NEWCOMERS IN THE ELDEST CITY (II)

Finally I have managed to finish this kind of short story set in the city of Queitaris a few years before the events of "El Héroe Durmiente". Like anything else regarding the blog, this has been stucked for many months, but now it is completed (sigh of relief...).
Once again I do apologise for the awful grammar and the many mistakes that I'm sure fill this text. Any feedback is more than welcome.
Enjoy the conclusion of this short adventure, and keep in touch for more blog updates!

NEWCOMERS IN THE ELDEST CITY (II)

Sënn looked around, scared like never before. He was alone in that narrow and silent street, with absolutely no idea of the way back to the inn. Gasping and shivering, he slowly walked down the street while trying to hold his breath a bit. But the night was cold and dark; the thief had vanished with his valuable silk and his stomach was painfully arguing for a bite of warm relief.

“And now what shall I do? –He though, freezing under his thin cloak.

He kept walking aimlessly, with no other light than the pale shine of the stars upon his head. The city slept deeply, his quiet rest only broken by the gentle song the wind played with the branches of the trees. Sënn felt lonely and miserable, and cursed those same streets he had so deeply admired just a couple of hours before.

Suddenly he glimpsed a red light dancing beyond a line of bushes. It was a warm and inviting glow, likely a torch or a lamp, and Sënn hastened and turned around the corner to find him in front of a weird scene. A tall man stood still under an old Holm oak, his hands raised over his head. A small fire was lit in a little brazier next to him, and the flames painted a mask of red and shadow upon his face. A woman and a kid waited in front of him, their eyes shining with respect, expectation and maybe a bit of fear.

Sënn froze and look at them, amazed. The man was chanting in a low, trembling voice. His arms shook like leaves waved by the wind, dangerously close to the flames. Suddenly the woman raised a hand and pulled the man’s hand into the fire. Sënn shout with surprise and dismay, but the man did not complain and kept chanting despite the awful smell of burnt meat.

“What are you looking at, you worm?!

A pair of vile eyes stared at him. The woman had an ugly face distorted by suspicion. Sënn gulped and stepped back.

“I... I... I am...

“Shut your bloody mouth up and get the hell out of here, you scum!!

Sënn nodded and slowly pass by the trio, paying no attention to the woman’s expression of disgust as his eyes were still focused on the mysterious man who kept murmuring his ominous charm.

“Stupid kid... you could have broken the spell. –The woman spitted, turning his head towards the man.

Sënn walked away quickly, but he abruptly stopped as the flames grew up and the man screamed with pain and surprise. Sënn looked back and gave a start, stunned by the twisted face of the man. The fire drew a strange symbol in his forehead, a third eye set in the shape of an hourglass.

“He’s sailing the River of Time! –The woman cried, delighted, and pulled her kid’s hand towards
the fire–. Quickly, Prophet! Tell me the fate of my son! Tell me how to run away from the Storm of Doom!

The kid started to cry as he felt the flames close to his skin. But the man ignored the woman prayers and slowly walked towards Sënn, his eyes veiled by a white shine, his face deformed by distant visions.

“You are the first drop... –He gasped, his skinny finger pointing at Sënn–. You are the first drop of a terrible rain. You are the small stone that announces the landslide. You... insignificant boy... lost in the shadows of the Eldest City... you...

The man stepped once more and hit the brazier with is right foot. The flames roared and ate his robes, lighting the corner under the Holm branches. The woman cried, horrified, and took her son in her arms. Sënn tried to run away, but his legs were frozen and his heart beat like a drum calling for battle. The man took another step, his worn gown partially devoured by the flames climbing towards his chest.

“You... you... the first drop... –He said, his voice almost broken–. You... you better run... run... RUN!!... RUN AWAY NOW!!!

Finally his legs came to life and Sënn turned back and ran as fast as he could, escaping from that horrible corner and that ominous man. He ran until the screams of pain and fear faded away and his chest started to hurt. Breathless, he stopped in the middle of a wide street, with no other lights than the starts over his head.

Gasping and shivering, he walked slowly along a file of pine trees. Such a quiet place that street was that for a second he though all what he had seen was just a nightmare. But that terrible smell was still floating in his nose. Besides, he was still lost in the big city and there was no chance of recovering the valuable silk.

“Gods… what a horrible place! –He cried, sitting on the cold ground, feeling hungry and miserable. Where have all those marvels gone? Where was that bright city full of people and joy? Now he only saw darkness and solitude around him, and the quiet cracking of the branches which sounded like a wicked laugh at him.

He sobbed for a while, nestled under the pine tree. But he had been raised in a merchant family, and he knew that just complaining and waiting for a solution was useless. He had to move and at least try to come back with his uncle. As for the silk... there was nothing he could do for it right now.

A bit more calmed, Sënn stood up and walked down the street. It ended in a big avenue half covered by orange trees. There was a fine scent under the branches that somehow raised his spirits and made him walk faster. Some lights shined here and there, torches hanged in the walls and candles behind some windows. Life sparks that helped him lighten his loneliness. He thought he might find somebody kind enough to help him find the inn.

After a while, the avenue ended in a square. The ground was covered by an ancient, cracked cobblestone, and there were many olive trees. There was a fountain right in the middle, a pool of calm water with a fractured and eroded rock in its centre. A trickle of water flew out from the stone cracks.

Sënn approached the fountain and saw his reflection in the water: a pale face crowned by the trembling lights of the stars. For a second he forgot all his troubles and felt a funny calm, like he was far beyond pain and worry, beyond any harm or joy. Just a shadow under the olive trees, less that a spirit, only attached to live through the vague image captured by the water mirror.

“This is not a common fountain... –He managed to think, his mind almost defeated by a strong desire of sleep and oblivion–. What’s this? It is like a window... like a door opened to... to what?

Suddenly that weird feeling of non-existence vanished and Sënn found himself looking at a dark pool of rough water. His reflection had disappeared amid a twist of foam. A cold wind was blowing across the square and its chilly voice made him shiver. There was no more feeling of serenity now, but a rising sense of danger and warning.

“What’s going on?

He walked away the fountain, amid the olive trees, hesitating whether to hide or just run away again. But before he could decide, somebody grabbed his hand and pulled him down behind a small stone bench. Sënn tried to scream, but a hand firmly covered his mouth.

“Shut up kid, or we are dead!

It was a nervous voice whispering in his ear, but somehow kind and friendly. Sënn nodded and stopped fighting.

“That’s better lad. Now keep quiet and don’t move.

Sënn nodded again and curled up behind the bench, next to that mysterious man. It was dark under the trees, but Sënn could see that he was short and wore a tunic and some kind of gown. His eyes were deep black but glittered like gems touched by a bright light. He seemed anxious and looked around uneasily.

“So, mate, who are you and what in the world are you doing here? –He whispered with an easy tone of voice, like trying to hide his worries.

“M... my name is Sënn. I’m f... from...

“…Moi’Xian. That for one is obvious, lad. And from a merchant family, isn’t it? That’s not so obvious but still quite easy to figure out.

“How do you... –Sënn was so amazed he couldn’t finish the question. Besides, the man was again looking around like he had lost any interest on him.

“You’re lost, don’t you? –He asked after a while. Sënn nodded–. Poor fool! I wouldn’t say Queitaris at night is a safe place for a naïve moijurean kid like you... but this is a particularly dangerous place and a particularly dangerous night! What were you thinking about, kid?

“I... I... I don’t... It wasn’t...

“Enough chatter. He’s almost here.

“Who’s here? And who are you? What’s this place? What...

“Shhhhh!!! –He covered his mouth again, worried–. I told you to be quiet, remember? This is the Fountain of the Immortals, the most ancient place of this quite ancient City. And for the rest of your questions... trust me; it is much better for you not to hear the answers. Just keep in mind that you owe me your life... so far.

“But...

“Shut up!!

The man was really serious now and Sënn didn’t dare speaking again. Besides, he was really scared now. He felt a discouraging shadow slowly covering the square, like a mist of fear that haste the beats of his heart and froze his thoughts. For a moment the need of running away took control of him and he tried to stand up and escape. The man grabbed him and warned him in a low but frightened voice. Sënn fought for a while, until the man beat him in the stomach and grabbed him for the neck. There was a murmur of words, and Sënn felt a sudden weakness. Incapable of standing still, he fell down with a deep sight.

“You owe me your life twice now. –The man said–. But it may be not enough yet... Now keep quiet and for all the Gods’ sake, don’t move!!

It was pointless to say that as Sënn was so weak he couldn’t even open his mouth. The man smiled and then looked at the fountain, his face turned into a pallid mask of worry.

“There he is...

The man seemed like a statue. Sënn felt the cold ground in his back and the chilly bite of the wind in his face, but he realised he couldn’t hear the fountain anymore. Actually there was no sound in the square, and he thought he had become deaf. But he could certainly hear his own heart, and the deep breathing of the man next to him.

After a few seconds, his body started to recover a bit of strength and he managed to stick his head over the bench. First he saw nothing, but then he realised there was a figure standing in front of the fountain. It was a tall and thin figure, cloaked in dark robes, the hand slowly waving over the water surface.

“What’s he doing? –The man whispered to himself. He looked really concerned now.

The cloaked figure splashed the pool, but there was no sound of water. A gloom of blue light rose instead, covering the figure with a mist of shiny drops. Sënn gave a start and hide his head behind the bench.

“Witchcraft!! –He muttered, frightened.

“Sorcery, if you please. A very uncommon one, though. The question is: what for?
He stared at the mysterious figure, ignoring Sënn’s expression of terror.

“What do you intend to find here? –He murmured–. Oh, if I could get just a bit closer!

“No, please! –Sënn cried, holding his arm–. He’s an evil sorcerer, for sure. Let’s run away while we can, please!

The man grab Sënn’s hand and for a moment the boy though he was about to be beaten. But instead he just felt a caress in his forehead and a sudden feeling of relief.

“Calm down, kid. I’ll let you here in a deep and safe sleep. Tomorrow you won’t remember anything. Just calm down...

“No... Please no... –Sënn’s eyes closed and he started to sink in a warm, inviting dream. But it broke down when he hear the man’s voice cursing next to him.

“Damn, damn!!! Gods’ grief, not now!!

Sënn heard the noise of horses and men shouting. He woke up, still a bit dizzy, and looked over the bench. A few horsemen had stopped next to the fountain, around the cloaked figure. They carried spears and shields, and some of them had also torches.

“What is...? Who are...?

“Be quiet. –The man urged–. They are Iron Riders, the most loyal soldiers of the Archon. They are Soloscrán’s dreadful bodyguards.

“The... the Archon?

“That’s what I said. –The man raised his head a bit over the bench to see better the fountain and the horsemen–. I also said bodyguards. Do you understand?

Before Sënn could answer, the men became suddenly quiet. One of them dismounted and walked towards the cloaked figure. At the trembling light of the torches, Sënn saw a hint of a black armour under the white tunic and the purple cape. That man brandished a strange spear, just as long as his height and with a large, dark blade. His face was covered by a purple hood.

“Why are you here? –The man in the armour asked to the cloaked figure. He had a menacing voice,
full of authority–. You have a task to fulfil. Why are you wasting your time here?
The cloaked figure turned back, like he had finally realised he was surrounded by the horsemen.

“My lord Soloscrán… –He said, bowing his head. He had a deep, warm voice–. I was just walking around, enjoying this wonderful night. The stars...

“Fuck the stars and fuck you, sorcerer!! –The Archon shouted, beating the ground with his spear–. Don’t dare piss me off!! I know your dark soul better than any other living being. Your twisted mind is always working in the shadow, isn’t it?

He waved the spear right in front of the sorcerer’s face, who didn’t move. He just stood there and bowed his head again, putting his throat dangerously close to the blade of steel.

“I’m your servant and my wish is just to serve you well, my lord. That’s the only reason of all
my efforts.

Soloscrán put down the spear and laughed, loud and surly.

“You lie to me, but it is useless, you pitiful sorcerer, for I am the Archon of Queitaris and the sovereign of all Helárissos. You are still of use for me, and so I’ll keep you alive... for now. Remember that: your life is in my hands. Now come back to the Stronghold, you have a task to do and I need it done before tomorrow dawn. Is it clear?

“Of course, my lord. –The sorcerer answered; his voice filled with sarcasm–. Let us merge in the shadows again, where our dark souls are tied together and our deepest desires are revealed.

The sorcerer bowed again and, after a quick look at the fountain, walked away, vanishing in the night. The Archon grunted, clearly disturbed by the sorcerer’s last words, and got closer to the fountain. He looked at the calm water and hit the surface with his spear.

“Curse him!! –The short man muttered, disappointed–. All my efforts during those days wasted in the last moment! –He looked at Sënn and showed a sad smile–. You see, lad, how the Gods laugh at us. You should never trust them.

“What do you mean?

“Never mind, boy. I’m done here and I have to go. You should do the same. Come back to your people and flee from this city before the storm catches you.

“But I’m lost! I can’t…!

Sënn fell silent. The man was already gone and he was alone again. Looking over the bench, he saw the Archon and his men still gathered around the fountain. Soloscrán had just mounted his horse.

“To the Stronghold, Riders!! –He shouted, waving his weird spear over his cloaked head–. Call back the sentinels, Captain Nemicles!!

“Yes my lord.

“I better wait until they’re gone… –Sënn thought, and hid behind the bench, hoping not to be found by the Archon guards. But the sound of a horse trot behind him made him gave a start.
Scared, he turned his head and held his breath, terrified. An Iron Rider had stopped very close to him, under an olive tree. He was apparently waiting for another one which was a few metres afar, slowly moving towards them.

“Hurry up, Calakés! –Shouted the closer rider–. Our lord is calling us!

“Hold on, Merios! Something’s wrong with my horse. He’s limping.

“Damn. The Captain’s gonna crush our heads if we are late.

Sënn tried not to make a single noise, petrified. Miraculously they had not seen him yet, but they were so close they may hear even the sound of his heart hammering his chest. He closed his eyes and quietly prayed to the spirits of all his ancestors, asking for just a bit of good luck.

Suddenly he felt a warm breath right in his face. He slowly opened an eye and found the horse snout sneaking over his head. The horse touched him and neighed, attracting the attention of the two riders.

“What the… somebody’s here!!!

There were cries and the menacing sound of steel, and Sënn found himself running blindly amid the trees. He could hear angry voices behind him, curses and the gallop of the riders getting closer and closer.

He stumbled with the cracked cobblestone and fell down behind another stone bench. A horse jumped over both the seat and his head, and Sënn heard a cry of rage and a horrible curse. Terrified, he got up as fast as he could and ran again, avoiding the trees by mere chance.
Suddenly he was again in the avenue with orange trees. He stopped, gasping, and looked around. There was no sight of the riders, but he could still hear the horses’ gallop and the threatening voices of those men. Sënn prayed silently for the gods’ mercy and walked away, hiding between the orange trees.

After a few minutes Sënn found a small alley almost concealed by two lush lemon trees. He ran into it and fell down in the sandy ground, his breath almost gone and his legs trembling of exhaustion and fear. For a moment he closed his eyes and tried to calm down. He started to think he might have escaped.

Suddenly he heard two voices quarrelling. Surprised, he got up and walked away as quietly as he could. But then he realised those were women’s voices which came from an opened window in the building next to him. Sënn’s thoughts fought between caution and curiosity, but the later proved to be stronger, particularly after he heard the word “Archon”.

Fearing his own shaking legs, Sënn walked towards the window and fell on his knees. A bit of light came out between the shutters, mixed with the voices. One of them was warm, confident and a bit angry. The other was soft, cold and yet even more angry.

“This situation has gone too far, Bresia. We must do something! –Said the first voice.

“Like what? –Answered the second voice–. What do you pretend us to do, Atela? We have sworn loyalty to the Archon.

“But he is crazy! He is a bloody lunatic!

“Our oath does not include any clause regarding the Archon’s sanity.

“Oh, don’t piss me off, Bresia! You talk like one of those miserable courtiers that surround him in his Stronghold. We are Guardians of Hacra, for the Gods’ sake! We are warriors and sentinels of Queitaris, not servile dogs willing to carry out the slaughter Soloscrán desires!

“We are warriors, indeed, and thus we must obey our leaders. The First and Second Sword have not yet talked against the oath.

“C’mon, Bresia, you know both of them despise Soloscrán and his madness. Even the Grandmother has suggested that our Order should break any alliance with the Archon.

“Rumours, idle gossip! –The cold voice grumbled–. You don’t know that. We are mere pawns in this game, Atela. It is not our duty to decide such complex matters.

“There’s a war coming, Bresia.

“We are already at war.

“Don’t be a fool! The war that is coming will be far worse than those little skirmishes. Every single nation of Helárissos will rise against this bloodthirsty tyrant. Do you really want to take part in it?

“Whether I want it or not, it doesn’t matter. I’ll do what I must do. –The cold voice sounded now thrilled–. It is going to be such a great war to fight on… You said it, Atela, we are warriors. We are meant to battle, to brandish our swords and defeat our enemies. That is our destiny, the fate of the Order of Hacra.

“And yet I’m afraid we are in the wrong side...

After that there was only silence. Sënn waited for a while, hoping to hear something else, but apparently the two women had left, although the light was still lit behind the window. He thought about the words of those mysterious women, but apart from their evident fear of an incoming war due to the Archon’s craziness, Sënn hadn’t understood anything.

“It seems everybody in this city is scared of the Archon...

Suddenly he felt a hand in his neck. Sënn shouted, frightened, and tried to escape, but that hand was strong and hold him firmly.

“Why were you spying us? –A cold voice asked in his ear.

“I… I wasn’t! I’m… m… not…! –He tried to answered, but his tongue was frozen by fear.

“What did you catch, Bresia? –The other voice was surprisingly friendly–. A kid?

“A busybody, I think. Perhaps a spy.

“No! –Sënn cried–. I’m just lost! I was... that burglar stole our silk and then... I’m not a spy!

“Calm down, kid. Just relax and tell us what are you doing here.

Sënn gasped and breathed deeply, looking at the two women. The one with the cold voice was tall and thin, short-haired and quite pale. Her face was strict and a bit intimidating. The other one was shorter and dark-haired, and looked at Sënn with a sincere smile that somehow made him think on his mother.

“C’mon, lad. We won’t hurt you. –The kind one said. Sënn felt a bit relieved, but he also noticed that both women wore chain mails and were armed with sharp falcata swords. Trying not to look at the shining steel, Sënn explained everything he had gone through since he was stolen his family’s precious silk. He even told the women about the fountain, the mysterious sorcerer and the Archon, and how was he chased by the Iron Riders.

The two women looked at each other with an expression of concern.

“I told you. –Atela said–. He is using some kind of witchcraft. We must stop him!

“First of all we should inform our leaders. –Answered Bresia, pursing her lips.

“Anyway, our Order has nothing else to do with that bloody coward!

“E... excuse me. –Sënn asked with a tremulous voice–. What...?

“Don’t worry, kid. –Atela said, smiling–. I believe you. We will help you find your uncle. Will we, Bresia?

“Yeah, why not? –Bresia frowned–. Let’s take care of this child! What else must we do?

“You know, dear, that sometimes you are rather annoying. –Atela laughed quietly–. I hope I’ll never share any command with you.

“So do I. –Bresia shown a fierce smile and pushed Sënn towards the avenue–. Move on, kid!

They came out the alley and slowly walked down the wide avenue. Sënn was still a bit concerned and doubtful, but for the first time in the whole night he was not running or feeling truly scared, and that was something. Atela gently hold his shoulder.

“Don’t worry; I think I know where your inn is. We’ll be there really soon.

“Thank you. Really...

“Not at all! The streets of Queitaris are not a place for a boy like you during the night. The sooner you are back in your land with your family, the better.

Sënn tried to speak again, but the sound of horses made him quiet. Scared, he looked around. The two women put their hands on their swords and waited, ready to act. Soon five horsemen caught them and circled them, aiming at the two warriors with their spears. Sënn fell on his knees and embraced Atela’s leg, terrified, as he had recognised the Iron Riders.

“Guardians, hand that kid over to us! –The captain shouted, waving his spear very close to Atela’s face–. He’s a criminal and deserves punishment.

“Really, is he? –The Guardian stood still, her hand over the sword handle–. I would say he is just a frightened child.

“Hand him over!

Atela and Bresia looked at each other. There was worry in her faces, but also a kind of weird amusement. They both showed a twisted smile, a rather fiery expression which caused a chill on Sënn’s spine.

“What do you think, Bresia? Shall we obey those men?

“I think we should. But I don’t feel happy doing it.

“Neither do I. These men tend to forget who we are.

“Guardians, I’ll ask only one more time! –The captain insisted, aggressively–. Hand him over!

“We shouldn’t do this, Atela. –Bresia looked now truly concerned.

“It is time to choose sides for the war, Bresia.

“We don’t have the right to do that. Not on behalf of the entire Order.

“You’re right. But you know what, dear? I’m doing this only on my behalf!

“You bitch! –Shouted the captain, enraged–. I’ll teach you to obey the Archon’s Iron Riders!

“How rude! Do you think that’s the proper way to address a woman?

Atela smiled and, quick as a lightning, drew her falcata and cut in half the captain’s spear. Before he could react, Atela was on his side and waved his sword again. The rider fell down, screaming, his chest red of blood.

“Hacra!

The two Guardians moved between the horses with incredible dexterity, blocking the riders’ spears and throwing a rain of steel over those men. Sënn saw the combat open-mouthed, astonished by the unbelievable skill of those women. After a few seconds, the five riders were lying in the ground, dead or severely wounded. The horses ran away, scared, and the two women cleaned their swords with an air of routine.

“Done! –Atela said, satisfied–. Now it is war between the Archon and the Order.

“Or perhaps it is our heads on a spike to avoid a punishment for the Order. –Muttered Bresia.

“Either way, I feel really good now. –She ducked and helped an absolutely shocked Sënn to get up–. Don’t be scared, kid! Everything is going to be well. We’ll guide you back to your inn, all right?

“But... but… you…

“Don’t say anything. –Atela smiled and caressed his face–. C’mon, let us go.

They walked slowly along the lonely streets of Queitaris. Nobody tried to stop them; nobody had apparently noticed what had just happened. After about half an hour, Sënn recognised the square where his uncle and he had tried to sell their silk. That had happened just a few hours before, but it seemed like ages for Sënn, just a dream of an almost forgotten life.

Finally they found the inn. Sënn almost cried of relief when he saw his uncle. He tried to explain, but his mouth just tremble as the tears break out his eyes.

“My poor kid! –His uncle cried, hugging him–. I was so scared...

When they calmed down a little, Atela briefly explained what had just happened.

“I think you two should leave the city early in the morning. The Archon’s guards will seek for revenge and they are merciless.

“We’ll do. Now that the silk is lost, nothing keeps us here. But I would like to repay you somehow, brave Guardians.

“Never mind, merchant. We’ll be happy to know that you two are safe, far from the walls of Queitaris.

“Atela, we should go now. –Bresia said, looking around with a concerned face.

“Just a second. –Atela took Sënn’s hand and kissed him in his forehead–. Take care, you brave kid. You’ve lived such a terrifying experience tonight, and yet you have survived and hopefully got a bit wiser. You may not realise now, but you have started great things. Whether they will be for good or bad, I think not even the Gods know...

“I’m sorry I caused you so many problems.

“Don’t feel guilty. This should have happened sooner or later. You were just the first, small drop that announces the storm. For there is a dark storm coming and Helárissos will not be the same anymore.

Sënn remembered the words of that gloomy prophet and felt a touch of freezing fear deep in his heart. What did all that mean? He had no idea, but suddenly the city felt even darker and more ominous around him, and he just wished to be back at home, far from sinister sorcerers, cruel tyrants, deadly warriors and disheartening omens.

Atela realised his agitation and sighed. There was a sad sparkle in her eyes. But she kept smiling anyway, and it was a smile full of confidence.

“Don’t feel discouraged, Sënn. Helárissos is much stronger that the ambition of any man, even one as bloodthirsty as Soloscrán. There will be suffering and pain, of course, but nevertheless he will fall at the end, no matter how cruel and ruthless his reign is. This is the fate of every despot. Just keep some hope within your heart, will you?

“I... I will.

Atela kissed him again and walked away with Bresia, waving her hand as a last gesture of farewell. Sënn and his uncle remained at the door of the inn for a while, silently watching as the city woke up with the first signs of dawn. They were relieved for being together again, but also distressed for all what have happened over the last hours.

When the sun finally rose over Queitaris, the two packed their scarce luggage on their donkey and walked away amid the multitude, leaving back the cheerful crowd, the woody streets and the latent shadows of a war that would shake Helárissos for years to come.

For they, humble merchants of a distant land, did not know that they have lighted the first sparks of the Great War, a terrible conflict between all the nations of Helárissos. Thousands would die; cities would burn to the ground; the Archon would fall amid blood and fire and the whole land would lie wounded and sorrowful for fifteen years, waiting for a Chosen One prophesied by a dying Augur.

But that is a different story...

NEWCOMERS IN THE ELDEST CITY (I)

As a kind of writing experiment, I post here the first part of a short story written in english. It takes place in Queitaris, the mythical city which plays a key role in the adventures of Erban and friends in "El Héroe Durmiente". It is a short introduction to the world depicted in the novel, as well as to some of the secondary characters (not too much, though. Just a pair of brief appearances). As some of my friends can't read the novel in spanish, I though it would be good to show them a bit of Helárissos in a language they can understand, but this doesn't mean you shouldn't try learning spanish!! Ah, just kidding ;)
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and please be indulgent with all the awful grammar mistakes I have surely done (any feedback will be more than welcome). It's been quite a challenge to write in english, but also a very funny task.
Here it goes... and keep in touch for the second part!!


NEWCOMERS IN THE ELDEST CITY (I)

The first time he saw Queitaris, through the mist of a cold dawn, Sënn thought it was far beyond his deepest dreams. No matter how many times he had heard tales of the Eldest City before, the picture the sun was drawing in front of him with a mixture of light and shadow was such an astounding one that he had to close his eyes for a second so as to fix it in his memory.

“Impressive, isn’t it? –His uncle said, smiling at him with a spark of delight in his eyes–. I had exactly the same reaction the first time I came here. This is a place like no other in Helárissos, and yet what you see now is just a hint of what Queitaris has within. Enjoy this chance you have, Sënn... but try to keep your mouth shut and don’t move away from me, understood?

Sënn nodded despite having barely heard any of his uncle’s words. His eyes were still enchanted by the stains of green the sun was painting here and there across the city; that was the sign of the many trees that grew up within the city limits, wood and stone combined by means of a mysterious will of life which, according to ancient legends, came from the holy ground the City was built over.

“...and the ground under Queitaris is sacred indeed. –His grandmother always said–. For the Ancient Gods chose that place and no other to swear their Holy Pact with the first men and women, the sons of the stars...”

Hundreds of times had Sënn heard that legend from her, and yet he always thought it was nothing but a fairy tale for children. But now Sënn couldn’t help feeling that his old grandma was right indeed.

“Come on, son! –His uncle said, pulling the rein of their old donkey. It carried the goods their intended to sell in the City–. Time is gold and our wallet is empty.

The sun had risen over the mist when they finally reached the suburbs. After a while the two found themselves almost swallowed by the noisy crowd that infested the streets even so early in the day. Sënn try to follow his uncle steps but it was quite a challenge not to get distracted by the many wonders Queitaris was unveiling before his amazed eyes.

First of all, there were the people. Sënn has never seen so many different clothes and faces, so many colours and races. Voices shouted and whisper around him in tens of languages and accents that formed a garbled music and made him look around as confused as he was trapped in the middle of a storm. Luckily, his experienced uncle helped him to identify the different tribes and nations that habited Queitaris: Tall and proud aquireans, wearing light tunics and robes; pale alberanirs carrying long spears and leather clothes; dark-haired punneqs dressed with coloured turbans; natives from the western lands, their skins covered by mysterious tattoos... They even passed by a few moijurs like themselves, and Sënn felt funny to find a familiar face in such an astonishing place.

But Sënn’s attention quickly moved from the busy crowd to the City itself, as Queitaris was really worth of more than a hurried sight. Many men had lived there across the millennia, many hands had shaped each building, each wall and tower with a distinctive style, and so Queitaris was the result of a disordered mixture of people and history, not a single city but a set of cities built one upon another. But where there should be chaos and confusion, the trees brought harmony and order, combining all the pieces into a single picture full of sense and life.

Even the smallest corner of Queitaris was painted by the green and wood of trees and plants, which grew up always in the right place to enhance the work of humans. Therefore, Queitaris did not have actual streets but groves, not squares but forests. Olive trees, holly oaks, aspens, pines and many others Sënn had never seen before flourished across Queitaris at their own, unpredictable pace.

“C’mon Sënn, we’re in a hurry! –His uncle said, waving his hand to rush him–. Move on, boy!

Sënn walked quickly behind his uncle, but his eyes were still wandering through the marvels of Queitaris. The two crossed a wide avenue and entered a large, circular market. Almond trees grew up there, and the stands were built amid the rough trunks. Many different goods where shown there, and Sënn felt the smell of freshly baked bread, rosemary and lavender, which made his stomach roar of hunger. However, as his uncle pointed out, that was mainly a fabrics market, and the strong scent of dyes filled the place.

“Here we may get a good price for our moijurean silk. –His uncle said, his voice trembling with hope and uncertainty–. Let’s find a merchant willing to buy... and for Gods’ sake, Sënn, keep your mouth shut!

Sënn nodded. Young as he was, and maybe not as smart as their family wished (“A trader shouldn’t be that naïve!” was his father favourite complaint), he knew the year had been quite bad for the family and they really needed the money that journey could provide. That was the reason of his uncle’s agitation.

They spent the rest of the morning talking with merchants and looking for a profitable deal. Praised for his skills as the best seller of their village, his uncle did his best to obtain a favourable price, but his opponents were accomplished merchants (most of them from Punnaq, the so-called Islands of Traders) and were far beyond his simple tricks. After a short break for lunch (Sënn literally devoured his ration of cheese, cured ham and toasted bread), they keep trying until the light started to fade, but the best price they were offered was just a half of what they expected.

“Do you seriously pretend to sell that stuff for so much money? –The last merchant asked, with a kind smile and a spark of pity in his eyes–. Trust me, chap, you will not get such an offer in the whole city. This is a time of fear, and people aren’t willing to spend their money in luxurious fabrics. Food is becoming much more valuable nowadays, you know, because war is at hand.

“War? Is it that serious? –His uncle sighed, tired and discouraged–. I never thought it would arrive to such an end.

“Well, it has, actually. –The merchant looked around, a bit nervous, and dropped off his voice–. You know, they say the Archon has lost his mind. He thinks himself to be not an arbiter anymore but a true emperor, even a kind of God. He would not let anyone to challenge him. But Áquiros will never accept to be dominated by Queitaris; neither will do the rest of nations of Helárissos, and so...

“War is right here! –A deep voice said.

Sënn gave a start and looked at the man that had suddenly appeared next to him. A short, old man, dressed as a beggar. His face was deformed by many lines of age and his eyes were pale like the ones of a blind, despite what he stared at the merchant with a fierce expression.

“War is right here! –He repeated–. For the Archon is a tyrant, sick of glory and power. His legions will arise soon; the entire city will yield to his evil determination and the once sacred Queitaris will become nothing but a malignant hideout for his armies. The recruitment has begun, and those who defy the tyrant will be killed on behalf of his malevolence.

“Shut up, you fool! –The merchant whispered, terrified–. Do you want us to be arrested? There are sentinels and spies everywhere in these cursed days! Shut up and go away! I don’t want any bloody problem.
The old man showed a sardonic smile.

“Fear is the most dreaded weapon of the tyrant, and I see he uses it very efficiently. All right, merchant, close your eyes and pretend to live like nothing was happening around you. It may work... or not.

He smiled again and turned back, slowly walking away and whispering with a deep, menacing voice, like a disturbing prayer:

“Beware of the Bloodthirsty, for he will drive Helárissos to war. Beware of Soloscrán, the Crazy Archon of Queitaris... Beware...

“Shit! –The merchant shouted, both scared and furious–. The city is getting full of people like that. They are crazy... but I’m afraid they are right too. Will you accept an advice, you two? –He added, looking at Sënn and his uncle–. Sell your fabric as soon as you can and then run away from this damned city. Come back to your homeland and you might avoid the storm...

With nothing else to say, the merchant quickly took down his stand and flew away, leaving the two alone. As the sun was falling down the sky, the market became a quiet place, plunged into a half-light under the branches of the almond trees. The noisy crowd had let pass to just a few people wandering around: a couple of traders closing a last minute deal, beggars looking for a lost coin or a forgotten leaf of bread, guards beating the ground with their spears... Suddenly Sënn shuddered, like touched by a cold wind or a gloomy thought.

“All right, son, –his uncle said–, let’s find a place to pass the night.

They moved slowly out of the market and found themselves again in a labyrinth of now silent and lonely streets. His uncle walked along, head bowed, and Sënn followed him, pulling the rein of the donkey. The sky was dark blue and the stars were waking up above them, and the trembling light of torches started to fill the darkness underneath the trees.

It was now a completely different Queitaris for Sënn, after what he had heard from that mysterious man. The morning city full of marvels and amazing surprises unveiled by the bright sun had become a place of dusk and dark corners. Of course he had heard rumours of war before. But there in his village, far away in the plains of Moi-Xian, that kind of news was nothing but pointless chatter for idle men or tales for elders and children.

Now those rumours were as real as his tiredness after such a long day. There was a deep shadow slowly descending upon the city of Queitaris. Sënn could see it in the shivering voices of the people they were passing by, in their expressions of caution and concern, in the ominous shine of their eyes. It was the same shadow he felt crawling across his own heart.

“Why are they so scared? –He asked–. Is the Archon really doing what that man said? I thought he was a fair and wise man.

“Their predecessors were. Most of them, at least. You know the Archon is supposed to keep the peace between all the nations of Helárissos, right?
Sënn nodded. He had heard that many times.

“For this reason, the Archon only rules in Queitaris, as this is a free city opened to all people no matter where they come from. Out of the Eldest City, the Archon is just an arbiter, a judge for kings and lords with no power other than the one granted by his wisdom and the respect due to his position. And so it has been for centuries, until Soloscrán became Archon.

They passed by a pair of guards. His uncle fell silent for a while, and then he kept talking in whispers.

“Soloscrán has broken many of the old traditions. He raised an army much greater than the one Queitaris needed for his protection, and took part in many of the internal issues of other nations.

“But I always heard he is a hero, a great warrior and leader.

“Of course he is! The problem is that he shouldn’t be. That’s not the role of the Archon. –His uncle sighed, dispirited–. Many people praise him for his heroics deeds, and not only in Queitaris but in other parts of Helárissos. I thought he’d have enough with that and there would be no war. But it seems that he has become obsessed by dreams of glory and power. Only the Gods know where his madness will drive us to...

His uncle looked at him and tried an encouraging smile with little success.

“Don’t worry too much about this, Sënn. War is an issue of great cities and powerful kingdoms. Once we’re back in our small village far from everywhere we’ll be safe.

Sënn nodded and the two fell silent, walking without direction under the many trees of Queitaris. But while they wandered in search of a place to stay at night, Sënn remembered the old man’s words and couldn’t help feeling that his uncle’s hopes were a bit too optimistic.

It took them an hour or so to find a small inn, in a tiny square adorned by a tall and lonely aspen. His uncle let him outside with the donkey and came in to arrange a staying with the innkeeper.

Sënn yawned, feeling really tired and sleepy. It has been a long day after all. The donkey shook his long ears and looked at him. He smiled and caressed the animal, wishing for a comfortable bed and something to calm his complaining stomach. He felt really sleepy and his eyelids were falling...

Suddenly there was a beating, the sound of quick steps over the paving. Sënn opened his eyes and saw a figure carrying a bulk and running away. A quick sight to his donkey made Sënn shout, terrified. The precious silk was gone.

“Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit!

Embarrassed by his mistake, Sënn chased the thief. He was so desperate that he didn’t think on anything else than running with all his forces and recover the fabric his family’s future depended on.

“Come back, you bloody thief! –He shouted, running as fast as he could. But the guy was much faster and clearly knew the place, as he quickly ran into a maze of small alleys and disappeared. After a while, Sënn lost the trail and lost himself.

He stopped under a pine tree, gasping, ashamed and more scared that never before. He looked around, hoping to find a clue of where he was. But the street was narrow, dark and silent; there was no sign of the thief and no way to come back to the inn.

Suddenly all his worries about the Archon and the war vanished and a much worse fear grew up inside him. He was lost in a strange and dangerous city and his foolishness might lead his family to misery. The fear became panic, and Sënn cried:

“What can I do now?

But apart from the quiet creaking of the pine branches, there was no answer to his moan.

To be continued...

Un nuevo año...

Para despedir 2009, un mini relato de Helárissos.

“Cuentan que una vez, antes de la Edad de los Jinetes, cuando Áquiros extendía su Imperio por toda Helárissos, vivió en Queitaris un hombre muy singular. Por muchos nombres le llamaron, pero sólo a uno respondía realmente su corazón, y éste era Crolo, que significa “Hijo del Tiempo” en la antigua lengua. Muy pocos en verdad llegaron a conocerle por tal nombre, pues sólo a sus más allegados lo revelaba.
Y he aquí que Crolo, a pesar de nacer y criarse en una ciudad tan vibrante y maravillosa como Queitaris, vivió muchos años entre sombras, apartado de los demás, ahogado en una soledad que no lograba entender, y que sin embargo le agarrotaba el corazón y asfixiaba su aliento. Y los años pasaban, y con ellos su pesar se acrecentaba, pues sentía que jamás lograría quebrar esa barrera que le apartaba del resto de la gente. Incluso sus más cercanos amigos le parecían a menudo como extraños incapaces de despertar en él ni un atisbo de verdadera calidez.
Y el tiempo seguía fluyendo, impasible a las penas de los hombres, y Crolo languidecía en su soledad, aunque nadie a su alrededor se percataba. Hasta que un día algo cambió en su vida. Una mirada, el brillo de unos ojos oscuros, una sonrisa entre la muchedumbre pudo por fin traspasar el muro de sus pensamientos. Por un instante el tiempo se detuvo, y Crolo no se sintió solo.
Pero fue sólo un momento de fugaz consuelo. Porque el tiempo seguía fluyendo, y la vida lo arrastraba de un lugar a otro, de la alegría al pesar, de la sorpresa a la rutina, de la esperanza al pesimismo, y Crolo no podía sustraerse a ese movimiento irresistible. Sólo de tanto en tanto aquella sonrisa volvía a él y aliviaba por un tiempo su soledad, pero no eran más que suspiros que rápidamente se perdían en la corriente.
Y así Crolo creció, y vivió, y envejeció. Y aquella mirada única, aquellas caricias esporádicas murieron, y para él toda luz se apagó y el mundo se sumió en penumbras. Pero Crolo no lo lamentó, porque por fin había comprendido que aquél era su destino y que su soledad no era diferente de la que a todos nos atrapa de vez en cuando.
Cuentan que, ya en sus últimos días, Crolo acostumbraba a contemplar el atardecer desde los acantilados de Queitaris, y una noche escuchó el rugido de las olas rompiendo contra la costa, y dijo así: “En verdad ahora veo que el Tiempo no deja de fluir. Es un río que se entrelaza con la Memoria y nos arrastra año tras año hacia el Mar. Algunos recuerdos se hunden y se desvanecen con rapidez, otros resisten hasta que la fuerza del agua los desgasta y se desvanecen. Pero unos pocos fluyen con nosotros, nos sirven de asidero, nos dan sentido y esperanza. Seguiré nadando río abajo, aferrado a esos pocos recuerdos, porque ellos encierran el único y verdadero secreto de mi vida”.
Y con ese pensamiento y el recuerdo de una mirada turbadora, Crolo cerró los ojos y se marchó para siempre. Para el resto del mundo había muerto Tergocles Antodeo, el último gran Emperador, el Conquistador invencible, el Constructor del Muro. Su vida y su muerte cambiaron por completo la historia de Helárissos y alimentaron un sinfín de leyendas.
Pero para los pocos que le conocieron de verdad, Tergocles era sólo un disfraz que ocultaba al verdadero hombre, Crolo, que amó a una mujer durante toda su vida, tanto que la dejó marchar y no le arrebató su libertad, tanto que aprendió a soportar su soledad y no buscó otro consuelo, condenando a su linaje y cambiando así el destino de Helárissos.
Porque Crolo no fue más que un hombre como otro cualquiera, uno más de los hijos del Tiempo que son arrastrados por el río de la Vida, y nadan aguas abajo sin jamás mirar atrás, flotando entre sus recuerdos y sus sueños.”

Extraído de “Las baladas de Queitaris”, del sabio Esmodán de Sarcosta.

El tiempo no deja de fluir, así que atesoremos todos los recuerdos que podamos y a seguir viajando sin mirar atrás.
¡¡Feliz 2010!!