Vipersong

9 || The City of Paradise

THE CITY OF SOL lay nested in the low cradle of the great Arcelian Mountains, the altar of the sky. According to legend, it had once been a colossal lake formed by an ancient underwater volcano many millennia ago, home to several coastal fishing villages, but after the Divine Wars' catastrophic effects on the world, the tides had gradually receded, giving way to drier land and allowing men to build freely. And build they did. With the peaked mountains and sharp, imposing cliffs circling them in a defensive ring strong enough to deter any army, humans constructed the greatest city in the world, stone by sunbaked stone.

When Valentina first laid eyes on it, it nearly stole her breath.

Worn by hours of travel, the group paused by a thatch of scrawny cypress trees atop a sheer, imposing cliff overlooking the city. Far below in the bowl of the steep mountain range, Sol glittered in the deepening evening light, a massive, sprawling city of white pearlescent houses with sapphire rimmed domes and a labyrinth of narrow paths and staircases. Cliffs with flat bellies the color of pale coral bowed over the whole of the city, which spilled outward, toward the sea as if drawn inexplicably to the shore. A distant harbor bristled with the masts of longships and sea-faring vessels, its great expanse hampered only by the distant outline of the Sarja Sea in the gap between the mountains. The Sarja flowed calmly, its surface unwrinkled and shining like blue taffeta.

"Wow," Valentina breathed. Already, she could feel the intoxicating aridity of the canyon plateaus and lushness of the distant green-patchworked mountains, could practically smell the brine of the salty bay ahead of her.

Sol. It truly was the Hidden City, a twinkling jewel tucked between the folds of rich verdant earth, locked in by the sea. The old Sun Sages had once deemed it paradise on earth.

"This way, Valentina," Ira called to her, tilting his head in the direction of the forest where they had emerged. "The path down to the city is this way."

With a slight press of her foot, she urged her mount eagerly onward.

The peaceful path through the forest lengthened into a broad, rambling avenue congested with dust and dirt and all manner of traffic—wooden carts and wagons carrying loads of vegetables and raw grains, people on cycles and people on foot, fine lacquered carriages escorting wealthy patrons whose faces could be glimpsed in slivers between yellow silk curtains. Warring tides of bodies clashed together as donkeys brayed and fowl clucked anxiously in their wooden cages. It seemed that everyone in the world was destined for the city.

"Excuse me, excuse me." She weaved her mount in and out of the clusters of people. Exhausted mothers jounced their screaming young children on their laps while young boys giggled as they dodged wagon spokes. The worn men riding mules studied her fine horse with gazes of naked envy as she passed. Tensing, Valentina gripped her reins tighter and kept a watchful eye for any flash of bladed silver. She was no stranger to desperate people or the desperate things they might attempt to do. And a good horse was better than gold in these parts.

But the three men riding beside her with the cache of weapons strapped to their backs must have been a persuasive enough deterrent because no one bothered her.

After a half hour of inching down the path amid the sea of travelers, she leaned in to whisper to Ira, "Are there always so many people on this road?"

"It's always been busy," Ira admitted. "But it hasn't always been this crowded. Many of these people are refugees coming from the eastern front."

That explained the vacant, lost look in the adults' eyes, even as their children screamed and waved to one another with unabashed excitement. Valentina's throat tightened. So many lives had been upended by the war. So many people searching for a renewed sense of hope, of liberty and security.