VHALLA STOOD BEFOREthe massive entrance to the fortress. A dry moat had been dug out at the base of the stone walls, wide and deep. It was ready to swallow any who dared attack, ready for archers to rain arrows down from the walls upon the unfortunate souls.
The drawbridge was closed, a massive stone archway that was slotted nearly perfectly into the wall. The wall resisted her presence, and Vhalla had to force her way through. It was definitely something that had been crafted in part with magic.
I’m in, she reported back to Aldrik when she was stable again. “Excellent,” his voice echoed through her physical ears and back to her as clearly as if he stood alongside her. “Tell me what you see.”
It’s a dark and narrow hall. Some kind of pot hangs above, and it appears they also have rubble piled in chutes behind wedges that are attached to rope.Vhalla listened to the sound of his scratching quill, speaking only the necessities so he could keep up.
“They plan to close the gate as defense against a first wave,” Aldrik observed. “You have already earned your merit and you are only a step in.”
Forward, she spoke her progress,it opens up. There’s space before the second wall.
“Second wall?” Papers shuffling.
Yes, my parrot.
Aldrik’s deep chuckle resonated through her. “We’ve heard no mention of a second wall. Describe it.”
After the first wall there’s a stretch, maybe the width of four men, stretched head to toe, and then a second wall. There are catwalks connecting to the outer wall. But I only see one ground entrance. Vhalla proceeded around the perimeter of the circular city.
The walk was unnatural, and not just because she experienced it through Projection. The space between the walls hummed with magic, one radiating off the next. Vhalla stilled. There was an old power here. It seeped from the depths of the earth and fertilized the soil and the people who lived upon it.
Two Northerners passed on a catwalk above, engaged in a heated conversation in a thick language foreign to Vhalla. It wasn’t the strange and melodic dialogue that had entrapped her. It was the bow in the hand of one.
They repeated one word over and over with particular venom,Gwaeru.
Do you speak the tongue of old Shaldan?Vhalla asked as the two archers passed across the catwalk and into the interior wall.
“I barely speak Western,” Aldrik sighed.
I thinkGwaerumeans Windwalker.
“Now how could you possibly come across that tidbit?”
I believe I just saw the woman who tried to shoot me down, Vhalla thought darkly.
“Remember her face so that I may have the pleasure of killing her myself.” Protectiveness gave an edge to Aldrik’s voice that would sound bitter to anyone else. But, to her ears, it resonated warmly.
I’m going to go through the second wall. It seems older, made of a different sort of stone than the outer one. It feels like solid magic.Vhalla stood at the oppressive wall. The shifting currents of magic Vhalla saw all seemed to be stilled by the stone.
“We will need our best Groundbreakers then.” She could hear the scratching of Aldrik’s quill again.
Vhalla paused their conversation to pass through the wall. It completely muddled her magical senses and, for a panicked moment, Vhalla thought she’d somehow fallen into her Channel again. She pushed forward, desperate for air. The ground would smother her magical form alive if she let it.
On the other side, Vhalla thought she could breathe again—metaphorically speaking at least—until she saw the scene before her.By the Mother ...
“What is it, Vhalla?” Aldrik asked worriedly.
Aldrik... Vhalla tried to process what she saw.
The palace was a magnificent display of architecture, like the grandest tree house a child could ever dream. Stone and wooden buildings were connected by arched walkways suspended at every level. It was as if someone had hollowed out the palace in the south and exposed its innards on the outside, a spider’s web of narrow footways and tunnels. The trees were so old and tall that some had been fossilized, or magically turned to stone, others had been carved into and hollowed out to make living spaces.
The castle grew denser as it moved upward and inward. The highest center point had a long, single catwalk extending from it, an access point that had only walkways leading into it. Connected to the access point were other rooms and buildings. Vhalla had no doubt that the Chieftains made their bed in the highest point.
But it was not the architecture that gave her pause. Nor was it the seemingly impossible construction. What made Vhalla stop in her tracks were the people.
“Vhalla, what is it?” Aldrik repeated into the silence.
Vhalla continued to ignore him as the scene settled on her. Northern men and women of every shape and size had built hovels within the inner wall, a tent city that mirrored the surrounding Imperial army’s. The palace seemed to be housing more than just the people who had lived and worked there previously. A great number of refugees had set up camp, fleeing from the encroaching Southern army. There were too many people, even for such a massive space, so everyone seemed to be on top of someone else.
