What is this place?”
“This place is where fools like you come to die.” He places the torch into an empty metal casing on the wall. “Up there,” he points to a narrow dirt path lined with bloody hand printed walls, “is the training arena.”
I nod, looking around the room. “Why hasn't this water been changed out?” I ask.
Gravnere laughs. “Because, those who wish to join fort Guarded Dusk must pass through myself and the arena first. Many have died trying to do so. Before and after every battle, it is ritual to cleanse yourself in the Bloody Altar with the blood of those who have passed before you.” He pauses for a moment, looking upward of the path and the dimming sunlight that stretches down it. “The blood is a reminder of those who have lost. There will be no privileges of clean water for those who seek these halls.”
I shift back and forth on my feet, keeping a hand on my sword. “When do I begin the training?”
“Right now.”
VI: The Bloody Altar
¶He plucks a sword from the rack along the walls and lunges towards me. I pull my sword up in time to block the blow. A loud clink breaks the silence. His sharp lizard teeth grit at me.
“You fool! No girl is strong enough to pass the arena!” He pulls his sword from mine taking a defensive stance. I grip my slim, rusty sword with both hands, holding it directly in front of me like the knights of old.
Gravnere laughs, “Do you have any idea how many men have passed in these halls before you? What makes you think you have what it takes to surpass them?”
I spin from my left, swinging at him hard as I land on my right heel. His sword blocks the hit in time.
“Close.”
He pulls his sword back and attempts a direct stab at my stomach. I jump backwards. Holding my sword across my body in a defensive stance we begin circling one another like birds of prey around the Bloody Altar. Sensing an imminent attack, I dip my sword into the blood flicking it up at him. Blood stains his face, making him withdraw as he wipes it from his eyes.
“Ahh!” He stumbles back into the wall, sword down. I run over and in a swift motion move the tip of my sword to his throat, pressing into his thick, scaly skin. After a moment he drops his sword and raises his green claws in defense.
“Very good.” He squeaks out, “Very, very good.” I hold the sword to his throat a moment longer, making sure he's aware I could kill him if I want to.
“No need.” He says as if reading my thoughts. “You have won the first trial.” I ease my sword off his throat and back into my sheath, stained with blood from the altar.
“What's all the commotion in here?” A man comes running from the hall. He's clad in worn armor. He looks between us and questions Gravnere with confusion. “Is she attacking you?”
Gravnere rubs at his throat, picking the sword up from the floor and walking it back over to the broken wooden rack on the wall.
“Trials.” Is all he says.
The man in armor looks back to me once more, sizing me up. I hold a defensive stance.
“Her?”
“Yes, her.” I snidely reply for myself.
He holds up his chain mail-clad hands.
“Look miss, I mean no offense. It’s just, we've had a few women such as yourself come through and, well, all but one failed…the first trial.”
“And what of the one who didn’t?”
He looks to the floor for a moment with traces of sadness playing across his face.
“She was an archer. We all thought she'd never make it out of her first trial in the arena. She made it to her third and final before being admitted to the fort of Guarded Dusk...” His feet play in the sand as he stares down. I'm not sure, but I think I see a tear slip out of the corner of his eye. “She died in her third round. She was the closest any of us had come in about fifty years.”
The Writings of Assassination: Book One Page 6
