The Dunehei Chronicles | Book One: A Roseless Thorn

Prologue

A tall, lithe man sat upon the seat of his covered wagon, the cobblestone streets that he rode on rough and uncomfortable. Potholes and loose stones make his journey a bumpy one, but the joyful and infectious smile on his lips never wavered.

On either side of him were modest buildings made of smooth stone and wooden supports, pipes running up and down the outside as chimneys atop the red tiled rooves billowed smoke and steam. Some were homes or inns, others shops, and taverns. Balconies jutted out of the sides of buildings high above his head, covered walkways and bridges connecting the taller more intricate structures.

The city was starting to wake up, the morning sun cresting the horizon and glinting off the white walls and red rooves. All sorts of people were getting ready for the day, shop owners unlocking doors and sweeping up, food vendors firing up their stoves and preparing for the morning rush. Drunks stumbled out of taverns after a long night of drinking, and travelers sat down at cafes or inns to eat a hearty breakfast before continuing their journey.

The street lamps that lined the cobblestone road went out one by one, the light they produced no longer needed. High in the sky above him, soaring like birds on the wind, airships flew by on pre-determined paths. The large ships with their dozens of propellers and massive flowing sails no doubt carried cargo, the smaller ones most likely public and private transportation.

The man drove his horse and buggy through the streets, passing a work crew who were re-stoning the road, two mechanical horses pulling wagons that contained the large slabs of rock. A feet that not even the two living creatures that pulled his own wagon could accomplish.

The road widened as the confining walls of buildings fell away to an open-aired market. Far off in the distance he could see the tall spiraling towers of the palace, large supports and bridges connecting the main tower to the smaller ones around it. Large airships docked on every level while smaller more agile ships buzzed around it like flies. No doubt they were delivering supplies or transporting government officials to and fro.

Nearer the square, yet still far off, the man spied a clock tower, massive gears the sizes of buildings jutting out here and there. The gears creaked and groaned, turning and moving the metal hands of the clock. A chorus of dings echoed out across the city, informing the residents of the time.

Hundreds of people filled the square, a unique assortment of races bustling about as they did their morning shopping. Merchants under colorful awnings called out their wares, trying to draw in customers to purchase their goods. Shoppers bustled about, coming and going from shops and stalls, browsing wares, and striking deals. Music from street performers filled the air, and the smell of hundreds of unique dishes laced the market with their attractive aromas.

In the center of the market was a large, intricate fountain made of glistening white marble. The centerpiece was that of a tall Elven lady dressed in armor, one hand holding a sword while the other was wrapped around the shoulder of her love, a human, whom she hugged close to her.

The details in which the fountain and its statues had been carved were exquisite. The fluid wrinkles of clothing, the detailed etchings of the armor, all done with a patient and skilled hand. The facial features, lovingly carved with such precision and grace that one might think the statues were alive.

Many believed the fountain had been crafted by the hands of a god. Others believe it to be the work of dwarves, their uncanny ability with stone and their unique attachment to the earth allowing them to create such a masterpiece.

A smile spread across the man's youthful face as he gazed up at the two figures. He wondered how the king and queen were doing, perhaps afterwards he would drop by and say hello, see if they had any of those delicious tarts that he oh so loved.