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.
The lack of recognition and respect bothered Theseus. The Draechai had been proud protectors of the people in ages past. Well, they still were in his lands. The sciences had progressed somewhat in recent centuries. He had noted complex irrigation channels on the way to the city. What other tricks had the common man learned on his own? Perhaps, they no longer needed the Draechai to call down rain for them or make their harvest ripen fuller and well before first frost.
"Can ye kind shepherds spare a cop or two?" A toothless man called out, sitting against the side of a shop, dressed in filthy rags, and no shoes covered his dirty feet.
"The Dark take you to your mother!" he shouted once they had passed.
Theseus didn't turn, but frowned nonetheless. Those who made no attempt to sustain themselves beyond the art of begging were pathetic. Such useless men were the real product of cities. All men worked, such as Nature required. There were no beggars in the forest. Only workers and food.
The Sharaen guided the small group across the city to the docks. Along the street, poor men begged for coins, scraps of food, or even ale. The inns and taverns were busy at the early hour, sailors and ruffians keeping them going day and night. Most of the men in the street either rode carts loaded with goods to and from the docks; or carried large sacks over their shoulders eyeing the carts with envy and the beggars with suspicion. A few children ran by, playing games that involved shouting and running into adults, such as pick pocketing and petty theft; typical children's games among commoners in the city. They would find little of value in his pockets, but his hand drifted into his pocket to clutch the wooden carving he had taken from Lasen's cottage.
"Inside here." Sharaen Ujal pointed to an inn that didn't stand out from any of the other old buildings. "The Shepherd's Wife. Not as bad as it looks."
The two-story building was composed of weather-worn wood, leaning slightly to the left. It looked old enough to have been the first inn built by the first settler of Lankhastaer, not seeming safe at all. Several shutters were missing or hung crooked by a single hinge. A few windows had a frame to suggest there had once been glass panes, but those had most likely been installed without the glass, unless this part of town had once been much cleaner, safer, and wealthier. Hanging on rusty chains from a bowed beam, a sign above the doorway depicted a faded green woman, but the writing beneath her was too worn to be read. A shepherd's crook had been painted next to her in fresh black, contrasting heavily with the other barely visible paint.
The common room of the inn passed for clean but the tables and chairs were all a bit rugged, having been repaired several times. There was a cold, unused hearth. A wide staircase led up and there was a wooden door in the back wall. A sleepy man wearing a brown shirt and pants sat at a table sipping dark soup and propping his head with one arm. He only stared at his spoon as he raised it to his open mouth, paying no heed to the four men entering.
Sharaen Ujal moved through the wooden door on the back wall, drawing a shriek from the hinges. A large pot hung above the red coals of a dying fire, but no cooks were present in the kitchen; only shelves, pots, pans, dishes, barrels, and sacks. The air was thick with the aroma of beef broth.
The elder Draechai moved to the back corner of the kitchen and pulled an iron ring, raising a trapdoor built into the floor. He let the heavy wood fall against the wall before proceeding down wooden stairs.
"Bring a lantern, Brother Hien," ordered the older man before disappearing into the darkness of the cellar.
Hien lifted a lantern from an iron hook on the wall and the wick burst into flame a moment later. Theseus allowed himself to be ushered down the stairs. The room below was crowded with barrels and sacks. The air was cool and musty.
"I wanted to use the brothel entrance," Farna lamented.
"You would," replied Hien.
Theseus was still uncertain of their destination, but remained silent. Most questions answered themselves in time, he knew. He did not fear a trap as they would not have needed to drag him this far to accomplish that. Still, he found it all so mysterious that he had to constantly remind himself.
Sharaen Ujal stood before an empty space on the back wall of the cellar. The rest of the cellar had been lined with stones, but a section had been removed to expose bare soil. He held an open palm towards the wall for a moment and the soil moved away from his hand, moving farther and farther, deeper and deeper, until finally there was a passageway descending into darkness.
The group moved down the sloping passage, ducking their heads.
"There are easier ways to get in," Brother Hien explained. "We have to be careful when there are higher numbers of Raujornians in the city. They are too curious. Always too curious about our activities. They certainly saw us enter the inn. They don't miss much, but I doubt they have any idea how to open that passage or where it leads."
Theseus nodded casually, trying to appear disinterested. There were many Raujornians in the city? Those wizards didn't do anything without a reason. Regardless of why they were there, their presence would complicate his retrieval of the girl, assuming she was still with Lastes. And it would be dangerous to face Raujornians without an Aune staff. He had too many questions to answer already.
"I was proud of my cave-in last year," Farna chuckled harshly. "They never knew what hit them."
"I'm certain they knew it was dirt. Yet, fortunate that they did not attribute it to us," Sharaen Ujal added. "They know of our presence down here, but they cannot be allowed to know all of our dealings. This place is by invitation only."
Theseus tried to hide any reaction to that. The Raujornians knew of the Draechai presence beneath the city, did they? It was astonishing that the Draechai even had a 'presence' beneath the city to begin with. It was more so that the Raujornians knew about it and did little about it. There was nothing of which the Raujornians were aware that they did not attempt to manipulate. Something was very wrong.
The passageway opened into a larger one, reaching ten paces high and fifteen paces wide. Everyone stood straight again as Sharaen Ujal waved his hand at the opening behind them. The soil shifted until the wall was solid and smooth once more, as if there had never been a passageway.
Theseus tried to control his expressions and avoided looking at the hidden opening. It would be difficult to escape if he couldn't leave through the same way which he had entered. He was uncertain if he could call upon Nature to move the soil in such a way, even if he knew where to try.
They walked along the soft earth of the large corridor, passing many dark openings. After they had passed at least a dozen, Theseus dared to ask, "Where do all of these tunnels lead?" If he asked no questions, they would know he was hiding his ignorance and interest.
"Most of them lead to places like that cellar," answered Brother Hien. "I cannot recall where they all lead, since I only use a few, but they go to just about everywhere in the city and to some places outside of the city. Almost all of them require a blessing from Nature to open at the far end, so we don't get many uninvited guests."
A blessing of Nature. A fragmented memory rose in Theseus' mind. He could sense it there, but couldn't focus on it. More frustration. He stared down a dark passageway, remembering that phrase being uttered while surrounded by darkness. It had been someone panicked and shouting at him. Or had he shouted at someone else? Something dangerous had been in that darkness, but what? It was futile. He couldn't recall.
"What are these tunnels? What are they used for?" Theseus pressed.
"It is our network of tunnels below even the sewers," Sharaen Ujal broke in before Hien could answer. Theseus sensed the other man would have given a more detailed answer. "We use these to get to places in the city. That is all."
Obviously, that was not all or the Sharaen wouldn't have bothered to say that it was. Why would Draechai have use for a network of tunnels beneath a large city? It didn't matter. Theseus wasn't concerned with what the Circle of Ujal did yesterday or tomorrow. He was only concerned with the next few hours, and then he intended to be on his way. They could keep their secrets.
"A few years ago, the roof gave way to the sewer above," Hien added with a disgusted look on his face. "Messy business that was. Took many months to clean it up properly. Though the waterfront had a fresh smell for about a week, while the sewage rotted down here."
Theseus despised sewers. A city of several thousand pouring their feces and refuse into the Shimmersea was intolerable. Men were not meant to live so close together in such great numbers. The effect on nature was always devastating. An army of Draechai should descend on every city and blast them to cinders. If he had time, he might take a look at the sewer system, though. Cities to the north had constructed quite complex systems which pumped in sea water to flush out the sewage; systems based on science and not magic. The waste didn't become as toxic if it didn't stand for weeks under the streets before it reached the sea. He decided against that idea. There certainly wasn't time.
"Wasn't that thirty years ago? You said it was a few years ago. Thirty is hardly a few," Farna laughed.
"Thirty is a few compared to nine hundred," Hien pointed out.
"Thirty is still thirty," Farna argued. "I don't care how old your robes are."
"Enough," Sharaen Ujal interrupted. "You can finish your debate later when no one with sense can hear it."
The corridor ended at another wall of earth. Sharaen Ujal waved his hand once again and the soil writhed away. When he lowered his hand, a stone wall with a wooden door filled the opening in the soil. The wall had been constructed of large blocks of rough stone; the stone cutter's tools left unmistakable markings. It had been built by laborers and not Draechai magic. Perhaps it led to another cellar.
Sharaen Ujal pushed the door, sending it open on well-oiled hinges, and stepped through with Farna close behind.
Hien smiled, leaning on his Aune staff. "You won't believe it."
Theseus didn't understand and could only blink in confusion before following the other two Draechai through the doorway. Brilliant yellow light stung his eyes, shining through dense, green foliage. Hien was correct; he didn't believe it.
Theseus stepped into the grand chamber. The far wall was two hundred paces away. Mosses and vines completely covered the gray stone walls and ceiling, looming fifty paces above. The ground was buried in knee-high grasses, flowering bushes, and even small trees. Eight marble pillars, covered in spidery vines with tiny blue flowers, reached to the ceiling.
The source of the powerful radiance was an Aun'kaena, an Aune staff reverted to a tree once again through a sacred ritual. It stood near the far wall, nearly as tall as the ceiling. The branches were bare of leaves and the top formed a loop, inside of which a small orb of energy cast the wondrous light, filling the chamber.
Theseus had seen an Aun'kaena before, he knew, but couldn't remember when or where. To create the effect, the Ra'Saen stone had to be very close, and a Draechai of great power had to use his own Aune staff to create it. Draechai could only have one Aune staff at a time, so they seldom created an Aun'kaena without a good reason. Theseus didn't consider an underground garden to be good enough reason, but it wasn't his staff, so it mattered little to him that an Aune had been wasted.
Then he felt it as much as saw it. In the center of the chamber, a ring of small square stones surrounded something dark which seemed to float above the ground. It was a sphere, at least a pace in diameter, with a dark surface that reflected a shadowy image of the fantastic chamber.
It was the Ra'Saen stone! Unbelievable that these Draechai kept it in a chamber beneath the city of Lankhastaer! There was no precedent for such a thing. They kept their most sacred artifact a few feet below a city of thousands of filthy and greedy men. The Circle of Ujal was a group of fools who had learned nothing from the histories. The millennia of wisdom of the Draechai had been wasted upon them. Dozens of Raujornians could sweep down upon their grove in the blink of an eye.
Theseus opened his mouth to chastise them for their stupidity, but bit back his harsh words. He would observe and nothing more. It would be foolish to anger them and a few words from him would mean little to them.
"A grand hall, is it not?" Sharaen Ujal asked proudly, sweeping his arm before him. "It has taken many decades to get it this far."
"Yuane is working on bringing a flowing stream from above," Hien added, excitement widening his eyes. "He has not figured out how to make it flow back up to the surface yet. It will likely require assistance—" His mouth snapped closed.
"Yes, Brother Hien," Sharaen Ujal finished for him. "It will require a blessing or two, I think."
Theseus had no idea what the man had almost said, but it was blasphemy on the highest level to use Nature to make petty symbols of vanity. This chamber didn't seem to have any purpose aside from looking good. It was a place to hold their Ra'Saen and inspire awe, which made him wonder within whom? Other circles kept their Ra'Saen in dangerous frontier lands and worked their magic to make the natural hazards even more so. Settlers might find the snow too deep, the rain too heavy, the ground too hard, or worse. Ra'Saen stones close to civilized lands were usually cleverly hidden, but never under a city with a hundred tunnels leading to it.
Dozens of wooden doors lined the walls, creating smooth brown patches in the green mosses and vines. The grasses along the wall had been trampled down by the passage of many feet in some areas, being trampled to the point of forming a path.
The foot of the Draechai touches not the soil of his precious land, let neither thicket nor bramble slow his stride.
It was part of a chant in the ancient tongue, which all Draechai had been taught. It only applied to the region of their Ri'Aen, of course. They left footprints like anyone else in foreign lands, unless they specifically called for the magic to part a path. Thus, the worn path meant that neighboring Draechai visited frequently, or other men entered the grove on a regular basis. Perhaps they had hired a gardener, he thought bitterly.
The well-traveled paths in the chamber were troubling. People who were not from this circle had apparently been using the network provided by the Draechai; or the Draechai were using someone else's network. His curiosity rose like a spring river against a levy of common sense, which told him that he already had enough with which to concern himself. He didn't want to be too curious, like Farna's buried Raujornians had been. Yet, not asking any questions could raise suspicion almost as much as a prying question. Whatever their activities, he was certain that it went against tradition. That would explain their contempt for Kajal, which had been beneficial thus far.
"Let's not spend all day gawking and letting bugs fly in our mouths." The elder thumped his staff against the ground three times before continuing along the wall.
Theseus could only follow.