Otherworld: A Son of Two Realms

Chapter 31: "Ghost Town"

An unbroken line of tents, trebuchets, catapults, siege towers, and men hugged the horizon; hundreds and hundreds of men, dressed in boiled leather armor and animal hides, shaking spears and banging swords against wooden shields.

"Is it Wednesday already?" Korda said. "You'd think they would tire of this after a year."

"A year?" Jack said, looking to Saunder for explanation. In reply, Saunder nodded behind them. Jack turned and gasped.

It was Ahkard. They had arrived directly in between the besieged capitol city and Cera's brigand army. It struck Jack how similar this real Ahkard was to the model version built for the films. Now, at least, Jack understood his father's obsessive quest for accuracy. At first glance, the city seemed too small for its inhabitants. Rows of homes and buildings were packed so tightly together that Jack feared they might spill out into the moat if the walls were ever breached. Before that could happen, though, someone would have to punch a hole in the pair of thick curtain walls, so tall that even the Brigand Army's siege towers would not scale them.

While the capitol was a perfect specimen of uninspired urban sprawl, the White Palace rose out from the center in stark contrast. A massive round tower built of milk stone and white marble glistened above the hundreds of drab mud and brick buildings, its base hidden behind a shorter stone wall. A dozen thin spires poked out above that wall like mushrooms, though none rose higher than the Palace's domed roof, atop which another oblong tower climbed into the sky.

Jack was still admiring the Palace when the ground rumbled. He turned just in time to see the line of trebuchets launch massive stone boulders high into the air. The boulders arced overhead with frightening momentum, descending at the perfect angel to strike the outer wall. But the moment they crossed over the moat, each boulder exploded into a preposterous fireball. As the rest of the barrage fell, the ground shook with explosions and a rain of dust sprinkled the ground.

Korda wore a satisfied smile as he watched Jack's eyes widen in amazement. "Our shield continues to hold."

Archer scoffed. "Thanks to the hundred magicborn you've kidnapped. Are you proud that their sacrifice keeps you from having to fight for yourself?"

Korda's smile didn't waver. "Their sacrifice is for the good of the realm. When my father's armies liberate the other cities, Cera will have no place to flee. That is when we will crush him."

"And no doubt the magicborn will be honored as war heroes. Once you release them, of course."

The Prince ignored the remark as the city drawbridge was lowered and riders emerged, holding the reins of a dozen other stallions. The prisoners were each placed onto a horse, though Jack had trouble mounting his. One of the smaller knights had to jump on and ride with him, much to the delight of the other Kingsmen. Korda led them into the city and the hoots and shouts of the army faded in the distance.

The capitol was a ghost town. It wasn't just a lack of people in the empty avenues and alleyways but a lack of anything. In Perdan, the streets had been littered with garbage, abandoned carts, empty barrels, and weeds growing between the stone road. The streets of Ahkard were picked bare, as if a tornado had picked up every loose item in the city, leaving behind only dirt and rot.

From the movies, Jack had expected the city to be alive with the roar of livestock, the cries of merchants, and the songs of minstrels. But the roar of the Brigand Army was the only sound beyond the clip-clops of their horses. They rode for ten minutes through the winding streets and Jack saw a handful of souls – beggars buried beneath rags who shunned their faces the moment they saw the royal entourage approach.

"Where is everyone?" Jack finally asked.

"Inside, starving to death," Archer said under his breath.