Chapter Gate of Kalarinth

Twenty-one days later, we find Rutherford’s lair.

It can’t be coincidence that the new Apex has chosen the same lair as the old; Rutherford must have known it would be the first place we’d look. The signs are clear: the trail of bones, the claw-marked ancient masonry powdered all over the canyon, the sulphuric stink…and that intangible weight on the back of the head, like being stalked by a giant.

At the end of the canyon stands a great statue sculpted into the cliffs. Its head, with a crown of obsidian, lays shattered in the dirt. No sign of its arms; the stone shoulders from which they were rend look smooth and unmarked, the wounds long healed by the winds of time.

Peeking around the statue’s feet, Kathanhiel signals to stop.

‘We make camp here,’ she says. ‘Come nightfall, we leave horse and gear and proceed on foot.’

Beyond the statue, beyond the wide canyon in which we had hiked for five days, is a city of giants. Massive rectangular buildings sprout from the granite earth in obsessively straight rows, stretching to the far horizon; some are slim and towering, others larger and wider than all of Iborus combined. All are hewn from the same black-red rock as the roads between them, as are the crumbling statues that stand vigil atop every conceivable construction. Little giants must really love sculpting themselves.

Nine out of ten buildings are rubble. Someone – something – had put effort into grinding these granite behemoths to fist-sized chunks, yet a notable few are still intact. About two hundred paces from the canyon, striding over a debris-covered street, is a massive crystalline arch that glows blue-white in the pale sunlight.

In the distance, in perfect alignment with the arch, is a great citadel set upon a mound of what appears to be black diamonds. Of course there’s no such thing as a magic castle, but the way it’s glittering in the sun, the way brilliant rainbow colours bounce from its forest of spires…

Magical.

‘Last I was here, many of these were still standing,’ said Kathanhiel, pointing at the rubble. ‘Rutherford must’ve had them torn down…for what, I cannot say.’ She indicates the crystalline arch. ‘The Gate of Kalarinth, one of the seven entrances to the Exposition, the city in which the little giants had displayed all their creations.’

‘Display…so they didn’t live here?’

‘Some did I suppose. But little giants don’t congregate like we humans do. This place was built to satisfy their pride, not any desire for society.’ She grins. ‘There would’ve only been jealousy here. And vicious competition.’

‘Sounds exhausting.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ She points to the mound in the distance. ‘The Kalarinth Citadel, the Seat of the Wardens, the residence of those who had been charged to guard this lifeless sprawl. I slew Elisaad in its halls ten years ago. All signs are showing that –’

She yanks me to the ground; I hear it too, the beating of wings.

Five seconds later a bronze-scaled dragon flies overhead, its wraith-like shadow combing over the earth. No way could it have spotted us from that angle, even if it wasn’t so burdened with…with…

The dragon’s belly is round and protruding, out of proportion with the rest of its body three times over.

‘The mule,’ Kathanhiel whispers in my ear, ‘delivers sustenance to the Apex.’

Toward the black mound it flies, wings beating sluggishly. Globules of brown stuff is leaking out of its backside along the way, splattering and as they splash onto the granite rubble.

That is absurd. It’s taking a…while carrying…

I feel the giggles coming and they cannot be stopped. ‘It’s…letting loose because it ate – did you see its – it had to – lighten the load –’ I must be turning purple.

At first I figured she would straighten me up; that hope died when Kathanhiel too started rolling on the ground laughing. ‘Retention of waste,’ Kathanhiel says between shivering fits, ‘is an impediment to flight. They are like pigeons.’

My laugh turns high-pitched. What a ridiculous thing for a dragon slayer to say. Haylis would have approved.

Nightfall.

No human heart is supposed to beat this fast. It’s hammering against my ribcage like some cornered animal, tearing and thumping out of terror. There is no helping it. The head can be as calm as it wants, but the body does its own thing.

Snow is falling again, hard and fast this time. The wind howling through the canyon stabs needles of ice into the nape of my neck. In this blizzard, a regular person would be freezing solid no matter how many layers he wore…but surviving a slit throat isn’t really among the paradigms of normality. Kaishen, unsheathed and faintly glowing, stings my hand with pulses of warmth;

it says.

Soon.

In the pitch black, the great constructions of the little giants are but solid shadows, looming just out of reach. It’s easy to tell whether we are surrounded by building or rubble; the bitter wind ebbs and flows in between them, taunting us little humans with their impetuous strength. Three times now a sudden gust had almost knocked me over. Don’t want that. Would be hard to stand up again. Kathanhiel has looped her arm through mine, dragging me forward whenever my feet feel like giving up.

There’s a single point of light in the impenetrable darkness, and it’s getting closer: the Kalarith Citadel, glowing upon its black mound – none of that kaleidoscopic stuff like during the day, just orange and red, the colours of dragon fire. A big reptile trying to keep warm.

Before us, the Apex. Around us, the blizzard. Here’s to hoping that these ruins are empty…

As we come upon the biggest building yet – a perfect cube propped up from underneath by what seems to be thousands of stout pillars – Kathanhiel pulls me close. ‘We go around,’ she says.

Squinting makes no difference; couldn’t make out what’s hidden in those shadows no matter how hard I look. She must have a good reason though.

Walking. Walking.

Snow has piled up, each step more difficult than the one before. Doesn’t help that the cube-building seems to be infinitely wide. We walk and walk and walk and there is no end to it. The light upon that black mound, so distinct a moment ago, has disappeared; of course it did, it’s on the other side this stupid building.

Which way are we going? Blinded by night, deafened by the blizzard, sense of smell nullified by the freezing cold…the only tangible reality that remains is the warmth of Kathanhiel’s grip around my elbow. If she lets go…

Walking. Walking.

So cold. The snow is knee-deep now. This was a bad idea. Has my head been buzzing all this time? Something is here, watching us. No, watching There is that feeling again: a clawed hand prying apart the grey stuff in my head, getting worse with every step. Can’t think about that, can’t. Focus on walking: left, right, left, right…

How big is this building?

My foot catches onto something. Falling. My face plants squarely into the snow. So cold. It’s alright Kathanhiel will pull me back up don’t worry about it –

Her hand is gone.

The world is spinning. It has to be. How else am I glued onto the ground like a kid stuck in a carousal that’s going way, way too fast? My hands slap around in the dark but they hit nothing but snow and cold earth. She was ! Where did – where did –

Wait.

Kaishen. My hands are empty.

But I standing. The mountains, the dead city, the frigid night…gone. My feet are on solid ground, and this weird wall of snow in my face is crumbling, crumbling…and there is a path behind it.

Cobblestone trail. A warm breeze. Pleasant sunlight. And in the distance…

Oh.