Bridging the Ancient ✓

Chapter 44

After days of hard travel, I finally allow myself to come to a stop. And there's a reason why. In front of us is the entrance to Lona. Where there once were iron gates to keep out those not welcome to the city, they have been torn off their hinges and likely sold for parts. Now anyone can walk into this city, but they might not be welcome.

"Keep watch," Renit instructs.

I nod, following at his side as we make our way into the city. Down the way, birds peck at heads that have been spiked along the outer fence, near someone's residence. Their sickening caws echo through the air, rendering this city dangerous before I've taken three breaths inside the walls.

Casually, I keep my hand on the pommel of my sword. We fold into the crowd of residents living daily lives in such a cruel place. Not one of them appears to care about the crows or the sickening screams of a man being beat one street over. Even Renit has to stop himself from intruding on what is taking place, he could find himself in the same position if he steps one foot out of line.

From what I can see of the residents on the street, there's a reason why this place is nestled so deep in the mountain and why no one wants to come here. Many of them are missing limbs, eyes, ears, or parts of their skin have been burnt beyond recognition and sealed with the shavings of titanium. At one point or the other, these people have been tortured and left to die. That's why they're here—death doesn't matter.

This is the only time I don't mind keeping myself so close to Renit's side that I lock my arm with his. He doesn't seem to be paying attention, he's too busy watching the rooftops of the stone buildings. Every few thatched roofs have someone crouching on the top, watching the activity below. Assassins or thieves, I wouldn't dare ask.

Believe everyone is out to get you. They pull innocents off the streets to fight for much less than a glare.

Clouds blot out the sunlight, heavy and grey with an oncoming storm. We managed to avoid that storm for as long as necessary but it followed us here, either by Renit's will or nature itself.

We turn down one of the streets, emptier than the other, and I nearly stop dead in my tracks at the sight of what awaits us. In the center of what appears to be the Lona square, two bodies hang from a gibbet. The tattered bits of their clothes sway in the breeze. But that's not it. Blood leaks onto the stone from two citizens that tried to prevent the deaths. They lie face down in puddles of water that have turned a sickly shade of red.

My grip tightens on Renit's arm as we pass it and move onto the next. The streets here are wide, which means there's enough room for everyone to see the horrors that go on. But the buildings are in better conditions than Ducoria. Although the stone is blood-splattered and greyer than the clouds hovering over us, they're not completely ruined. For whatever reason, the citizens of Lona have kept their homes and businesses intact.

"It's not the destruction of the land that grants revenge," Renit whispers. "It's the killing of those that put them here in the first place."

There is no better way to explain it than the way Renit did. I swallow down the nervous lump in my throat as we pass a tavern placed in the shadow of two stone buildings and hiding behind two large trees. At least it was a tavern, the door is barred and the windows have long been taken out. Not broken like in Ducoria but repurposed for something else.

"They're...wiser here," I realize.

"That's why we need to watch our back."

Any person that looks at us is immediately sizing up our strengths and weapons for later use. We need to find an inn and hide out where we won't be recognized by the deadlier residents of this place. There are still innocents here, those that don't want to fight, but their jobs are to go against us, not their people. They're the bartenders, the harlots, the blacksmiths, the farriers—anyone that provides a service.