The Shattered Path

Chapter 11 - The Grove

The sun rose above the eastern horizon, burning through the morning mists of Lankhastaer. Shafts of golden light cut between the buildings. To the south of the city, the tents and booths of the Free Market sprawled from the outer wall. Tradesmen already hawked their wares, men and women moving among them. A castle loomed like a giant block of stone in the center of the city, a dozen banners displaying the roaring lion's head of the King of Denowith. The white stone of the Tower of Divine Light, a temple of Ravyneira, rose above all of the nearby buildings. There were other buildings, albeit less impressive ones, which stood against the skyline, but Theseus didn't recognize them.

Theseus followed the three Draechai, joining the other travelers on the dirt road to the eastern gate of the city. Carts loaded with vegetables, lumber, stone, or other trade goods rumbled in both directions. Well-dressed men on horses seemed not to notice the robed Draechai. Men wearing worn shirts and patched breeches, some with large packs on their backs, eyed the Draechai curiously, but did nothing to show respect or even recognition. Filthy men in ragged clothing with empty hands watched all of the travelers, keeping a good distance from the gates. They eyed the Draechai as dangerously as the rest of the traffic.

"We are almost there," assured Sharaen Ujal.

The Ra'Saen was a thing of natural wonder and magic. Draechai never kept it near a city. Never. Theseus could only guess why they were entering Lankhastaer. Perhaps to board a ship? Could it be that these Draechai weren't the local circle after all? He resisted asking their purpose for being there. He knew his silence could lead them to think he knew more than he did. Yet, he could not allow them to force him onto a ship, either.

By the standards of men, Lankhastaer was a successful port city, which always brought an influx of people, including settlers. That meant more farms, heavier deforestation, and further expansion into frontiers. As men tamed nature, it weakened the Ri'Aen. Theseus had heard stories among his people that some circles didn't teach men how to preserve the land while working it, but killed them in their sleep instead. He had never seen such a thing. It was futile to attempt to prevent expansion by settlers, because there would always be more. Men were like insects and wouldn't go away. It was best to guide them in the proper use of the land. The rampant deforestation and out of control farming in Denowith would soon wear down the Ri'Aen and it's Draechai, assuming it was somewhere near. What would these Draechai do when that happened? If they kept their Ra'Saen in such a place, they may have very weak powers anyway.

Ten guardsmen stood at the eastern gate, wearing leather jerkins and casually holding or leaning on spears. Only one of them troubled himself to watch the four Draechai. He could have been looking at four farmers for his expression.

None of the scurrying commoners seemed to notice the Draechai, many getting in their way or even bumping into them. Such disrespect was unheard of in Evershandor, Sendora, or Dalain. Of course, in those lands, the Draechai were known for aiding the harvest and only a fool would risk a poor harvest by disrespecting a priest of Nature.

They passed a walled compound with several wooden buildings and a stone hall rising well above the wall. An iron sign stretched above the gates, tall letters engraved in the metal read "Royal Academy of Magic." Theseus swallowed hard before he could catch himself. The custodian of the child, Lastes, was a sword instructor there.

Theseus watched a man in a black robe walk along the street. A hood concealed his face in shadow, but the commoners tripped over one another to make a path for him. He was Raujornian. Theseus felt his face grow hot as he considered how his own people were ignored. In Evershandor, the crowd might part for a Raujornian, but a passerby would spit in his wake and curse him for breathing; as long as he never turned around, of course. In lands such as Sendora, the black robed wizards were forced to tread lightly, seldom appearing. The Archaen, or Knights of the Sky, kept them from having any influence or causing trouble. Here, in the southern lands, the Raujornians were puppeteers, pulling strings on the rulers of nations and guilds, moving them as they chose. It was despicable, but it was about power and the Raujornians surely had it here. And that was because they controlled the magic. Their politics were rarely a problem for Draechai, at least, as much as he could recall.