The Sovereign Road by Aaron Calhoun

Author:Aaron Calhoun
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Aaron W. Calhoun
Published: 2016-09-17T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21: The Cities of the Plain

The blazing afternoon sun beat down upon the dusty plains with almost physical force. The air was dense and still. With dogged steps, Garin drove himself forward toward a faint dark line that loomed on the far horizon.

The accursed city of the plain, Hyrosol Eld.

He did not know how long he had been traveling. It felt like months since he had dined with Hyperion, but time was fluid in Mythos, and the sun had risen and set only once since he had found the Mariner. His eyes momentarily lost focus as he recalled the journey.

***

The far pass from the Sepulcher of Suns had lead to a broad valley festooned with flowers. The valley sloped gently downward through the mountains, eventually opening though a gap in the foothills onto a broad strand of grey sand at the edge of a dark ocean. The waters were an ominous violet, but by this time the sun had neared the far horizon and its evening rays painted the surface of the water with flashes of joyful orange fire that almost concealed the inscrutable depths beneath.

At the edge of the sea, amidst the swirling breakers, stood a great black silhouette framed by the rays of the dying sun, its front lit only by a bright red spark that danced and leapt against the dark backdrop. From the distance he heard a strange, faint susurrus of animal sounds. As he approached, the shape resolved into a towering ship of cyclopean dimensions, a vast deep brown slab of wood and pitch, and the sounds increased in volume, transforming into a bestial cacophony. The red spark was revealed to be a campfire, beside which stood a tall, bare-shouldered man wearing a deep blue loincloth about his waist that was decorated with stylized images of waves. Garin felt certain that he had found the mariner.

The Mariner proved to be a man of few words, but made it clear to Garin that he was welcome here, and, after he had eaten his fill from the remnant of the mariner’s evening meal, they entered the ship and the door shut behind them of its own accord. They swiftly climbed a rugged wooden staircase through the lower decks, which were filled with vast open pens occupied by every conceivably type of animal. The boat began heaving as they ascended, and Garin wondered what was happening outside.

“It is the first winds of the Judgment Storm,” said the Mariner, as if in answer to Garin’s unspoken question. “Soon it will be upon us. We must be off.”

As they reached the upper deck, the storm’s full fury broke upon the ship. The once-peaceful skies were now filled filled with billowing dark clouds illuminated by a near-continuous volley of lightning bolts, and an icy rain lashed the boards of the deck. Across the horizon, great waterspouts launched skyward from the ocean into the tempest. There was no land to be seen, only the boiling watery wasteland of the Mare Primum.

“I must go to my family now,” the Mariner stated flatly.

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