The Hollow

Arch

Omega sat on the rumbling deck and stared at the white horizon through wooden goggles. Nom crafted them the first hour they got underway, carved from scraps they found belowdecks of the salvaged windship, ground smooth, oiled and waxed. She was both relieved at replacing the scarf around her eyes, and emotionally touched. They were reminiscent of her original pair, a family heirloom of traditional snow goggles. Even the smell reminded her of home.

He had been grateful to her for removing his manacle, and she had another surprise for him, too. She had salvaged his spear tip, along with the other weapons, and also Omuti's knitting needles, or whatever they were. He held his old blade for a long while, turning it over in his hands, then gave it back to her.

"You hold on to it. Use it as a dagger, or I'll teach you how to use a spear. I've done too much with it, and I think this old man will stick with the Mule." She shrugged and agreed. He cringed inwardly at his foolish self-importance. She could use the combat training, but any sentiment attached to the item was his own.

The windship had been fully operational when they investigated, but it took days to dig out of the sand and clean. That was ample time to recover supplies from the remains of the farm to outfit their voyage. They could have fit other passengers on the ship, and even benefitted from the crew, but did not find a single other survivor in Zulm.

"How long, do you think, to get there?" she asked.

"Honestly, I don't know," Nom admitted. "I walked to the mines once while serving in the legions, and it took well over a fortnight. So probably less than that," he said, waggling his hand at the sails, "but as I've said, paths are different in the Hollow."

In a few days they reached the savannah, then kept the sparse tree line on their left for the same number of days before turning south. Nom didn't bother coming up with a rhyme for his directions, but was sure Solus would be proud of the vagueness. When the trees became more dense and lush, he knew they were getting close. On the eighth day, Rabidi appeared on the horizon.

"It's blue!" Dev exclaimed.

"Aye, parts of it," Nom said, "especially the newer parts."

"Never mind blue," said Ahden, "it actually exists! Rabidi is nearly a myth in the north." Nom felt his own existence provided some proof, but he knew the city had its own majesty. He had never seen anything else like it in the world. Even Endo in its heyday was different. Whereas Endo sprawled and tapered into the surrounding riverland, Rabidi defined the terrain, clawing its claim over the land, pumping residency into every square mile. There was nothing outside of it but the nearby forest, then endless windswept steppe.

It had no city wall, other than ancient vestiges in the oldest quarters by the cliffs. It had no need of one, protected by its legions, geography, wealth, regional importance, and sheer size. Even in Nom's lifetime it had expanded too rapidly for any wall to be practical. Instead, it had a series of ceremonial gates, arches really, expanding from the city center, the outermost and largest of which grew to monumental scale as they approached.

By now they clearly sailed on a road, but rather than following the obvious larger path to a docking point, Nom directed them to the ceremonial entrance to the city. He knew the shipyard was gone. When they were close, Ahden commanded "Avast," and Dev helped him pull the ship to a stop. They all hesitated to climb out.

The arch was the outermost structure of the city, dozens of feet high, covered with a veneer of blue-glazed bricks and half-crumbled portions of colorful reliefs featuring horses, ships, mythical beasts, and very large portrayals of the emperor. Much of the outer layer had fallen off, covering the foundations in a mound of debris from which sprang overgrown vines and trees. Elaborately inlaid paving stones encircled the arch, marking the start of Rabidi's paved streets.