Predictably, Merc shows no reaction to the chill. Then again, given how the broadsword is up by the mane of his horse, it’s clear he’s most worried about us getting ambushed.
We continue along the very edge of the flats, moving parallel to the ancient city in the crease where the land accommodates both the slope and the flat land that serves as a base for the marble constructions. Once again, I have the eerie sense that we’re being watched, and my eyes dart around. The spreading eclipse in the lee of the elevations is unsettling, almost as if a pall has come across the land as opposed to it just being a lack of sunshine.
And things are only getting darker.
With every footstep the horses take, more and more of the sun is cut off, the hard line now slicing across the whole of the city, even the goddess statue in the middle. I watch as the shadow extends out toward the sea, as if a force is claiming the land. Glancing behind me, I tell myself it’s just an effect caused bythe alignment of cliffs and summits, that as the sun continues on its journey to the western horizon, things will realign and light will shine for a little longer—
Movement. By the wall…?
Or is it just the uneven surfaces of the fallen blocks of rock and toppled obelisks.
“We have to cut across now,” Merc announces. “I don’t want to get too close to the marshland as fates know what’s in it.”
Oh, so it isn’t a meadow for grazing. At least not all of it.
I nod and follow along, even though Lavante is still not happy with being second in line. The trajectory Merc sets takes us across the front of the ancient city, while the darkness strides out ahead, extinguishing the light toward the ocean length by length. It appears as though we’re chasing the night, but what I feel is that it’s trapping us—
Lavante stops.
“Go on then,” I say softly, giving him a little encouragement with my heel.
When he just jogs in place, I look down—
For some reason, my hands have gripped the reins and pulled back.
I command my fingers to loosen, and they do not.
And then as Merc continues ahead, my head turns on its own. I’m precisely aligned with the entry of the ruins, the two towering statues on either side degraded to the point where there’s no identifying what they once were, the main thoroughfare that leads down to the enormous central temple congested with crumbled—
Between one blink and the next, the gloaming and the decay are gone.
What replaces them are a vision of prosperity and grace.
All becomes bright and sunny, and suddenly, I see a painted wooden gate big as the mountains. The two panels are well fortified with copper bands and rivets that wink pink, and against a creamy background, there are rows of pictographs showing people wearing draped clothing offering alms to the poor, and tilling crops, and making mead, and reading books. And on either side of the entry, the statues repopulate and I see them as they once were. On the left is a beautiful woman, with long dark hair spilling down her draped gown, her face toward the ocean as if she’s greeting the rising sun.
On the right… a man in a high-collared sheath. And he’s looking at her with a dark expression—
Hide.
As the old familiar command blares in my head, the imaginary gate opens. The effect is so real, I hear the creak of the great hinges, feel the whoosh of air, smell scents of flowers and incense. On the other side? No ruins or crumbled statues, no partial buildings where only the strongest supports are still upright.Everything is pristine, the marble columns like beautiful trees with their ornate headers and bark of pictographs, the lane clear of debris, the structures solid and welcoming.
The goddess statue around which all is oriented gleams with beauty. She is standing with one foot slightly in front and the opposite hand stretched high over her head. Her hand is open, her palm flat, as if she’s receiving something from the heavens, her resplendent face staring out over her city to the sea.
But no one is inside the walls.
The streets are empty of pedestrians, and somehow, I know that all the buildings, homes, and temples are vacant as well.
This is… a mirage, and not just because my mind has imagined something. In fact, the vision has replaced reality—
“Sorrel, comeon.”
Everything instantly disappears, and I jerk to attention. And I mean to go catch up to Merc, who’s a length ahead on his slow-poke horse.
That’s not what happens as I release the pressure on the reins and urge Lavante forward. Instead, my hands steer him in between the crumbling statues of the man and the woman. As we hit the chipped pavers of the lane, his hooves sound out and echo into the fallen blocks and degraded columns. The going is slow because he has to step over white marble tile piles that have fallen off roofs and exterior walls, and all the statues that have been knocked over and shattered into chunks and pieces. And then there’s the “cloth” I saw from farther away. The draping turns out to be some kind of frothy spun fiber, and there are pods of it, here and there—
Merc pulls up beside me, and I know he’s speaking, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. My mind is ricocheting between the present I am not feeling clear on and a past that I shouldn’t know anything about.
I’ve never been here before.
