A Story of Cinders: From the Ashes

Chapter 7: Lonesome Town

     By nighttime on day six, the Brawler was growing restless. He still had no idea how Gray Wolf knew where he was going. Still he could notice the difference in the air. Hotter. Heavier. "Maybe he actually knows..." he said to himself, low and under his breath. Or he might be leading us to our death. Kill him! Kill him and the others! He gritted his teeth, slowly pushing the Baron to the back of his fragile mind. The Baron's cackling laughter gradually faded. Brawler took a deep breath, letting Louis retain control. He looked over at Gray Wolf and Sarge. The campfire they made was pitiful, but it did the job well enough, given the lack of burnable material left. It cast its light and warmth in the cold night of the desert, making that small area of effect actually bearable. Soon enough they would reach Pinnacle, if Gray Wolf indeed knew where he was going.

On midday of day seven, they had finally reached their destination. There it was, the front gate of Pinnacle. Made entirely out of sheet metal and steel I-beams. The walls were all sandstone, reaching up about forty feet high. The gates were electronically locked from the inside. Hundreds of people were lined up in front of the gate, desperately pleading with the guards to get in to the city. Nobody gets in without the Saint's permission. They walked past the guards. There was a small black box next to the gate. Nox walked up to it and pressed a red button. He spoke into it. "Anseo," he said. After a couple seconds, a voice responded in a thick Irish accent. "Hurry the fuck up through! I don't want these other savages trying to get in!"

The gate opened about just wide enough for them to enter one by one. Dozens of people tried to swarm in behind them, but the gate shut just as the Brawler passed through it. One unlucky person got their arm stuck in the gate. It slammed down on the arm and cut it right off like a horizontal guillotine. Sarge shook his head, wishing there was something to be done about them. An armed party of guards was waiting for them just inside the gates. They threw the severed limb off to the side, into a dark alleyway. Gray Wolf watched it bounce and roll down the alley, and saw something odd at the end of the alley. The air seemed to be shimmering. That was weird. Then it moved. Not towards him, but ducking into an intersecting alley. Nobody else noticed. Interesting... "You're to come with us to meet the Saint," said one of the guards. The city was rather small compared to those of the old world, but by modern standards, it was positively massive. Freshly constructed buildings made of wood and masonry towered over the city, casting much needed shade upon the baked desert ground. Most of the paths had cobblestone laid down. In the center of town, surrounded by old world style towers, there was a massive fountain. The water was clean to drink, and free to all citizens. The people were well nourished and groomed. When they had reached the fountain, the guards took them east up a large hill. The road was lined on all sides by shops and inns, bars and brothels, and dens of other such vices and inequities. Men were standing outside with flyers. One gave Sarge a leaflet for a Chinese-style opium den. Out of the corner of his eye, Gray Wolf caught sight of the shimmering air again. He watched it dart past them on the rooftops, headed farther down the road. He made note of it, but pretended he didn't notice. We're definitely being followed. At the end of the path stood a structure even more massive and grand than anything left standing for thousands of miles around: a giant mansion. Dozens of marble columns supported an old Georgian-style manor that sprawled for hundreds of feet. A pair of large, bronze doors swung open, and the party entered the foyer. Inside, it seemed even bigger. A gigantic crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, each crystal shimmering like a constellation. It sprawled for almost the entire diameter of the circular room. Two stairways led up to a balcony three stories above. There was an elevator at the end of the room. The party ascended the stairs and came to a long corridor. It was lined on all sides by oil paintings and tapestries. Some were hundreds of years old. Two suits of armor stood on pedestals at the midpoint of the corridor, facing in. Silent, metal guardians of a dark age long before. At the end of the hall was a pair of maple double doors. They were locked. "Wait here," said one of the guards. "He's in a meeting right now." From the inside, they could hear a man speaking in a thick Irish accent.