The Infinite Road to Kataal (Chapter 3-4)

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Chapter 3 - Violet Skies

Five days of walking with little and less in the way of comforts. By the time we arrive in the next town (if it could truly be called one), I relish their mediocre food and warm beer. Similar to Pelos, Dantan does not get many visitors. Baraki the inn keep tells us that we are the first travelers she has seen in nearly half a season. 

“We’re not a destination or a waypoint. Not a place people go to, and certainly not a place people come from. I reckon we could disappear tomorrow, Gods be good, and the world would beat on just the same.” 

The proclamation chills me, having just left a town destined to succumb to that same exact curse. I cannot rid myself of the feeling that somehow I’m responsible—that my presence in these forgotten towns brings them undue attention. I know it is folly, but the worst thoughts often are. They are not rational, those fears that bubble within our minds, the ones we dare not even speak aloud, yet they take us all the same. 

Coming back to the moment, I watch Baraki go about tending to those that came for dinner. Townsfolk. Regulars. They are a homogenous bunch, silver hair, copper skin, and bright green eyes. They could tell us they are all brothers and sisters and we would not miss a step. Still, it’s comforting to watch the interactions of those who are naïve or blind to the turnings of the world; simpler though their lives appear, they suffer the same dispositions as everyone else. I can see stress plain on the face of a dozen parents, worrying after their children; I watch as eyes wander away from spouses and back again, sporting that old familiar guilt.

From the most powerful Sovereign to the lowest man, we are all the same—a race of fools all pretending to have figured life itself out. 

“What news from the Criers?” I ask when the burly inn keep returns with two more wooden steins. The beer within is flat stuff, closer to barley soup, but I do not have a complaint within my head. The effort required to get here makes it taste all that much sweeter.

“Little and less,” Baraki says. “This Sovereign, that Sovereign, Chaos all around. It means nothing to us here. The crops are growing, the sun rises and sets each day, and the rains have not washed us away.”

“Who do you pay your taxes to?” Silas asks.

Baraki snorts. “Haven’t seen a Collector since I was still hiding in my mother’s skirts. You have to make money to pay the royal bastards. I reckon they know it’s more to pay the Collectors’ fees than they get from collecting here. Other than this inn, nothing worth a damn about this town.”

“Beer is excellent,” I say, finishing the second stein and letting out a long, satisfied exhale. 

Baraki quirks her eyebrows up at me, wrinkles in her forehead belying a familiar gesture. “Your friend drunk?” She asks Silas.

“Just simple.”

That seems to satisfy her, and she goes about tending to the locals again. For a town devoid of much excitement, I am almost hurt that they pay us no mind. Not that I want to be the center of attention, but it feels eerily reminiscent of the polite distance those in Pelos afforded me. “Have a map?”

Silas chuckles. “You have no clue where we are, do you?”

“No,” I admit. “That’s why I have you and—” I stop myself short, though it is too obvious.

“Yeah.”

“Should we find her?”

Silas stares down into the bottom of his mug as if there will be answers written there. “She could be anywhere, and besides we should—”

He is interrupted by Baraki banging in from outside, eyes wide. “Sky is blooming purple like a patch of nightlace out there.” Indeed, just beyond her silhouette cut into the door, the street outside is swimming with snakes of violet light. They may think themselves removed from the turnings of the world, but even here in the crack of nowhere, people understand the color of Chaos. Murmurs erupt through the room as finally a few eyes turn in our direction. 

Silas and I shoot to our feet, walking over to the door and staring up into the night. Above, where the day had been clear, there now exists a roiling mass of clouds. They fall over one another, swirling in such incongruous currents—beating against one another only to float away again. It is reminiscent of an octopus fighting with itself. An inverted sea of darkness and violet swimming over our heads. Not for the first time in my life I am struck by the absolute beauty beheld within the unknown. Chaos means uncertainty, uncertainty breeds fear. But there is opportunity in the unknown—beautiful, boundless opportunity.

“That’s south, right?” I ask.

“You really are lost without me,” Silas remarks. “No wonder you never left that town. But yes, that’s Pelos. Though only a Chasm now, eh?”

I don’t like it, my previous fears—that somehow the God of Chaos is masquerading as Order if only enough to hunt me specifically—bubble up once more. I push those fears down and turn toward Baraki. “You may want to ration that beer. I fear you’re going to have some more unexpected visitors soon.”

As if rolling onto the stage at my cue, the tall figure of a man materializes up the road, head upturned to bask in the terrible sky. He keeps his pace as he approaches, though he does not turn down his eyes until he almost collided with Silas. Blinking in a daze, he looks between Baraki, Silas, and myself. He is taller than me, a scrawny build with pale skin and hair that is paler still. His clothes are caked with dust and sweat much like our own, though he does not smell like we do.

I mislike him immediately.

“My apologies,” he says in a slow, haughty voice. His accent elongates vowels in a way that tinges his words with sarcasm. “Quite the night sky, is it not?”

“Who are you?”

He eyes me with a quirk of a smile tugging his lips. “Marius Blanche.” Then he bows to us. Actually bows. If Baraki has any more idea what to do with the gesture than us she does not show it. “I fear I have been distanced from my caravan. Marauders took everything from us and sent us walking.”

“Us?” I ask. Something in my tone causes Baraki to back away from the man and Silas to slide in front of him.

“We were separated,” he continued, looking around the street as if suddenly confused. “Do you have any water? Or food? I have money to pay for it.”

“I thought marauders came upon you?”

A flash in the man’s eyes is all Silas needs. Marius’s hand flashes to his side, searching for some concealed weapon. Silas has none. He does not need one. My friend is a great many things, hesitant is not one of them.

Nor weak.

His fist connects with Marius’s chest in an instant. Being of about equal size, the blow should have been enough to cause the newcomer to submit to gravity. Instead, the man is raised up from the ground in defiance of gravity itself. Trapped in the violet amber of the night for a moment, he floats, hand still outstretched to his hip as if searching for salvation from the shock. Then he falls to the ground, letting out all his air in a painful huff.

Silas saunters over to where the man lays groaning in the road, crouching down to retrieve the blade that was meant for him. It’s short, though with an intricately carved handle and a polished blade that belies either meticulous care or lack of use. I suspect the latter. I join my friend by our assailant, inspecting the blade more closely. “Beautiful work,” I mock. “Wasted on you, I think.”

“I know,” He wheezes from the ground. “Stupid lots, I knew Erian rigged them.”

I share a look with Silas. “Keep talking.”

“We were set upon by marauders, some ten days east of here,” Marius begins, still wheezing.

“East?” Baraki scoffs. “Nothing out east but the desert.”

As soon as she says it, I can picture where I am. The Alamarda Desert is the edge of the world. An inhospitable, impassible mass of sand and heat. Stretching as far north as the Ilverian Sea and as far south as only the Gods know, it serves as one of the many bars that serve to cage Uteria.

Marius nods, pressing on. “There are five of us. We ran out of food four days back, water two after that. We’re tired, hungry, thirsty.”

“But you kept your perfumes,” I note.

Marius wedges his way to a seated position and sneers at me. “Who would take me seriously otherwise?”

I rub my eyes in exhaustion. I have met more than my fair share of men like Marius. A handful of women as well, corrupt with a surplus of money, power, praise, and a lack of stern words and strict punishments. Still, I have found it is more often men that fall into this lot, myself often veering close to the mania of power. Was I any better? My aims are still ultimately selfish, are they not?

“Did you consider simply asking the fine people of this town for a dram of hospitality?” I let the disapproval lay thick over my words.

Marius sneers at me again as if the idea itself it wholly distasteful. “I should not have to make a request.”

“Right… Well, my friend and I will be keeping this,” I examine the blade once again. It truly is a beautiful piece, though it would be more fit for a mantle than the chest of a man. “If you and your associates decide that deigning to ask these fine people for help suits you, be my guest. Or theirs rather,” I say nodding to Baraki. “Otherwise you can lay here and enjoy the sight of Chaos tearing a small town asunder.”

We leave Marius there in the street, his eyes widening as we return to the inn. Many of the people had come to see the sky and stayed for the entertainment. “If the rest of his party shows up and they are armed, feel free to wake us,” I tell Baraki. “Thank you again for the hospitality. We’ll be gone by morning.”

Baraki winks at me. “If the rest show up and they are armed, we are more than capable of handling ourselves, dears.”

Before we turn in for the night, I cannot help but ask one more thing. “Has anything odd been happening recently? Out in the crop fields or here in town?”

“Nothing until you showed up,” she tells me with a smile.

I return the smile but can’t relieve the pit forming within my stomach. 

***

Steel being pressed into a neck is a distinctive feeling, one I don’t relish, but am quite familiar with all the same. Thankfully, I was not on the receiving end for once. I hold his shoulders to ensure he does not sit up too fast and send his neck into my knife.

“Good morning, Your Ascendancy.”

“What in the Gods—”

“Ahh, don’t bring them into it. They have enough to worry about. I see Baraki was kind enough to let you stay here. Lovely woman she is. Nice town, kind people, wouldn’t you agree?”

“They are,” Marius says through gritted teeth. His eyes flick down to the blade poised at his throat. “If you were going to kill me, you should have just done it last night.”

“I couldn’t see your face properly last night,” I say simply. “It’s not fun unless I can see all the emotions that flicker through you in your final moments.”

Indeed, those emotions do flicker through him then: fear, uncertainty, doubt, indignation. Remorse doesn’t appear to be his strong suit, but I give him credit that after cycling through them all he lands on defiance. Eyes hard, he lifts his chin, inviting his final moment. “Do you know who I am?” He hisses at me.

“No, and I don’t much care,” I admit. “Marius, something-or-other, though I suspect that is a fake name.” I glance down. Somehow even in his troubled state he looks more put together than most people. “I can tell you’re of some importance wherever you hail from. Though why you’re galivanting in the desert without guards fit enough to defend against marauders I cannot guess.”

It strikes me just as a mischievous smile spreads across his face. “Runaway Adventurer then, is it?”

He shrugs smugly. I wouldn’t have thought there’s even a way to look smug while shrugging, least of all with a knife at your throat, but he manages  it. A quick thought that the world (and especially those he had dragged with him) will be better off if I simply pressed the blade down crosses my mind. But no. Murdering someone for being smug is poor excuse, even for me.

“A word of advice then,” I say, removing the blade from his throat and taking a few steps back. “If you act like everyone is beneath you, they will never stop trying to topple you.” I can see the sneer forming on his face, so I shrug in what I hope is an equally smug way. “Take my advice or don’t. But those people who you brought on this grand adventure? You’re responsible for them. Perhaps you should act accordingly.”

I flip the blade in the air, catching it by the flat between thumb and forefinger—a trick born of boredom. But it gets the desired reaction as I thrust the handle toward Marius. “And learn to fight. You might even get to keep some of your stuff in the future.”

I leave him to his room and whatever reflections he wants to level upon himself. I can’t say for certain why I feel the need to lecture him, but I feel better for having done so.

“Can’t save them all,” Silas pans as I join him in the entryway.

I stare out at the morning, purple still tinging the streets outside. “I know.” I can’t save anyone, I think to myself, but I keep that thought inside. Then we thank Baraki and pass off a few more coins by way of thanks and apology for the commotion.

“With a show life that, Gods’ Breath, you’re both welcome anytime.” The sound of her laughter chases us out into the street.

“So where to?” Silas asks, taunting me though I can’t prove it.

“I hear there’s a lovely desert out east.”

Silas pushes me playfully. Laughing, and feeling a bit like our old selves, we march north once again. Unaware of just how alike our old selves we are soon to become.

Chapter 4 – New Runs

“Chaos Alive! Somebody help!”

My hands run feverishly over Silas’s shirt as the pools of red all coalesce into a crimson mass. I don’t look up to see who rushes over, keeping my eyes trained on the ruined shirt of my friend, trying to figure out the best way forward. Please, I think. Please!

Right on time, a caravan rounds the corner. It’s pulled by two draka, long-necked and fuzzy things with an impressive tolerance for heat and drought. The driver of the caravan was a stout woman with a massive straw hat, the brim extending in a wide radius from her head. I cast my eyes back down quickly, letting out a few more screams for good measure.

“Do you have to be so loud?”

“Dead people can’t hear me,” I hiss down at Silas.

“Why are we doing this?”

“Dead men don’t speak either, now quiet.”

Painting on a mask of concern I whip my head up at the approaching caravan. “Oh thank the Gods! Come quick! Marauders, just that way!” I point down the path around the next curve. I continue to babble frantically as the driver halts the cart and hops down, shouting something to the others in the back. The words are clipped Forliani, not a dialect I ever claim to have mastered. Still, I catch the word “dead.”

Two people scramble out of the cart, a man and a woman. They are dressed plainly enough, simple travelers after all. Oh well, no time to reconsider the plan now. And we can always repeat it again if needed.

I continue babbling in Uterian while the three of them rush over. Pumping the hysterics, I back away slowly as they all lean in to examine Silas. I do not have long so I sweep quickly to the caravan, peering in the door they left open. Their eyes are busy appraising Silas and they pay me no mind. We have moments before the realization that there are no actual puncture wounds dawns on them. My hand is in the caravan quickly, eye catching the small chest in the corner. I open it, seeing only a bracelet and necklace, but they’ll do.

What my eyes don’t see, at least not at first, is the girl in the corner watching this unfold. Her scream is the first alert I have to her presence. It cuts short whatever other thievery I could have accomplished.

“Terribly sorry,” I say to her in broken Forlani before flashing a smile. Then to Silas I shout, “Have to go!” My hand closes around the chest, taking the whole thing. No point for discretion anymore.

Silas pops up, shocking the others and the draka who kick up restlessly and nearly topples the caravan. Silas is halfway around the curve before I can move to follow him. The family and their driver look between my face and the hand that grips their measly chest of jewels. I favor them with a slight smile before saying, “Sorry.”

Before they can shout and scream and race to follow us, I am already around the bend, Silas and I disappearing as quickly as our feet will carry us. A necessary evil, I tell myself over and over.

So why can’t I believe it?

***

“It would appear we are in need of some new runs, eh?”

We’re staring down at the meager jewels we had pilfered from the family. We can’t sell them for much more than a hot meal upon further consideration. “Desperately. I don’t feel good about it either… I feel terrible actually. We really used to do this?”

Silas shrugs. “We had to get by somehow. We haven’t been in want of much our last few years.”

“Fair enough.” I find it difficult to remember the young man I had been at the start of this all. And the things he used to be willing to do as means to his ends. “We can think of new runs after tonight, I’m exhausted.”

“Race you?” Silas cocks a smile at me as we both peer ahead on the road into the orange haze that emanates from some town ahead. In general, more populous towns are up there with the least beautiful things I’ve seen, but seeing one now, I could cry. 

“Gods, I’ve become soft,” I note with a laugh for the night and a lament for who I once was. Then without warning I take off. Silas follows and lets me feel all right about myself for a few moments before he outstrips me. But damn me if it doesn’t feel good to get the blood pumping again. There would be much more up ahead of us. Whether I am ready to admit it or not, the slow life I thought I could lead is gone. If I want another chance at peace, I now lays on the other side of whatever Adventures are racing toward me.

Silas is waiting as I round the last corner before we run into the city. I am immediately surprised by its size. Easily thousands of people live here. A town of this size will most definitely be on a map.

And despite my general misgivings about the beauty of civilization, this town is beautiful. It forms out from the meeting of five valleys, a massive mound rising from the center. Houses are carved into the central mound as well as the five surrounding foothills. Natura orange and alchemical white lights spill out from doors and windows. It is geometric and symmetrical in a way that almost makes me dizzy to stare at. Still, stare I do. As we get closer, we start to see people milling about on the terraces, though few are in the streets. When we are almost upon the city, we realize why.

There are a few holes in the ring of road that surrounds the central mound. Each has a staircase and a gentle slope for carts descending down into the ground. Just as we peer into one, the light too far down to see clearly, a cart surprises us, rising out from below.

The draka pulling the small cart is more startled than us and the man driving it nearly tips. He turns back over his shoulder to swear at us as he careens off toward one of the other valleys. Looking at the base of each of the tenements, we see large gates, things of solid stone far too large to scale.

Silas and I shrug and make our way down to the tunnels below. 

Light and sound bathe us in the hustle of the city lurking below the surface. An entire other world existing in the veins that lead to each of the towns above. As we soon find out, the city extends down farther than it does up into the hills. We find food and drink, gleaning what we can from the locals and other travelers, then make our way to what we can conceive is an inn. 

“What an odd place,” I muse as we lay down in our beds some time later. “I have seen underground cities and market outposts, but it’s an odd combination.”

Silas grunts in agreement, but I can tell from his even breathing he is already asleep.

***

The next morning we wake well before the bustle of the day has started in our new subterranean city of Tremakis. Walking the tunnels where we are only accompanied by those that failed to make it home the night before. A few vendors are beginning their fires to cook breakfast, but the comparative roar of the night before has been washed away. Taking an aimless approach, we walk down various levels, many of which are quiet and residential. A few doors are marked for more clandestine activities on the deeper levels and after a fair appraisal we make our way back to the main level.

The whole place is hewn from the stone itself, much like to tenements we observed above. People from all over southern Uteria seem to reside here, a true crossroads town. As such, I know there will be Adventurers about, if not currently, the townspeople will be very familiar with them. Whether they will be friendly is another matter entirely.

Finding a subsection of jewelry vendors, we make our way through the stalls. I try to find one that doesn’t have anything similar to what I had stolen, but they are such basic jewels that I eventually settle on the most reasonable looking vendor. She’s a kindly old woman who favors me with a smile as we approach.

“Good morning,” I say sweetly, leaning over the trays of jewels she has presented.

“What can I help you with?” She reminds me of Miss Helar from Pelos and I shake off the roiling nightmare of their faces all twisted by Chaos.

I bring out the box of jewels and place them gingerly over the top of her table. In a low voice I start, eyes down. “My mother… she left these to me, but…” I wring my hands and let out a long sigh. “Times are tough and I need the money more than I need the memories.” I flash a small smile at the woman, searching for that tell-tale sympathy that precluded a good deal.

There was none.

After appraising the box for a moment, she leans back and simply says, “Twelve bits.”

I scoff. We’ve spent more than that already this morning on food. “I’m down on my luck, not out of my mind, good day.”

She laughs and waves us away casually. I know the jewels wouldn’t be worth much, but we need something to be able to make the next leg of our trip. We try a handful of other vendors, but they have been watching us and can see our desperation. In the end we wind up back in front of the first woman again, tails between our legs.

“Such a sorry lot,” she sighs. “How about twenty bits and you leave and stop making everyone around here so depressed?”

Twenty bits will get us through another day, maybe two if we’re frugal. We well and truly need to devise some new runs. Absently I chastise myself for not keeping Marius’s dagger, that might actually be worth something. Relenting, we accept the deal. As I bring out the box though, the woman catches sight of the chain around my neck. Her eyes narrow and my heart races. There are many places where selling Artifacts can lead to walking away richer than some small-time Sovereigns. There are others where the simple knowledge that you possess one can lead to a knife in the night.

I have no doubt Tremakis is the latter.

The woman is just about to ask about the ring hanging around my neck as I begin to wonder how she knew what lay beneath my clothes. Thankfully, I take the twenty bits from her hand just as a scream erupts from the main hall. Silas and I are off too fast for her to call after us, knowing whatever commotion lay before us was better than drawing the undue attention of having an Artifact.

But as with so many things lately, I am proven wrong almost immediately.

As we emerge into the main level we see a crowd all huddling around a woman on the ground. She is hardly twenty years and thin, blonde hair a tangled mess. She is staring defiantly up at two assailants.

There in the middle of the underground road is a Collector, pompous and draped in white that outshines anything in the town. On either side of the man are two looming figures clad in black. Sovereign Enforcers.

Silas is moving before I can think to stop him.