Worm

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The city of Worm was mostly smoke and red bricks. It was modern, unlike Hemnor. It had been built only two hundred years ago as a port. It served as a trading hub for the empire in the Fulkrin Sea, and a military depot that specialized in naval warfare. The idea was that the city would prevent Sessania’s enemies from invading from the north, but it had fallen into disreputal hands as pirates, traders, and even slavers flooded the city.

Everyone in Ambrachar knew it. The empire abandoned all but the military depot. That was steeped in naval research. There was even said to be a new metal ship. They had locked themselves away in their bastion while Worm festered. He had never seen deserts or oasis either, but he had heard stories. He imagined an oasis in a desert. People clawing at the walls. Horrible, vicious, wild men like were said to dwell in the Botos Mountains.

But this city hardly seemed wild. Sure, it was filthy and the air was choked. The people seemed more despondent than vicious. There was a miasma that hung in the air and chocked out the blue sky. If it was a cloud, it was in the city. All around it. Suffocating it. There were sounds he was familiar with. The clopping of hooves, the barking of dogs, and the steady clang of a blacksmith’s hammer. There was just a lot more of it. There were a lot more people too. There conversations melded into a droning ambience that permeated every road they travelled.

Peter glared at the citizens as the cart trundled through the brick streets. The people had forlorn expressions. Most of them averted their eyes, hustled their kids away, and thanked their fortunes they were not in the wagon. They gave the Rota Sukans a wide birth as they passed, but did not refrain from showing their dislike. Still, nobody raised a hand to stop them. A few stared, hard eyed, as they passed. There were those sizing up the caravans contents and those who were just angry. They might have done something about it, but circumstance was against them. They might have wanted better lives, but someone else wanted to keep them down.

There was a acrid, metallic smell to the air along with feces and sewage. The scent was repugnant and was far removed from the outdoor smells he was used too. He was used to smelling dung, but it seemed like the confined nature of the city made the scent fouler. There was a film on the red brick. Black tendrils of what appeared to be smoke stained the red brick. The alleys were filled with piles of refuse and there were more than a few faces that stared out at him.

Peter wondered what Rota Sukan cities would be like. This place was filthy and horrible. Were Rota Sukan’s worse? He did have a frame of reference. Anything was worse than his pastoral home with its rolling hills and pristine waters. He suddenly felt sad. He would miss sneaking to the lake with his friends for an evening swim. He missed good food, laughing, and a drink at the Green. He missed his family.

His captors spoke in their foreign tongue. One of them pointed and had what looked to be a relieved expression on this face. Peter looked in the direction.

There was a sharp incline. The road descended and winded down several more blocks, but at the end was a port. Peter gaped. He had never seen boats so big. He had never left Eldorn. And the docks stretched on up at down the coast. There were people down there, but they were still too far away. Peter caught a whiff of the sea too. It was subtle, and it mingled with the fetid scents of the city, but it was new to him. He had never smelled the ocean before, and had never seen an endless body of water, but there it was stretching to the horizon.

His new home was somewhere out there. They could have taken the land, but that would have taken them through increasingly secure Sessainian territory. By sea, they would be faster, safer, and have a more direct route. The future was fixed now. There was no going back to his old life. He glanced in the direction he thought Eldorn might lie in. He gripped the bars and closed his eyes.

There was a part of him that hoped he would be rescued. That someone would swarm out from these buildings and assault the wagons. but a growing piece of him became resigned to the truth. He was dead to his old life. His father and siblings would forget him. They would relinquish him to the land. His father would still wonder about him no doubt. The rescuers would relay that those still imprisoned were not dead, but he would ease the pain for his siblings. It would be better for them to imagine he had been returned to the land instead of being a used piece of meat by some Rota Sukan royal.

He sighed and turned back to the sea.

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