Rise (War Witch Book 1) (42 page)

Larisa Fel had been the salvation of the city, a heavily decorated war hero and Paladin of the Eternal Staff, she'd ridden into the city, looking to rebuild it to its former glory. Slowly, she had repaired the reputation of the once mighty kingdom, brought people back to its wide avenues, rebuilt its most legendary buildings, and reclaimed it from the precipice of oblivion.

Old and weary by then, she'd handed the newly reborn nation over to her son, who continued her good works. Through five generations, the Fel family made Lansing the jewel of the northeast again, a center of trade with the second largest seaport in the world, and a country that believed in freedom for all, a fact that irked the former rulers, the Masters of Sorcery, who more than dallied in the trade of Werebeast slaves.

At the height of its glory, the eldest son of Mace Fel, Untar, had been Blessed by Grannax upon his twentieth birthday before all the people of Lansing, as he stood giving a speech, promising to continue what his forbearers had started when Larisa Fel rode into the devastated city.

Within a year, Mace abdicated the throne, handing it over to his son, claiming that Grannax himself had seen fit to bless their nation. With humility, Untar had taken the role of king, and forged a treaty with six other countries on the northeastern continent, driving the Demon Seed far into the northwestern stronghold of Pirnot, where the zombie sorcerer King Hellius ruled. With a united front, corruption was pushed back, making the roads safe to travel, and the people breathed easier even as they rejoiced.

The mighty city of Lansing, with a Blessed of the Divine Tiger for a King, foretold a bright future for all north of the Yestin Sea.

As the days passed, and the small band continued their journey, Ramora began to find Leto's company more enjoyable than she'd expected. Her initial estimation of him proved false, as he was never anything less than a gentleman, though he remained casually flirtatious. More than that, she started seeing him as a friend, his naturally easy-going attitude often bringing a smile to her face.

Three days after meeting, they'd stopped for the evening in a small village, and over a late night of drinks, she'd listened as he told of the hardship his family had endured when he was a child. Refugees from a Demon Seed attack, they'd been forced to march day and night for almost one hundred miles to escape the forces of Pirnot to Tysol's north.

Two of his sisters had been badly injured during the attack, and subsequent trek, one of them losing an arm, the other a leg. Once they'd reached Tysol, they were just a small family among hundreds of refugees, the city overflowing with people seeking shelter as the Demon Kingdom had sought to expand its reach.

Times had been hard. His father, a cobbler, couldn't find work, and had eventually fallen to gambling and drink before being murdered in a back alley by a vindictive prostitute. His mother, devastated, had grieved, and then focused on feeding her six hungry children.

He'd watched her work herself to the bone, and began learning to hustle dice in order to put extra food on the table, before falling in with a street gang and nearly losing his life. He hadn't been able to avoid jail, though, and could never forget the look on his mother's face when she came to get him from the Constable.

Determined to make her proud, he'd turned his devious mind to helping others, and by the time he was an adult, worked for the Constabulary himself. His beloved mother, old before her time, had beamed with pride as her son walked his rounds, dedicated to helping those who dwelled in the slums, and protecting them from the ruthless street gangs he'd briefly been a member of.

It was all he ever could've asked for. Until the day Grannax saw fit to mark him as an agent of the Divine. His mother had seen that, too, before she died, her last words that she was so very proud of him.

Leto had never forgotten that his parents had died younger than they should have because of the Demon Seed. Leaving the Constable’s Office, he'd joined the King's Army, serving Lord Entrigus, ruler of Tysol, as an officer in their never-ending border war with the forces from Pirnot.

His clever, nimble mind had soon earned him the honorary title of General, with a full battalion at his disposal, allowing him to carry out guerrilla warfare on the Demon Seed. Harrying them at every turn, Leto had become a hero of the nation, a symbol of hope to the people, and a constant source of joy to his sisters, who never failed to remind him how proud their mother had been of him.

When Untar's request had crossed Entrigus' desk, he had asked Leto to consider it. As grateful as the Lord was, he felt it was time the young Blessed step out onto the world stage, and fight the larger battles, taking the war to the Demon Seed with his special brand of tactics.

Honored, he'd boarded a ship bound for Wylcer, where he'd acquired a horse to ride the rest of the way to Lansing, determined to bring pride to his homeland as he fought against the minions of evil, no matter where they hid. Somehow, he felt his mother could see him from where she rested in Paradise, and was prouder still of the man he had become.

Saddened by his tale, Ramora couldn't help but smile at the same time. How could the children of that Black Bitch, Ker Zet, ever hope to defeat the High Gods when they had men such as this on their side?

They'd sat up till the wee hours, drinking, as he told her stories of his battles, and how Hellius himself cursed the name Leto Alimon. In his easy smile and merry eyes, she found hope that her vendetta against Draco may yet find a successful end.

The next morning, she'd been too hungover to think much of anything.

Two days later, they cleared the forest, and saw the city of Lansing, making Chara gasp in awe. By her side, Esteban grew wide-eyed, taking in the sight of the third largest city in the entire Middle World, home to more than two million people.

From the massive castle that dominated the central part of the city atop a natural hill, to the towering structures that spread out from it, it was a truly breathtaking sight to behold. The shining waters of the Yestin Sea spreading out from the south end of the city were marred only by the gargantuan seaport, a skeletal hand that clawed at the ocean, hundreds of ships berthed, arriving or departing as they watched.

"Now this is what I'm talking about," Chara exclaimed as they made their way towards the city, her face sporting a wide grin.

Ramora couldn't help but smile at her young companion. She'd walked the streets of Shinamorin, the platinum city that was home of the Ascended, and as such, was accustomed to wonders beyond what even Lansing had to offer. For Chara, however, who'd spent her life with her own home being the largest building in town, it was as awe-inspiring as Imicot's keep had been, but on a much grander scale.

The castle itself was larger than any building the young woman had ever seen, spreading out over ten full acres, the towering walls the symbol of hope that had once sustained the city through the most devastating war the world had ever known. Ramparts wide enough for three men to walk abreast were broken only by towering parapets that housed massive arbalests capable of firing a shot as far away as the docks.

Spreading out from there, built along wide avenues designed to accommodate heavy traffic, were buildings that sought to rival the castle itself. The Merchant Union Trade House, a thirty-story building, nestled against the House of Fel, a towering and legendary inn. Kormack's Tower, built after the Mage Wars, was home to an academy of sorcery and wizardry studies, taking up a full city block and reaching fifteen stories over the city.

Nothing topped the temples that had been erected to the Sky Gods, however. The stone sculptures of tigers that adorned the tops of both the shrines to Grannax and Isel were clearly visible from miles away, the ever-burning fires set into their eyes shining brightly. The House of the Dragon, a temple dedicated to the Sky Dragon, Rajan, rivaled them in beauty, as they and others strained higher into the air than anything else in the city. Smaller cathedrals of the Earth Gods stood in their shadow, and by the ocean, were more dedicated to the Sea Gods. All of them were works of art, marvels of engineering and construction that sought to take the viewer’s breath away at the magnificence.

More structures Chara couldn't even guess at the purpose of dominated her view as well, making her feel like a simple country girl all over again as she marveled at them all, trying to guess their function just from their form.

At the feet of these titans were shops and homes, a rolling sea of civilization that slowly petered out into abundant farmland, great silos dotting the landscape leading up to the city itself. While Lansing had come into view in mid-morning, it was late afternoon by the time they officially entered the city, and Chara's neck was starting to hurt from staring up so much.

Cobblestone echoed under their horses’ hooves as they made their way down Merchant's Row, an avenue thirty yards wide, lined with tents and stalls from which almost anything one could imagine could be found for an affordable price. Try as she might, Chara couldn't stop staring in amazement at the sheer number of people going about their daily lives, wagons rattling their way alongside carriages, and the nearly overwhelming number of sights she'd never thought to experience.

Weaving through the ever-growing traffic, they passed an eight foot Troll with pale blue skin haggling with a burly Dwarf over the price of his wares at one tent. On the other side of the street, an orange-skinned Ogre was arm wrestling with her green-skinned cousin from the southern continent as people cheered and placed bets. Nearby, a fair-skinned Surface Elf meandered alongside a dark-skinned Deep Elf, the two holding hands and chatting amicably as they passed a Halfling barker calling out to passersby about his unbeatable prices.

Then there were the Werefolk. Wolves, Foxes, Cougars, Alligators, and more animals than she'd ever imagined, walking upright as they made their way to their destinations, bartered goods, negotiated trades, or just strolled down the street. It was everything she'd ever dreamed and then some, going beyond any expectation she'd ever had.

At her side, Esteban watched as a few Werefolk nodded to him. He tried to greet them in return, overwhelmed by the new sights, smells, and sounds that closed in on him. His father had always told him the world was a wider place than he dreamed, but never had he thought it to be like this. He felt heady with the sight of a group of Jaguars talking casually under a lamppost, their relaxed posture easing many of his fears.

For Ramora, it just seemed loud and chaotic. Plus, something kept making her want to sneeze.

"We should find someplace to stable the horses, and get some rooms at an inn tonight," Leto commented. "We can try seeing Untar in the morning."

Ramora nodded, pointing to a side street. Her fellow Blessed gave his assent that they'd have better luck off the main avenue and they turned towards the smaller passage through the jumble of buildings.

Dismounting, they chose to walk, guiding the horses, looking for any kind of sign that would lead them to an inn. Quickly, they realized they were already lost in the maze of the city. With none of them having ever been there before, it seemed obvious in hindsight they should've asked directions sooner.

Flagging down a Constable, Leto made the inquires and the band was soon on their way to the nearest stable, which as luck had it, was adjacent to the reputable inn known as the Wanderer’s Rest. The officer had been happy to help two Blessed anyway, and bid them a pleasant evening as he continued on his way. Leto smiled a bit, remembering his own days in a uniform.

As night was falling, they found their destination. The stables, long and wide, cuddled the six-floor inn lovingly, a diminutive Wereraccoon tending the horses inside. Leto paid for care and feeding for them all, thanking the Were as Chara stared at him in awe until Ramora pointed out she was sleeping with a Jaguar.

Embarrassed, the young woman apologized, drawing a bit of laughter from the completely understanding Raccoon. He confided he got it all the time from people new to the city before taking their horses off their hands and sending one of his stable hands to let the innkeeper know they had company coming in.

Following the lad, they found themselves welcomed by a matronly Halfling woman, who made a fuss over two Blessed of the High Gods staying at her inn, and told them eagerly of the time Rumilla Descartes herself had slept under her roof.

"I keep hearing that woman’s name pop up," Chara said to Ramora as the innkeeper led them upstairs. "Is she really that famous?"

The warrior gave her friend a surprised look, asking if she'd really never heard of the oldest and most powerful living Blessed in the Middle World. An Elven Princess, Mistress of Sorcery, and agent of Rajan, Lady Descartes’ was one of the most well-known names not just in their world, but several Shadow Realms as well.

"I've heard of her, sure," Chara muttered. "Just asking if she lives up to the stories."

Ramora shrugged, admitting she'd never met the woman herself. She had, however, heard many tales about her battles against the Demon Seed while living in the High World.