The Flames of Thotus: Dreams

Chapter 6. In the Words of Councilor Nex

The doors to the wagon were thrusted open, the armored bodies of infantrymen flooded out like running water, screeching and thundering roars of fury. Termus couldn't even collect his thoughts to process what was happening. He had been pounding on the back of the wagon for what felt like hours, and now he was lying face-down on the ground, nearly getting trampled by all the soldiers. He scurried to his feet, his sword and sheath dangling from his waist. Luckily, he remembered to carry it with him this time.

He didn't care where he was or what was around him. Gnove and Polly must have poured out of that wagon by now, but he couldn't find them in the chaotic sea of shining silver armor. Armor...he thought. Wait! We're all not wearing any. We are in enemy territory and none of us are wearing any protection.

He needed to find Gnove, and fast. He ripped his sword from its sheath and began scanning desperately for Polly's hat, hoping it would stand out as much as it had before. It wasn't until a gleam of light reflected in the distance that he let his eyes wander a bit. They were in the middle of a large circular street, with alleys and roads branching every-which direction. All of them made of large chunks of cobblestone. The houses that surrounded them were ornate in decoration, dark and polished, boasting intricate design and carpentry. Termus had never seen blackwood before, aside from the trees that composed the Grey Forest. It was used so expertly here that even the mansions in Handiil paled in comparison. Red-roofed and elegant, the swirling patterns on the wood looked like something out of a book. But here it was, right in front of him.

It wasn't long before he noticed there was no ash covering anything. Just outside, the ash permeated everything. But here, not even a speck or smear to be seen. And that caused him to look up. The imposing walls encircled them, reaching higher than he had ever seen, higher than the clouds themselves. Wait, he thought. The whole city is completely surrounded by one circular wall?

Are these walls able to block out the ash? He asked himself. No... That's not possible. They would have to be as high as the atmosphere itself to do that. I can't even fathom the idea. What was the Legion thinking, waging war on a place like this?

He continued scanning the area. A hill rose up from the ground behind all the houses. Imposing was really the only way Termus knew how to describe it. The one road leading up it was a pure pitch black, winding its way to two large blackwood doors.

"Woah," Termus said aloud, his brother's search dancing out of his thoughts.

And there it was, the palace. Seemingly made of the same black stone, this monstrosity sat perched far above everything but the walls themselves. It was too far away for Termus to make out the intricate details, but from where he was, it was easy to see several of its towers, each carving into the air like black spikes.

He felt uneasy just setting his eyes upon the place. The fear of it growing larger and swallowing him whole was more than enough to force him to avert his eyes back to the infantry. A fountain sat at the center of the common's, the infantrymen swarming around it with their swords and hammers, all pointing them toward the multiple roads that sprawled out away from them. The fountain was made of the same black material. With its intricate and layered detail, it fit right in to the dwellings it was surrounded by. The statue atop the fountain was of a man, its hair pulled high into a high knot, a long, flowing beard tied the same. Its face was sharp and angular, yet its eyes contrasted, soft and compassionate. His tender eyes did not take away from the prestige this statue exuded. It added to it, he noticed. He stood tall and firm, draped in heavily layered clothing, sewn to perfection with strange symbols or letters written in. It gleamed and glistened like silk due to the perfect layer of polish. Its broad shoulders stood, an arm outstretched, hand open, facing toward the sky. The black, unmoving stone made it difficult to tell, but it almost looked as if he were holding a tiny flame in the palm of his hand.