We pass the loungers wordlessly, continuing towards the lights. Behind us the tribespeople are soaking in their surroundings with awe, no doubt my expression has been similar, and occasionally a sharp crack echoes through the night as one of the soldiers must remind them to keep moving. Pride warms me as I note that they are still walking tall. Wounded and defeated as they may be, they are not ashamed of who they are when surrounded by such prosperity.
The street comes to an end and we reach yet another open courtyard. New streets go off to either side as the path ahead is blocked by a new perimeter. Another stone wall stands between us and the lights above, which I can now see are hosted inside towers, turrets, and gargantuan halls. Long poles protrude from the top of the wall ending in unidentifiable objects.
The gatehouse is already awaiting our arrival, it is slightly smaller than the first but bustling with more activity. Silhouetted metal spikes still cross the archway, ready to be lowered at any second, but, unlike the first, no doors hide our view from the other side. Instead, long chains cling to the rungs of a wooden floor stretching out into the cobblestone. A much smaller and better lit yard sits behind the gates and numerous figures are already lined up, presumably waiting to admit us.
An order is barked and the soldiers around us stop, a second later the rough tumbling of the pavestones is replaced by rhythmic bumps that can only mean that we are now on the wooden planks. I only realise why the soldiers paused to let us go in front when I catch the tribespeople looking down at their feet. Either side of the wooden floor is a steep drop leading to a trench of water, the width is much too far to jump and sits pressed up against a narrow bank at the edge of the stone.
The cart continues forwards and a second later we drop back down, continuing into the centre of the small space before coming to a stop. This is it, we’re finally here. Around us flashes of silver begin to emerge from the shadows until armoured guards surround us. Many of them have their swords drawn as if from this position we might somehow be in with a chance at overwhelming them.
In front, a grand entrance leads into a large hall, the towers I spotted earlier soar up all around it, disappearing into the night sky. Decorated windows are a collage of many blending colours that cast a blurring tapestry onto the ground below.
Three soldiers detach themselves from the darkness and make their way into the light, heading towards the cage. My eyes widen with recognition as the middle one removes his helmet.
Becker.
His smile widens as he approaches, reaching to his belt to free a crowded ring of keys. The tribe is forced backwards to make way for him as he steps forward.
“Hello Dale,” Becker grins. Of course, he recognises me, it’s not as if I have a forgettable face. Then again, I wouldn’t have been wholly surprised if he hadn’t, it feels like a lifetime has passed since we each saw each other in the village.
“Becker,” I say.
“I’ve been looking for you, but of course you know that.” Becker says with a slight chuckle, I cannot think of anything sweeter than beating that joy out of him. “It would have been so much easier for everyone if you’d just been sensible, especially your poor mother.”
The next thing I know one of Becker’s companions is punching the side of the cage ordering me to sit back down. Orrian places a hand on my shoulder and forces me back into my seat, knuckles white and staring daggers at the smug face the other side of the metal.
“If you’ve hurt her-” I start.
“You’ll do what exactly?” says Becker. He smirks as I grit my teeth instead of replying.
“Take the others,” Becker commands the man on his left. The soldier moves over to the first line and begins manhandling Horas towards a set of steps in the corner. The rest of the tribe are moved into a line and forced to follow.
Becker turns back to face us as the last of Orrian’s people vanish below ground level. It is Orrian who is on his feet now, rushing past me as he is separated from his people.
“Sit down pretender,” says Becker. Orrian doesn’t move, still staring at the spot where the others disappeared, even in the low light I can see the change as heat rushes behind Becker’s face. “I said sit down! You’re going straight in after them!” Becker’s shouting causes the baby in Sage Malach’s arms to begin wailing.
Orrian finally obeys, allowing Becker to move over to the locks. Most of the guards have left now to accompany the others but an unnecessary amount stay considering the cage holds only us two and the vulnerable. The cage door opens slowly, giving Becker and his man plenty of time to ready their blades at us in case we try anything.
“Out,” says Becker.
I land on the wet stone next to Orrian and my legs sigh with relief as they finally get to straighten out. Becker leads us over to the steps whilst his comrade attempts to rush the elderly out into the open. Water drains down the grooves left by past footsteps as we make our way down the uneven stone steps towards a set of solid iron bars.
The gate squeaks as it permits us entrance deeper into the earth. Flaming torches sit in brackets as we descend the otherwise plain staircase spiralling downwards. More guards have moved in behind us, blocking our exit as Becker leads us further and further downwards.
A minute or so later we finally run out of stairs, ending in a small
