They took an elevator down, rustling past the walkways and gears. Then boarded a carriage to the train station.
A curved colossus of a building in steel and glass, reflecting what little light pierced the haze. Behind a spiked fence, lines of tracks cut through the slums.
It was bustling with commotion, much unlike the hushed church of the Saint. Men in sot-stained workers uniform, hauling crates onto carts, while nobles in regal dresses and pompous suits stepped towards waiting carriages. Above, officers watched over the whirlpool from raised booths.
“We will take a regular train up north.” Edmund explained to the wide eyed crew. “To the mines of Stonemourn. There, we’ll meet up with the rest of the crew.”
After standing in a line that moved with the speed of a dead snail, they paid for tickets at a booth. The wait didn’t stop Edmund, still haggling for a minute about sending a receipt copy to the Bureau of the Hunt. Passed the booths, they pressed their way to the hall, a space large enough to fit several blocks. All shielded by plates of metal and glass. Walkways snaked around machinery and cranes, the entire building moving as if alive.
From tubes ending in funnels, distorted voices shouted announcements loud enough to blast against Wretch’s eardrums. A sense of nausea creeping up on him. After a minute of shuffling between pedestrians, they arrived.
“By the Saint, it’s huge!” Wretch said with wide eyes.
“Never seen a train up close, have you, Ratty?” Elenya said with a taunting grin, giving a smack on the shoulder. Before him stood a towering machine. Eight metres tall and several hundred meters long. Dark metal spikes lined the sides, and atop every fifth cart sat a giant metal apparatus. Each with a protected seat, surrounded by a cluster of tubing and gears. A long barrel pointing forward. “What’s that?” Wretch asked, pointing to the contraption.
“Steam-cannons.” Edmund said, looking between the paper ticket and the numbers on the carts. “Costs a fortune to make, and the pressure needed to fire them means they can only be stationary. They forge those near Saint’s Summit.”
“And the spikes?” Wretch asked.
“Defense. You’ve seen what’s out there.”
“I hope we get to fight something.” Wretch said as he looked at the metal beast.
“That’s my little Ratty!” Elenya said, ruffling his hair. “ Do me a favor and drop the scholar act.”
They stepped through a spiked door as thick as his arm. Unlike the crude and protective exterior, the inside was lavish. Carpets, oil lamps and cushioned seats in booths.
They stored their luggage in a metal cage, but Wretch brought two books with him, the anatomy volume and the Compendium of the hunt. He caught himself tapping a gloved claw against the leather cover.
Not nervousness, anticipation.
He had never left the city, nor had he wanted to. To him, the outer walls of Nov Yanosk might as well have been the edge of the world. But those horizons were broadening. They had to if he was going to climb to the top. A summit where Maria the impaler, Gustavius the lion and general Frederic of many oaths resided, perhaps his father was there too. He’d line that path with the blood of the city’s enemies.
Ember, Fireling, Blaze, Pyre and beyond.
A whistle shrieked from the front, and the giant machine moved. The cabins were packed, six seats in each. Relaxed conversation over the low rumbling of gears and pistons.
Through a window criss-crossed with metal bars, Wretch could see the world move by, industries, neighborhoods and slums blurring past.
A young gentleman excused himself and took a seat on the other side of Wretch. They rolled to a stop in front of the outer wall. Seeing it up close for the first time, it was far larger than he had imagined. A hundred meters of smooth rock sloping towards the sky.
The thud of heavy metal rang from somewhere ahead, and he could hear Astrid’s heartbeat quicken. She was leaning forward close to the armored window, already scribbling in a notepad.
The train sped up again, barreling through a dark tunnel. Then, a light grew stronger.
And the city was gone.Just like that, they’d gone beyond the edge of his old world. Beyond it, overgrown ruins and cracked roads laid in disarray. Twisting trees and bushes claiming what must have once been an outer part of the city. The train curved, and they glimpsed the outer side of the wall.
Wretch and Astrid gasped.Gashes, marks and craters the size of buildings covered the exterior surface off the wall, running into the distance.
“Saint all-mighty.” Wretch whispered. “What could do that?”
Elenya scoffed and leaned back with crossed arms as the train rushed forward, accelerating to breakneck speed.
“Why isn’t this mentioned in the literature?” Astrid said with eyes red from a lack of blinking.
“Because some truths are best kept from the masses.” Edmund said as he peeked outside. “We are almost at the lost wall. Keep your eyes peeled. It will be good for you to see. So you should know what we have lost,” Edmund said to Astrid and Wretch, who were leaning towards the window.
The gentleman turned his head and gave a nod, as if he approved. The further they traveled, the more the landscape became shattered. Ruins toppled, giant craters and unnatural jutting rocks, all overgrown by a veil of vegetation.
“Damn…” Wretch mumbled. It was all he could think of saying.
“Just wait,” Edmund answered with a smile that made tiny wrinkles appear at the edges of his eyes.
Then something stretched from the horizon. Another wall. Taller than Nov Yanosk’s, casting shadows on the ruins and shattered ground.It was decimated, with entire sections blown away, cracked and scarred.
“The Lost Wall,” Astrid said without breaking her gaze.
“What happened here?” Wretch asked.
“Who knows.” Edmund said, amused by their reaction. “It was lost so many generations ago, the knowledge must have been forgotten.”
“A war,” the gentleman said. His tone was distant and more youthful than he looked. The group turned to him. Wretch took in the gentleman through his sunglasses. Jet black hair combed back to one side. Blue eyes behind a pair of spectacles. Thin, not much older than thirty, but still carried a proud and intellectual presence.
“How do you know?” Elenya asked, squinting at the stranger. “Historian, are you?”
He blinked as if caught, giving an awkward look. “Of sorts. More of the freelance type.”
Wretch tilted his head and stuck out his gloved hand. “Nice to meet you. My name's Wretchy.”
The man hesitated, then shook his hand. A handful of scars on his fingers. “Dimitrov. A pleasure.”
“What more do you know, Mr Dimitrov?” Wretch pressed with piqued interest.
The man cleared his throat. Eyes flicking to the door.“A little of everything, Nothing forbidden, of course.” He gave a sigh. “Why don’t you ask?”
Wretch ignored the discomfort of the man without a second thought. “How does the Flame decide who gets the chance to ascend?” Wretch said.“Kid,” Edmund said, rubbing his forehead. ”Give the man some space.”
He looked up at Dimitrov“Apologizes. We’re Blessed. Hunters to be precise. These two haven’t been outside Nov Yanosk before. Forgive their excitement.” Edmund said and gestured to a staring Wretch and Astrid scribbling at inhuman speed.
Dimitrov held up his hands defensively, a scab on his wrist. “It's fine, I don’t mind,” he said before taking a breath and giving a thoughtful look.
“Well,” he began. “I think that the old flame grants names because you symbolize something in the world. Embody if you will. The most accurate marksman. The most infatuated by the storm.”
Elenya smirked. “Hear that, Ratty. You're the world’s leading rat connoisseur.”
Wretch scoffed.“And you’re the most violent lunatic to ever board a train.”
“Damn right,” She answered, leaning back with a satisfied look.
Astrid ripped her gaze from the window. “That’s interesting, and in line with my theory! Do you mind discussing it with me?” She said with pleading eyes.
“I don’t know that much more, I am afraid,” Dimitrov said, eyes drifting towards the ceiling.“What about the blessings then, I heard some practices could create certain types of Blessed?” Astrid asked curiously, turning another page in her notebook.
Dimitrov coughed and flashed a lopsided smile. “Well, I have met more than one hunter with the same Blessing, there seems to be a handful of domains from where the powers stem.” “Flame of Ends.” Wretch and Astrid said in unison. They’d meet a Blessed with power over the dead in a family tomb dedicated to the Flame of Ends.
Edmund gave them a look from under his hat. “I remind you of the non disclosure agreements we regularly sign.” Astrid blinked and placed a hand over her mouth, but Dimitrov just laughed. “I’m sorry. I don't want to get you in trouble. These are all just my theories. But so far I have seen at least three categories. Ingenuity, Beast and Death.”Wretch nodded and stretched, revealing the black skin under his sleeve for a split second. Dimitrov didn’t miss it. “I’ve met plenty of beasts, but Ingenuity, that’s news to me?” Dimitriov clasped his hand, placing them on his lap as he vibrated from the speeding train. “I believe it’s rare among beasts. Humans seem to have it the most. capable of creating Blessed contraptions. The Gulschak’s have mastered it.” Wretch snapped his eyes towards the man, a twitch along his face.“My wife.” Edmund said distantly “She had powers like that, could make ticking gears out of anything.” Astrid had been quiet, scribbling in her notebook at an ever increasing pace, but now burst out in a cry. “Of course! That makes perfect sense. Please let me discuss more. Meeting you has been a true boon!” “It’s all just theories of mine.” Dimitrov said defensively, peering out the window as the wilderness and odd ruin flashed by. Astrid continued her one-sided conversation, not leading to any new revelation. Wretch relaxed to the thumping of the train and mumbling of voices.Beast Flame huh, It would be something like that wouldn’t it.
Three hours later the train slowed once more. Wretch had read a few chapters in his anatomy-book. He would like to dig through the Hunter’s Compendium, but the scholar was to close.
They approached the stronghold of Voska, a hub that dealt in lumber. Their only stop before the mining city of Stonemourn. As they got closer, the trees outside grew taller, reaching titanic proportions that blotted out the suns.
Fatigued from reading, he closed the book to let his eyes wander. The outside shifted. A clear-cut area of wooden spikes and barbed wire. The defensive perimeter of Voska. A long stretch of mud, dug down battlements and spiked wires. How many Blessed were stationed there, Wretch could only guess. Soon, they rolled through the wooden palisade into the city itself.
The settlement was only a few blocks, crouching under a fallen archway of a massive bridge. Solid bronze-tinted rock formed the overpass, reaching as high as the trees in the distance. Beneath the ruins, clusters of houses and sawmills sought protection from whatever lived in the forests beyond.
“So how do you know these things? Do you work for the church?” Astrid asked the awkward historian named Dimitrov, who’d just survived an extended interrogation from the healer.
“You could say that.” He said with a sigh of relief. Standing up to smooth his coat. “This is my stop. I wish you an uneventful ride to your destination.”
Halfway out the door, he froze.
Wretch glanced up, seeing the man's face.
He was staring. The eyes fixed at the books on Wretch’s lap.
The aloof air was gone. His back was straight and his eyebrows furrowed. For a moment he sniffed in the air, as if scenting prey.“It won’t fix you…” He said eyes flickering up to peer into his. “Not meeting him, nor ascending, None of it. Trust me.” With a blink, he was back to his usual smiling, awkward nature and he gave a hurried nod and stepped out the hallway.“What was that about?” Elenya said with a yawn. “Damn scholars.”
Wretch tilted his head, what did he mean by that? and why had been something familiar about him. He looked out the window as the man disappeared into a whirlpool of people. With his sharp eyesight he saw it, the roots of his hair were white beneath jet black.
How unlucky, gray hair at that age. It was almost white. Must have used a dye to cover it.
Wretch let his mind wander as a whistle signaled their departure. Soon they rolled out of Voska, passing through the mud towards the towering wilds.
That reaction to the books…He looked down at the tomes. One had a marred surface, with cuts and bruises. The Compendium of the hunts. He flipped it open, revealing his father’s message. Grow thy flame and meet me at the summit. What remains of you, I shall call kin.
His heart skipped a beat.
Wretch snapped his head down, flipping through the pages.
“Son.” Edmund asked in the rattling cabin. “Are you alright?”
Wretch swallowed. “I… I think I know that man.”