The Towers of Adrala

Chapter 1 - The Stirrings (Part One)

The Stirrings

After his final words, spoken with sorrow and fury, his nightmare of humanity's extinction was almost realized. When the world was split and set ablaze, no city remained standing. Night turned to day and day to night in the barest of moments. The sky flickered from sun, to moons, to stars, and the infinity of the indescribable. The death of a world was survived by few and remembered by fewer.

Broken and thrown into a burning world, humanity still miraculously survived. Their weapons of war forgotten, their history wiped clean, they returned to an existence that eventually became civilization. They named the lone continent that had survived the onslaught 'Adrala', never questioning why there wasn't already a name.

To not ask a question, however, does not mean it will not be answered.

-Excerpt from the Book of Idusces

Pird bolted out of the alley in a flying leap, his heart beating furiously and enjoyably in his ears. He landed on the street and twisted deftly on his toes.

“Thief!” came the desperate shout of the guards that were still a safe distance behind. Pird bent his knees and sprang off in a dash. The cobblestone street, thanks to the celebration, was bare of the usual crowds. Pird glanced up and gauged the angle of the tower Saranoda’s arms that stretched over the city Eretia.

That’s the northern arm, Pird calculated, So home’s across this canal and down a few blocks.

Deeming the bridge not exciting enough, Pird instead chose to jump across. He landed in a crouch on one of the large barrels floating downstream, pausing only long enough for the disturbed cargo to right itself before he leaped again to the canal's other side. He quickly crossed the street and used a windowsill to boost up onto a low wall. He turned, sat, and waited.

They're slow today, Pird idly thought to himself, taking a moment to look up and down the wide street. Buildings and homes vied for space on the road, the sidewalks narrow and the architecture well crafted. Eretia’s style borrowed from everywhere; the narrow alleys of Benji, the open canals of the Delta, Bakaar’s pattern of coalescing streets, and Mirith’s attention to every carving upon every pillar. A distance behind the immediate buildings Pird could make out the tops of the grand, many-storied apartments of the white city. A canal split the street down the center, but the waterway was missing the normal stream of storage barrels and courier boats. It was a rare day Pird got to roam the city unhindered by people, so he was taking advantage of every street the celebration had emptied.

Suddenly Pird was oddly aware of the tower Saranoda's rumble. It disoriented him a little, as the deep resounding sound of the tower's massive waterfalls was a constant ambience that anyone who spent time in its shadow grew accustomed to. Hearing what was called Eretia’s ‘silence’ made Pird feel his senses heighten. He could feel the cool stone beneath his fingers, the crisp air against his skin. He could even feel how the great waterfalls made everything hum.

Must be the quiet, Pird assured himself when a shout caught his attention. A troop of guards poured out of the alley and dispersed along the street. Their armor was limited to some leather here and there and a plate on the soldier, as Eretians had better and more entertaining things to do than assault anyone.

“About time,” Pird muttered, standing up. He waited, but the men were obviously clueless so he gave a sharp whistle. Their heads snapped up in his direction and one shouted. Pird hopped down into the lawn the white stone wall protected. The stout mustached owner of the lawn looked up from his weeding only long enough to give Pird a wave. Pird, being mindful of the man's garden, scaled the opposite wall and jumped down into yet another street. He dodged through the stone parade of animal fountains in one of the empty squares and into another alley. Pird turned a corner so fast that he ran directly into the chest of a young man. Strong hands clapped down on his shoulders and turned him around, holding him firmly there. Pird made no attempt to break free, but struggled just hard enough to look like he was.