Magick In Theory And Praxis (1-3)
Chapter 1, Part 3
Welcome back. Magick In Theory And Praxis is a serialized fantasy/sci-fi story. You can find the previous installments here. Once the next installment is released, you can find it here.
The wall had crested the horizon since they left the old house, but it was only as they got closer that the towers were visible. Many were dilapidated, roofs having been blown off in the final conflict which separated the old times from the current times. It was obvious that without roofs, most of the towers had filled with water and sand which forced its way out into the wastes around them. Still, a few towers on the edges of the old city stood as tall as they must have in the ancient times.
None stood as high as the wall. Karatch had been called ‘The Walled City,’ by every trader they met. Each one with a story about Karatch spoke about its mountainous wall, that the thing scraped the clouds. Still, seeing it in person was a spectacle incomparable to imagination. The titanic structure was a beacon, and definitely the most impressive construct that Nurelien had ever seen. Its height rivaled mountains. After the sandstorm yesterday, it was no wonder why they would have to create such a structure in order to protect themselves.
That couldn’t be the only reason, though. If magic wasn’t allowed within Karatch, Nurelien was certain there was more going on behind the wall than any trader had ever discussed.
Atop one of the towers, Versat pointed out a figure. From this distance, it was hard to make out any details, but it was clearly human. Torns waved, and though the person up there moved, they did not return the greeting.
Distant roaring erupted through the wastes. Nurelien felt he was at a disadvantage with the birdcage in one hand. As the sound grew closer, he reached into his pocket with his free hand and felt for his knife. A small prick wouldn’t be enough to put up a good defense, but it might be able to conjure an illusion. Anything greater than that, though, would cut through the wrapping and likely reveal himself. It wasn’t a risk he wanted to take.
“Look,” Torns pointed at a path between the towers. A large hunk of metal sped toward them. It rolled upon four large rubber wheels. “I’ve never seen a working vehicle before,” Torns gasped, his face painted with a grin. The man driving the car was the only one sitting. The rest stood, each holding machines that filled Nurelien with dread.
“Those are guns,” Versat hissed.
There was no time to say anything else. The car filled with people had approached. Each wore identical, thick outfits of black. Versat knew that the bulky uniforms were made of kevlar, a technology she believed had been lost with the old ones. There was no armor stronger, and no armor lighter. She would have found it breathtaking if the guns weren’t being pointed at them. She raised her hands above her head. Nurelien had to put the birdcage down, but the other two quickly followed suit.
“We’re traders,” Versat shouted. “Please don’t attack us.”
“Never seen you before,” one of the men said.
“We come from the sinking fortress beyond the Bleeding Sea,” Versat said.
“What have you got?” the man asked.
“We will only trade with Atmus,” Versat said.
“Traders don’t enter the city. You will trade with us.”
“What we have is too valuable,” Versat bargained. “Only Atmus.”
“Tell us,” another man shouted.
Versat gestured for permission to approach the car. One of the men in kevlar looked at another who nodded. Versat walked over, slowly taking her bag from her back and opening it.
Torns’ breathing picked up as Versat walked closer. The car was filled with about five men, each with a gun at the ready. He imagined that the driver had one too, so that would make six guns firing at them if anything went wrong. He knew Versat only had a crude electric gauntlet she had fashioned herself, and if Nurelien used any magic, that would compromise the whole deal. None of them had been expecting this. They were completely at the mercy of these men. He whispered a prayer that Versat would be able to convince them they should be granted entry to Karatch. Otherwise, these men would surely kill them and take what they had to offer for themselves.
Versat handed the bag to one of the men who put his gun down. Two of the others trained their beads on her, leaving one gun for the Torns and Nurelien each.
“You have to see this,” the man looking into the bag said to the others. One by one, he passed the bag between them, and each man’s eyes lit up at the sight within the bag.
They gave it back to Versat who quickly zipped it up.
“We will take you to the door of the city,” the first man to look into the bag, clearly the leader, told them.
A sigh of relief escaped Torns. His shoulders slumped as he put his hands down. Three of the men got out of the car, approaching him and Nurelien.
“You, give me your cross.” The man who said it reached his hand out to Torns.
“What?” Torns scoffed. “It’s only a cross.”
“You will get it back when you leave,” the man started to raise his gun. “You can not enter the city with that on.”
Torns acquiesced, lifting the cross off of his neck. He kissed it before handing it to the man.
“And you,” Now the man looked at Nurelien. “Show me your hands.”
Nurelien removed his gloves, revealing his hands wrapped in bandages. “A hermit attacked us. My hands were badly burnt in the scuffle. We lost our two fighters, and a medic. Please, we have no more fresh gauze.”
The man looked back to the car at the leader of the group who offered a slight nod. “Okay, but you must remove your hat and give it to me.”
Nurelien blinked. Was magic really so offensive to this city that they couldn’t stand the sight of a wizard’s hat? And why did they take the cross from Torns? His stomach was sinking as he stammered, “This was my father’s hat. I can’t part with it, even for a moment.”
“Your father was a wizard?” The man growled.
“His father was Etchoutsu,” Torns chuckled. “I’m not sure if you’ve met a trader who knew him, but I assure you the man was no more a wizard than I am a child.”
The man in front of them looked to the driver, who seemed to be the oldest of the bunch. Crows feet were scrunching around his eyes, the hint of a smile trying to peek out from his mouth. “There are many stories from my time at your rank,” he said.
“Then you know,” Torns said. “The man simply wasn’t capable of teaching someone anything about magic.” Nurelien glared at Torns, but regardless the priest continued. “If he had any knowledge of magic, he wouldn’t have endeavored to teach someone about it. He wouldn’t want anyone to know more than him.”
The driver laughed despite himself. The leader frowned at him, but the driver just couldn’t help himself. “The hat is clearly sentimental. Let him keep it.”
The leader took a deep breath, then nodded to the man on the ground.
Nurelien and Torns climbed into the back of the car with Versat. They set their bags on the floor in front of them, only the driver and the leader coming along with them. The rest of the men began marching back toward the wall behind them.
The ride to the wall was silent. The two up front didn’t seem to have anything to say to the strangers, either that or it wasn’t their place. Nurelien looked to the side, at all the towers they passed. He sighed, thinking about his father.
Aahhh — I think I’m beginning to see what this world looks like.