The Sword Unbroken

Chapter Thirty One: Deep

The ancient city of Lakara nestled in the foothills of the Sinaturns with all the gnarled grace of an old-growth forest. Imalroc squinted down at the city from his vantage place in the cage, rocking over the narrow road that lead down into Lakara's valley. At the heart of the city, enormous structures of white marble gleamed in the sunlight, throwing a blinding glare back to the world. Amid the ivory buildings, he could make out River Lakara threaded through the city like a sapphire ribbon. In the distance, the jagged teeth of the snow-capped Sinaturns cut into the sweep of blue sky.

It was a breathtaking sight, but Imalroc's stomach was churning with the kind of nerves he had not felt since being carted into Kirinoll for the first time. The only battleboxes he had ever fought in besides the houses of Kirinoll were the desert camps in Swirn. He knew nothing about the battleboxes here, nor the fighters who called this place home. The city that glittered before him swirled with dangers yet undiscovered.

He could not deny that the land was absurdly beautiful. Winter wildflowers dotted the ground beside the roads, and the sunlight shafted through untouched forests. Rerdas had come from here. Further north than Lakara, he had said, but still woods like these. It suited the huntmaster, and it was too easy for Imalroc to picture Rerdas slipping through the alpine sunlight. Perhaps he had learned to hunt in these green foothills. Perhaps he had waded through the frigid, babbling water of these rivers. Perhaps he had lain in these meadows. Most likely not alone.

The battleboxer let his forehead rest against the side of the cage, his eyes closed. They had barely exchanged two words since the conversation in the kitchen. Rerdas had left early the following morning for Marasette, and undoubtedly spent most of the day in the Duke of Umber's bed. Imalroc felt a dull ache near his stomach. Chalk it up to hunger, mixed with the tang of something he was vaguely surprised to recognize as jealousy.

The woods were clearing, and they passed a few houses scattered on the outskirts of the city. Gradually, the thatched roofs and whitewashed walls gave way to old stones, highlighted green with florescent streaks of moss. They entered the city proper, where great gabled houses leaned right up against the winding road. There were none of the ornate courtyard walls that marked the homes of Kirinoll's nobility, but the tall fortresses they sailed past, with their masks of ivy and wisteria, had their own aura of wealth around them. Imalroc bounced in the cage, his teeth clicking against each other as the wagon rattled down a path rippled with snaking tree roots.

Without warning the houses and trees fell away and they emerged from shadows onto a broad road of golden sand. Imalroc scooted to sit squarely in the middle of the cage. He fixed his eyes on the carriage ahead of him, resolutely ignoring the people they were passing.

Even so, he felt the prick of curious eyes. In his periphery, he could see three children, short little legs jogging along to keep up with the carriage. They were carrying knapsacks of books over each shoulder, and they swung them around in excitement. The noise of the road drowned out their calls.

The cage and carriage slowed as they approached a wide bridge choked with carts, wagons, travelers and what looked to be soldiers. Their cloaks were patterned with Lakara's crest, and no one skirted them the way the residents of Kirinoll avoided the Red Guard. Still, Imalroc took care to avoid their gaze.

Across the bridge at last, they pulled to the side of the road, and Imalroc darted a glance up at the ornate structure they had stopped beside. It was a lavish building of stained red wood overgrown with bittersweet vine, its orange blossoms cascading along the balconies of the upper levels. The sharply peaked gable roofs that seemed so popular here cast long shadows in the waning afternoon light. In front lay a decorative garden; a riot of winter flowers crowding around bright squash and pumpkins arranged with too much care to be entirely natural.