Phoenix's Flame: Sigma Worlds Book 3 by D. Levesque

Author:D. Levesque [Levesque, D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Once we are outside the King’s home, Michala takes up up a path that leads into the City. Looking around, I look at all the houses. Each one is different, but they all have that living feeling. Most of the Elves I see are adults. I don’t see any children. The King had mentioned that the last children born were Lithania and her brother, so it should not surprise me in not seeing children, but it’s jarring to see a village with no kids.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, and myself getting lost, Michala finally stops before a rock wall, that seems to have been itself grown out of the ground. Looking at it, I can see that it’s almost like a bunker entrance from some of the old war movies I used to watch. Stepping up to the door, he places his hand on it and starts to say words again in Elvish. But yet still, as it was with the portal, or gateway, to get to here, it’s all gibberish to me.

Then I hear the door lock click multiple times, and the door swings open with an exhale of pressure change. Damn, it’s like a pressure bulkhead. Looking at the doorframe once the door is wide open, I can see that the door itself has large bolts that are retracted in, and that the hole fittings for them are huge. No one is getting into that door anytime soon, I think with surprise. What the fuck is going on here?

“Come, watch your step,” the Historian says with excitement.

Following him, I look at the landing we are on, and it’s made of rough stone, compared to the door which on the outside looked like wood, but looking as the door as we all step in and he closes it, I see it’s metal. Putting his hand on the door once again, he intones in the same Elvish gibberish. Either my spell is broken for understanding any language, or it is just garbage he is saying. Then, I feel a pressure change in my ears. All right, that is a pressure bulkhead, as I suspected. How the hell do they have that here using magic?

Then Michala heads to the end of the landing and goes down the steps, and glow lights begin to come on as we come down the steps. I can see looking down that the steps are made of rough stone as well. Almost cut. After going down for about five hundred feet, I feel a difference in the steps. Looking down, I stop dead in my tracks. “This is poured cement!” I say out loud in shock. Bending down, I put my hand on it. No, it feels different. It looks like poured concrete, but it seems softer but seems more durable.

Looking up at the Historian, he is looking at me with excitement. “Go on,” he says.

“It’s like a poured rock, but at home, we have this, but it would last maybe two centuries. But this has been here longer, I am assuming?” I ask him.

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