The Undying God (3 page)

“Assuming you have nothing to hide,
this shouldn’t be a problem. Wait by the side of the road.” Nishka
sighed and followed Arxu toward their designated place. At least
the guards didn’t opt to search them.

“I thought you said the guards seldom
enforce the law,” Arxu murmured.

“That’s true... but you said the
city-states don’t trust each other. I guess they enforce the laws
against foreigners.”

“What do you suppose they think we’re
smuggling?”

“I don’t know. Illegal substances?” She
watched apprehensively as they opened another crate and rummaged
through its contents. She was even more displeased when they
searched through their food and supplies.

Nishka could hear them muttering to one
another in hushed tones and occasionally laughing. Several minutes
later, one of the guards addressed her.

“All right, the cart has passed
inspection. You’re free to pass.” Nishka protectively returned to
the cart and the guards backed away. She hoped they didn’t damage
any of the goods. If she found a single dent in the armor, she
would make sure the cart ran over their toes when she left
Sepulzer.

Nishka was the first to enter the
overwhelming plaza. Arxu slowly trailed behind, keeping an eye on
the guards. The donkey pulled the cart through the gates, following
Nishka into the streets.

Arxu gazed at his surroundings like a
blind man whose eyes had just been opened. The splendor of its
architecture was unlike anything he ever witnessed; gloriously
carved spires and constructs lined the cityscape like a graceful
skeleton that rose above the despair of the people.

The dystopian city was an artistic
endeavor if not a social failure that promulgated poverty and
suffering. The temples, manors, mausoleums, tombs and
fortifications resounded with meticulously crafted detail. He
looked upon a building that served as the royal tomb of the lord
and his kin. Glyphs and inscriptions were intricately carved into
the surface. Unknown to anyone but the most cryptic Sepulzites,
this mausoleum served as a resting place, lascivious bathhouse, and
the lair to a host of thieves.

A soaring temple stretched itself out
in the distance. Flying buttresses jutted along the edifice like
the ribs of an emaciated being. No passer-bye could resist letting
their eyes roam across its architecture. Surely, the downtrodden
felt some pride in Sepulzer’s façade.

An atmosphere of indulgence lingered
across the market. Street vendors and merchants displayed
everything from spiced meats to animals and servants.

Nishka established herself at the edge
of the bazaar, where she assorted the weapons and armor inventoried
in the cart. She hardly knew the first thing about selling
merchandise. If worse comes to worst, she could always ask for
Arxu’s help.

He stood calmly by in the unlikely
possibility that she would need him.

Nishka assembled several blades for
display. She admired the gorgeous detail her father imbued in his
work. How anything so beautiful could be used to maim another was
beyond her. She gingerly set it down.

“That’s quite an assortment of weapons
you have there.” Nishka looked up, expecting a customer, but there
were two guards. One of them smiled warmly at her. “Greetings,
young lady. What brings a merchant like yourself to our gracious
city?”

She recovered from the unexpected
compliment and eagerly replied, “Oh, thank you! I’m here for the
spring market. My father couldn’t make it this year so I journeyed
in his place.” The guard delicately picked up one of the steel
swords and examined it.

“Are you also a craftsman?” he
asked.

“No, my father made everything you see
here.”

“But surely someone with your
generosity made a contribution to his efforts.” Nishka
smiled.

“I assist with—”

“Menial tasks,” Arxu interrupted.
Nishka looked angrily at Arxu to silence him. “But she is not an
apprentice,” he quickly added. The guard shook off the interruption
and returned his attention to Nishka.

“You have an impressive selection of
goods. I rarely see blades produced with such high quality.” Nishka
felt a surge of pride upon hearing the guard’s praise. “You’re
early for the spring market, however. The bazaar has been
relatively quiet and slow these days.”

The other guard remarked, “I rarely see
female merchants in Sepulzer.” Nishka didn’t particularly like the
way he worded his observation. The guard awkwardly cleared his
throat, letting his companion speak instead.

“I’ve never seen you here before. Are
you a newcomer?”

“Yes, this is the first time I’ve
traveled to Sepulzer.”

“I’m sure you’ll feel welcome at our
lovely city.” Nishka looked around and scanned the
streets.

“It is... impressive.” “Decadent” would
have been a far better choice of description.

“You should see Sepulzer at night; it
looks absolutely majestic. Perhaps I can escort you around
Sepulzer...” He looked at Arxu as if he were a stray dog circling
her heels. “...when you aren’t being followed by your friend here.”
Suddenly, Nishka felt uncomfortable around the man, and she inched
closer to Arxu.

“Actually, I won’t be staying in
Sepulzer for long,” she confessed. “I can’t afford to spend too
much time in...” The guard looked noticeably
disappointed.

“I understand...” He set down the
sword. “As a member of the city watch, I’m obligated to collect a
small tax from all merchants renting space. It’s only a minor fee
that every trader abides by. Have you the payment?”

Nishka looked warily at Arxu, who
nodded in assurance. She dipped her fingers in the purse dangling
from her belt and retrieved a small sum of copper.

“Thank you,” the guard said, and he
smiled at her for a moment longer than necessary. He swept away
with cocky strides and Nishka breathed a sigh of relief once he
disappeared.

Arxu continued to drink in the
spectacle of Sepulzer. Every imaginable city paled in comparison to
this debauched place. He wandered down the street as something drew
his attention.

Tythoril beckoned him. She lured Arxu
across the street like a grandiose maiden whose silent presence
proved captivating. The tower watched over the city like a
guardian, a feat of construction outstretched for the heavens—if
such a place existed over Sepulzer.

Tythoril was dedicated to no one,
perhaps only to the concept of beauty itself, a lofty embodiment of
grace, arrogant in its pose but tempered with a voluptuous form.
Its spectacular proportions could never be replicated with nearly
the same infallible detail and splendor. Over sixty years and a
thousand artists had been instrumental to its
construction.

As he neared the structure, the sun
passed behind its form. The darkness it rendered stretched across
the northwestern bowels of the city.

Shapes crept through the dark side
streets and sinister-looking vagrants slinked through the alleys.
Commoners strayed further away from the street as though the
darkness itself portended human vice. The voices of haggling
merchants and customers were drowned out by silence.

Nishka couldn’t believe how surreal the
Sepulzer market had become. Where had the guards gone?

She watched uncertainly as two men
approached. The lankier of the two grinned insidiously with lips
curling back from his rotting teeth.

“What are you selling, young
lady?”

If his eyes dared linger on her body,
she would make him soon regret it. Disgust boiled up inside her at
the very sight of his face. The offending odor of alcohol lingered
on their breath, causing Nishka to recoil. The man chuckled
deviantly.

“These streets are under the control of
Morrig, not the city watch. Our master likes to collect some coin
from the merchants in return for renting his streets. You may think
of us as your insurance against any unfortunate incidents or
misunderstandings.” Nishka grimaced at the poorly disguised
threat.

“We make sure the people behave in
accordance with Morrig’s will. So what do you say? We wouldn’t want
anything to happen to you. Morrig can become...
angry
if he
isn’t compensated for his generosity.”

Nishka was offended more by the man’s
smell than the fact that he was coercing her for money. She
discretely scanned his hands and arms, looking for any peculiar
body markings. She concluded he was not a member of Sinner’s Eye.
The foul man sneered and held out his gnarled hand.

“Do we have a deal?”

She glared into his eyes.

“No.”

The thief looked as though she just
spat in his face. He was outraged but he stifled the words that
nearly flew from his lips. Instead, he smiled peculiarly as though
her answer amused him. He leaned in close to her ear, but he
pivoted sharply and aimed a dagger at her face.

Before the blade could even nick her
skin, Nishka’s elbow smashed into his jaw. A sharp pain, leveled by
her knee, knocked the breath out of him and he collapsed to the
streets. The other thief leaped over his fallen comrade and
brandished a sword in his gangly fingers.

He saw Nishka reach into the cart
behind her as he raised his sword to finish her off. Suddenly, his
eyes widened as she hefted a battle axe. He tried to arrest his
momentum and spin to the side, but it was too late.

The axe chopped through his sword and
bit into his shoulder. A splitting scream erupted from his mouth as
he plunged to his knees. The other thug stared in shock, and he
spun to the left upon hearing shouts of alarm. He fled as the city
guards closed in swiftly without mercy.

“Lower your weapon!” a guard roared at
Nishka.

“But they attacked me!”

“I ordered—” The sentry spied movement
to his left and he looked upon Arxu. The sight of the eerie man
approaching rendered him speechless. His eyes widened in shock and
he took an involuntary step backward. “Wha—?”

“She is with me,” Arxu calmly
explained. The guard still didn’t register his words.

“You… you are to leave Sepulzer
immediately. Take your goods and leave our city in peace. Lord
Jabul will not tolerate this mayhem from outlanders.” The
proclamation hit Nishka like a blow to the stomach.

“I didn’t do anything—”

“We don’t know for certain what
happened,” the guard said, turning a scorching glare on her. “But
we can clearly attest to your assault on this man. For all we know,
you could have connections to these criminals.” The wounded thief
curled up on the streets, trying to hide from Nishka.

“You are to leave the city by nightfall
or face imprisonment,” the guard warned. He seized the thief and
hauled him away as he whimpered in pain. A lone beggar across the
street watched the entire display.

“Stupid outsiders,” he huffed to
Nishka’s dismay.

* * *

The markets didn’t recover from the
commotion for the rest of the day. Nishka scanned the various
characters roaming the city square; a dozen women vested in
revealing garments, a priest robed in decadence, and homeless
children wandering the streets.

She couldn’t locate Arxu anywhere. He
vanished hours ago as though he never existed. Night was fast
approaching and worry crept up on Nishka like thunder before a
storm. If she didn’t heed the guard’s warning, she would be caged
like an animal.

Nishka wandered past two enormous slabs
of polished granite in the plaza. Weighing over thirty tons and
standing over twenty feet tall, the slabs were inscribed with
writing that Nishka couldn’t decipher. A sudden noise startled her
and she spun to her left. Crouched in the shadows of the slabs was
a small, elderly man.

“Excuse me,” Nishka piped up. The man
lifted his head. One of his eyes appeared entirely white and
unseeing. His teeth were yellow and his dry skin was irregularly
discolored. She could tell at once he was one of Sepulzer’s many
destitute casualties. Nishka lost her voice for a second, taken
aback by his pitiful appearance. The harmless man smiled at her,
glad to share in a stranger’s company.

“Have you seen a man with bluish hair?”
Nishka asked. The man looked blankly at her without response.
Nishka persisted, hopeful that he could somehow help. “He’s wearing
a brown cape... and he carries a black staff with him.”

The beggar held out his hand. By this
time, Nishka was growing weary of people asking her for money. She
reached for a few pieces of bronze in her pocket and dropped them
into his hand. He nodded gratefully and with a trembling finger, he
pointed toward the tower in the distance. Nishka set her eyes upon
Tythoril.

What could Arxu possibly be
doing in there?

“Thank you,” she whispered, still
gazing at the morbid spire. She hesitantly walked toward the
imposing building in her determination to find Arxu. Suddenly, her
feet stopped as she traversed the plaza. This was her opportunity
to leave the man behind.

He deserved nothing less for abandoning
her. He could have at least exercised the courtesy to explain he
was separating from her. Nishka entertained the notion of leaving
Arxu in Sepulzer and continuing her journey without his stifling
presence. By the time she had made up her mind, she had already
reached the tower entrance.