chapter 2
previous chapter
There was an annual tradition among the Ancients called the Council Gathering. The Gathering originated as a war council, back when they actually had some enemies to wage war against. But by now, even the most bitter of enemies have died out with the unstoppable passage of time, and as the number of Ancients dwindled the Gathering gradually lost its importance.
These days, the Ancients did not debate much. When you've been stuck on top of a very tall mountain with the same people for several hundred years, your conversation options become rather limited.
But then, fate has an uncanny knack for dropping the metaphorical anvil on your head (metaphorically, of course) just when you least expect it.
* * * * *
The first thing Cantrip saw when he opened his eyes was the ruggedly good looking face of Seraph the bounty hunter. Cantrip's head was pounding like a stallion on steroids, and the rain seemed to have stopped. His tattooed arm was being held in an iron grip by the eyepatched stranger, who was staring at him intently, with a look that was disturbingly similar to how an owl stares at an unlucky rat.
Cantrip pushed himself into a sitting position. There was no sign of Prawn anywhere, and upon looking around he realised he was no longer on the rooftops. If ever there was a competition for the Most-Stereotypical-Alley-In-A-Fantasy-Setting, the alley he was in would win hands down. There was the prerequisite Dead End Wall at the end of the alleyway, the Assorted Rubbish Scattered Across the Floor, bonus points for the Clothes Hanging Overhead, a Shadowy Doorway set in one wall, and ah, in a nice stroke of creativity, there was also a Rat Scampering Into The Sewer Drainhole.
Cantrip blinked. "Who the bloody hell are you?" he muttered to the bounty hunter, but it came out of his mouth sounding more like "Hr brl herl u?" His mouth felt like it had been chewing enthusiatically on a hedgehog, and he had no idea which part of the City he was in. Still, he was in one piece, and the guy didn't seem to be in a hurry to stick any sharp pointy objects at him, so it could have been a lot worse.
"I am.... Seraph," replied the bounty hunter, carefully inserting a pause for dramatic effect. "And I have been sent to find you."
"Ah? Hm. And you were sent by...?" asked Cantrip, while his brain hurriedly went through a list of people who would bother to send people to find him. It was a very long list, and most of the candidates were people who seemed extremely interested in making his life very miserable indeed if he was ever found.
"By a.. benefactor. My instructions were to... retrieve you."
"Really? Well you can tell him I dont need to be found, thank you very much. And please, enough of the dramatic pauses." Cantrip winced and rubbed his head.
"What? Dramatic pauses are TRADITIONAL!" exclaimed Seraph, slightly hurt.
"Yea well, maybe it's time for a new tradition. Where's my friend?" Cantrip demanded. His headache was slowly fading away.
"Friend? You were lying here alone when I found you. Now come on, there's not much time."
Cantrip froze. "Wait.. you mean.. you didn't carry me all the way down here?"
"Er.. no? Is that a problem then?"
"I... nevermind." I'll find Prawn once I figure out what the hell is going on, thought Cantrip.
Seraph unbundled a small cloak, and handed it to Cantrip. He then unbuckled the little container from his ankle, and pulled out a dry parchment. He read it quickly, then carefully placed it back into the container. As Cantrip struggled into his cloak, Seraph lapsed into deep thought.
"Hm," he said eventually. "Come with me, kid. I've got some... unfinished business to take care of first."
Cantrip hesitated. Here was a total stranger, sent by an even more unknown person, and there was really no reason to follow him. He could try running now, and then hide in the many hiding places the City offers that few know of. But then again... Seraph was a bounty hunter after all, and one thing about bounty hunters was how.. relentless they were. They were very patient people. You may get away now, but you won't get away forever. And, Cantrip thought, if he tried to run and Seraph caught up, well, there were ways of making sure he did not run away again. Such as, for example, the inconvenient removal of several vital limbs.
Cantrip shuddered. Well, at least a little adventure into the unknown could turn out to be better than stealing apples for a living.
* * * * *
This Gathering was more solemn than usual.
There was a heavy silence in the air, as the five Ancients sat around the ceremonial Council table. It was built to comfortably seat 30 people, so there was plenty of extra space, but this time, even all that space seemed to be filled with silence.
Finally, Ancient Two stirred in his seat. The silence was unnerving. "Hm. Are you sure?"
"Very," replied Ancient One.
"Well, well. Hm. An interesting piece of news indeed. Hm. After all this time?"
"Yes. I was rather surprised as well, to tell you the truth."
The other three shifted uneasily in their seats. This was surprising news, and after being up here for so long, they did not enjoy surprises. Several hours ago, the messenger had arrived with the news, and minutes later, the Ancients hastily convened this emergency Gathering.
The Key had been found, and the Ancients were worried.
* * * * *
Seraph silently led Cantrip through the City streets. It was almost morning now, and the City was in that special zone between night and day.
The men (and women) of the various night trades were slowly starting to fade away. This includes, of course, the bartenders, the watchmen, the night clerks, and of course the men (and sometimes, women too) who spent the night in the shadows with a crowbar and a large empty sack, which is usually a lot less empty by morning. And now, as the night was slowly shoved out of the world by the encroaching daylight, they slowly faded into the background of the City.
As they shuffled along, the City woke up. Stalls were wheeled out and lined the roadsides, shops opened for business, street cleaners prowled the streets, butchers butchered, grocers grocered and blacksmiths blacksmithed. Overhead, the first airship of the morning glided past...
* * * * *
The airships were a fairly old invention: half the airship was a large balloon shaped like a rugby ball, with a sharp pointy spike screwed into one end. The passengers rode in a chamber attached below the balloon. Of course, it looked pretty ridiculous back when the whole ship just floated slowly along several hundred feet above the ground, so several ingenious methods of propulsion were employed in the early days, ranging from large fans turned by cranks to jets of fire shooting out the rear end. Unfortunately, the fans made little difference in the airship speed (although it did manage to raise the speed to one that was a little faster than crawling), and the jets of flame tended to annoy the occupants of the airship, because it's hard not be very annoyed indeed when the airship you are in is on fire and moving rapidly downwards.
So the dwarven airship engineers gave the matter some thought, and finally came up with a clean, safe and effective propulsion mechanism for the airships. Which is why every airship these days was pulled by a single white unicorn, freshly imported from one of the furthest outlying islands. Now, the airships were the most vital link between the City and the outlying islanders, who were presumed to be savage, barbaric, and inconveniently possessed a lot of raw materials that the City needed. So the trade routes flourished.
Cantrip gazed in wonder at the airship overhead as they hurried along. When he squinted, he could JUST make out what appeared to be a dolphin painted on the bottom of the ship. It was heading for the Spire, of course.
About a third of the way up the Spire, an extensive network of caves had been carved out of the rock, and a multitude of gates marked the many entrances and exits. The airship routes these days crawled across the entire world like nerve tendrils, and this was its very center. Men dressed in bright clothes stood on platforms that extended outwards from the Spire, and they enthusiastically waved little lollipop shaped handles in patterns that made sense to the airship pilots. Somewhere inside the Spire, a huge chamber housed the Control Room, where dozens of people work around the clock, coordinating the arrivals of departures of all the airships. Homing pigeons flew in and out of the Room every few minutes, carrying signals between the airships, the control room and the spotters in the small towers around the Spire itself. The busiest signal routes were proudly marked by a long and colourful streak of pigeon droppings.
The dolphin-painted airship glided past one of the big western gates, and vanished from sight. Inside, its cargo would eventually be unloaded at the correct platform, a thorough mechanical inspection would be performed and the unicorn would be exchanged for a fresh one for a return trip with more goods.
Seraph ducked into another side street and Cantrip scampered to catch up. He had no idea where they were headed, but Seraph was moving with a purpose now, pausing only occasionally to listen to nothing in particular.
At exactly eight o clock that morning, fruit started raining down from the sky.
next chapter
There was an annual tradition among the Ancients called the Council Gathering. The Gathering originated as a war council, back when they actually had some enemies to wage war against. But by now, even the most bitter of enemies have died out with the unstoppable passage of time, and as the number of Ancients dwindled the Gathering gradually lost its importance.
These days, the Ancients did not debate much. When you've been stuck on top of a very tall mountain with the same people for several hundred years, your conversation options become rather limited.
But then, fate has an uncanny knack for dropping the metaphorical anvil on your head (metaphorically, of course) just when you least expect it.
* * * * *
The first thing Cantrip saw when he opened his eyes was the ruggedly good looking face of Seraph the bounty hunter. Cantrip's head was pounding like a stallion on steroids, and the rain seemed to have stopped. His tattooed arm was being held in an iron grip by the eyepatched stranger, who was staring at him intently, with a look that was disturbingly similar to how an owl stares at an unlucky rat.
Cantrip pushed himself into a sitting position. There was no sign of Prawn anywhere, and upon looking around he realised he was no longer on the rooftops. If ever there was a competition for the Most-Stereotypical-Alley-In-A-Fantasy-Setting, the alley he was in would win hands down. There was the prerequisite Dead End Wall at the end of the alleyway, the Assorted Rubbish Scattered Across the Floor, bonus points for the Clothes Hanging Overhead, a Shadowy Doorway set in one wall, and ah, in a nice stroke of creativity, there was also a Rat Scampering Into The Sewer Drainhole.
Cantrip blinked. "Who the bloody hell are you?" he muttered to the bounty hunter, but it came out of his mouth sounding more like "Hr brl herl u?" His mouth felt like it had been chewing enthusiatically on a hedgehog, and he had no idea which part of the City he was in. Still, he was in one piece, and the guy didn't seem to be in a hurry to stick any sharp pointy objects at him, so it could have been a lot worse.
"I am.... Seraph," replied the bounty hunter, carefully inserting a pause for dramatic effect. "And I have been sent to find you."
"Ah? Hm. And you were sent by...?" asked Cantrip, while his brain hurriedly went through a list of people who would bother to send people to find him. It was a very long list, and most of the candidates were people who seemed extremely interested in making his life very miserable indeed if he was ever found.
"By a.. benefactor. My instructions were to... retrieve you."
"Really? Well you can tell him I dont need to be found, thank you very much. And please, enough of the dramatic pauses." Cantrip winced and rubbed his head.
"What? Dramatic pauses are TRADITIONAL!" exclaimed Seraph, slightly hurt.
"Yea well, maybe it's time for a new tradition. Where's my friend?" Cantrip demanded. His headache was slowly fading away.
"Friend? You were lying here alone when I found you. Now come on, there's not much time."
Cantrip froze. "Wait.. you mean.. you didn't carry me all the way down here?"
"Er.. no? Is that a problem then?"
"I... nevermind." I'll find Prawn once I figure out what the hell is going on, thought Cantrip.
Seraph unbundled a small cloak, and handed it to Cantrip. He then unbuckled the little container from his ankle, and pulled out a dry parchment. He read it quickly, then carefully placed it back into the container. As Cantrip struggled into his cloak, Seraph lapsed into deep thought.
"Hm," he said eventually. "Come with me, kid. I've got some... unfinished business to take care of first."
Cantrip hesitated. Here was a total stranger, sent by an even more unknown person, and there was really no reason to follow him. He could try running now, and then hide in the many hiding places the City offers that few know of. But then again... Seraph was a bounty hunter after all, and one thing about bounty hunters was how.. relentless they were. They were very patient people. You may get away now, but you won't get away forever. And, Cantrip thought, if he tried to run and Seraph caught up, well, there were ways of making sure he did not run away again. Such as, for example, the inconvenient removal of several vital limbs.
Cantrip shuddered. Well, at least a little adventure into the unknown could turn out to be better than stealing apples for a living.
* * * * *
This Gathering was more solemn than usual.
There was a heavy silence in the air, as the five Ancients sat around the ceremonial Council table. It was built to comfortably seat 30 people, so there was plenty of extra space, but this time, even all that space seemed to be filled with silence.
Finally, Ancient Two stirred in his seat. The silence was unnerving. "Hm. Are you sure?"
"Very," replied Ancient One.
"Well, well. Hm. An interesting piece of news indeed. Hm. After all this time?"
"Yes. I was rather surprised as well, to tell you the truth."
The other three shifted uneasily in their seats. This was surprising news, and after being up here for so long, they did not enjoy surprises. Several hours ago, the messenger had arrived with the news, and minutes later, the Ancients hastily convened this emergency Gathering.
The Key had been found, and the Ancients were worried.
* * * * *
Seraph silently led Cantrip through the City streets. It was almost morning now, and the City was in that special zone between night and day.
The men (and women) of the various night trades were slowly starting to fade away. This includes, of course, the bartenders, the watchmen, the night clerks, and of course the men (and sometimes, women too) who spent the night in the shadows with a crowbar and a large empty sack, which is usually a lot less empty by morning. And now, as the night was slowly shoved out of the world by the encroaching daylight, they slowly faded into the background of the City.
As they shuffled along, the City woke up. Stalls were wheeled out and lined the roadsides, shops opened for business, street cleaners prowled the streets, butchers butchered, grocers grocered and blacksmiths blacksmithed. Overhead, the first airship of the morning glided past...
* * * * *
The airships were a fairly old invention: half the airship was a large balloon shaped like a rugby ball, with a sharp pointy spike screwed into one end. The passengers rode in a chamber attached below the balloon. Of course, it looked pretty ridiculous back when the whole ship just floated slowly along several hundred feet above the ground, so several ingenious methods of propulsion were employed in the early days, ranging from large fans turned by cranks to jets of fire shooting out the rear end. Unfortunately, the fans made little difference in the airship speed (although it did manage to raise the speed to one that was a little faster than crawling), and the jets of flame tended to annoy the occupants of the airship, because it's hard not be very annoyed indeed when the airship you are in is on fire and moving rapidly downwards.
So the dwarven airship engineers gave the matter some thought, and finally came up with a clean, safe and effective propulsion mechanism for the airships. Which is why every airship these days was pulled by a single white unicorn, freshly imported from one of the furthest outlying islands. Now, the airships were the most vital link between the City and the outlying islanders, who were presumed to be savage, barbaric, and inconveniently possessed a lot of raw materials that the City needed. So the trade routes flourished.
Cantrip gazed in wonder at the airship overhead as they hurried along. When he squinted, he could JUST make out what appeared to be a dolphin painted on the bottom of the ship. It was heading for the Spire, of course.
About a third of the way up the Spire, an extensive network of caves had been carved out of the rock, and a multitude of gates marked the many entrances and exits. The airship routes these days crawled across the entire world like nerve tendrils, and this was its very center. Men dressed in bright clothes stood on platforms that extended outwards from the Spire, and they enthusiastically waved little lollipop shaped handles in patterns that made sense to the airship pilots. Somewhere inside the Spire, a huge chamber housed the Control Room, where dozens of people work around the clock, coordinating the arrivals of departures of all the airships. Homing pigeons flew in and out of the Room every few minutes, carrying signals between the airships, the control room and the spotters in the small towers around the Spire itself. The busiest signal routes were proudly marked by a long and colourful streak of pigeon droppings.
The dolphin-painted airship glided past one of the big western gates, and vanished from sight. Inside, its cargo would eventually be unloaded at the correct platform, a thorough mechanical inspection would be performed and the unicorn would be exchanged for a fresh one for a return trip with more goods.
Seraph ducked into another side street and Cantrip scampered to catch up. He had no idea where they were headed, but Seraph was moving with a purpose now, pausing only occasionally to listen to nothing in particular.
At exactly eight o clock that morning, fruit started raining down from the sky.
next chapter
posted by nerdook at 2:48 PM
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