Ten days later, the Millionth and Fifth trudged onto a dry and dusty plateau, speckled with mini tropical forests and hanging gardens that drooped over the edges of hills and boulders. Dawit hung back several paces behind Shem and Avana, who were walking as far apart as their formation would allow. The rest of the troop were spaced out intermittently behind them.
The first hint of the Stronghold was a thin line of dazzling white rock that seemed to span the entire horizon. They were still a good two and a half miles from the outer walls; nevertheless, the full weight of their scale cast a shadow of trepidation over the Millionth and Fifth.
Slowing his stride, Dawit fell back beside Keon.
“Listen, there’s a couple things you should know before we go in,” he said. “To enter the Stronghold, we have to pass through the Golden Gate. It’s like a walled city all on its own. Beyond that, the rest of Midnah-Dogu stretches for miles. Once we’re inside the Gate, we have to mask up,” he held up a strip of fabric lined with parchment. “Moonlamps burn pages from their Codices and fill the whole city with fumes. Inhale them and you’ll get infected.”
“With what?”
“Confusion. As long as you wear this, the pages inside will counteract the effects.”.
Keon listened intently, taking mental notes.
“Everything inside the Gate is designed to keep you there. So, don’t buy anything. Not even food.”
Keon scoffed, “How can I? I don’t have any money.”
“Knowledge and information are Underland’s currency. If someone offers you something; mangoes, jewellery, even a banana—don’t take it. It’ll seem like they’re giving you a gift, but they’ll want something in return. All they have to do is ask questions.”
“So, what; don’t answer any questions?”
“Don’t give away anything personal. Not even your name.”
“What’ll they do with it?”
“They’ll sell it,” said Kai, coming up on the other side. “Probably to the Mysts.”
“Are you serious?!”
“They run a market here in the city,” said Dawit, nodding in the direction of the approaching walls. “The Bedesten.”
“What do they sell there?”
“Information—and if the rumours are true—Mirrors.”
* * *
By the time they neared the walls, they’d turned their shawls inside out to hide the Torchbearer seals on their backs. Hooded and masked, they kept their chins close to the chest; eyes peeking out beneath fraying hems.
Keon was having a hard time keeping his hood down low (so as to look broody) and seeing where he was going. Several times he almost tripped on slabs of rock jutting out of the ground. All he could make out was the pale, sand-like dust of the land bridge.
After one last trip, Shem grabbed the scruff of his neck and tugged on the tip of his hood.
“Eyes up mate. We’re almost there.”
As he raised his chin, Keon’s gaze roamed across the looming, three-tiered marvel of Midnah-Dogu. Hundreds of white statues lined the walls, spaced evenly between the battlements; their heads wreathed in carved turbans, each brandishing long javelins. Were they there to intimidate travellers or ward people off? He could have sworn some of them were moving, but that was absurd.
The gleaming inner, outer and lower walls were separated by terraces; each wall of hewn white marble holding back escarpments in the land. The lower wall crowned the edges of a moat that spanned the entire width of the Stronghold; broken by bridges every two-hundred metres.
Sapphire bricks lined the tips of the battlements and cut through the white walls in seven bands. The inner wall was fortified by intermittently spaced square towers. About halfway between each tower, smaller rounded towers held up the outer wall. And there, just peeking over the inner walls, he could see pillars of dark orange smoke wafting into the air. Other than that, he thought—
“This place looks beautiful…”
“Don’t be deceived,” said Avana, “It’s nothing but a white-washed tomb.”
Before he could question her sudden concern for his safety, she took off in a brisk stride. A tap on the back caught his attention. Jonas was signing in the direction of the walls.
“We’re about to pass through the Gate,” said Zahara.
White marble steps marched up a ramp leading onto the main bridge. The bridge stood across from the entrance to the Golden Gate; a gold paved courtyard guarded by two colossal flanking towers. A triad of golden doors were embedded in the main walls, each capped by a latticed arch.
The flanking towers seemed to swell around them as they crossed the bridge into the courtyard. Billowing red banners, embroidered with gold, fell down their sides from top to bottom; buffeted by the breeze funnelling through the courtyard.
The central twin doors were flung open, beyond which, Keon could just about make out the golden paths of dusty streets winding between white, flat-roofed buildings.
Two great, pearlescent effigies of hooded women stood either side of the open doors. The hoods clung tight to their foreheads, the sides falling down their cheeks like drapes that met below the navel. Chiselled across their chests, beneath the opening of the hoods, were the scales of armoured breastplates. In opposing hands, they brandished lengthy, gleaming glaives. As the Millionth and Fifth drew near, their alabaster heads creaked to look at them. The glaives suddenly crossed to bar their path, almost shocking Keon out of his skin.
“Almuluk bids you welcome travellers. What business brings you to Midnah-Dogu?”
Their carved features were alluring; the marble seeming to melt and warp as they moved. They spoke in cursive tones, thickened with an accent reminiscent of Wellworn’s. One would be forgiven for forgetting they were made of stone.
Dawit stepped forward, shoulders squared.
“We’re just passing through.”
Their porcelain faces shone with smiles that would warm the heart of any man.
“You must be weary from your travels. The hospitality of the Golden Gate is without rival in these lands. We would be honoured if you dined with us…”
“Perhaps some other time,” said Dawit, his eyes not leaving theirs.
The stone sentinels bowed, yielding. The glaives slowly creaked apart, opening the way.
“As you wish.”
Dawit chanced a glance at Shem who dipped his head in approval.
The group passed through the open doors into a long, vaulted corridor. Geometric, arabesque patterns adorned the walls on all sides, rising to curve across an arched ceiling.
“That didn’t seem too hard,” whispered Keon.
“Getting in isn’t the problem. It’s getting out the other side,” said Dawit.
“What were those things anyway?”
“Mynds,” said Zahara, stifling a snicker at his shock, “Not all Mynds are hideous, just like all ideas aren’t bad ideas.”
“So, what’s the big idea?” he said, signalling back with his head, “Get it? The big…”
Everybody got it, just nobody thought it was funny. Except, maybe Dawit; but he wasn’t about to let on.
“It’s less an idea and more a persuasive lie,” said Avana, turning to look at him, “That Midnah-Dogu is a paradise.”
“I take it you don’t like this place much,” said Keon.
“I’m not overly fond of Moonlamps.”
The rush and heat of would-be sunlight hit Keon’s forehead as they exited the archway, forcing him to pull down on his hood. As his eyes adjusted, the bustling streets and white walls of the Golden Gate melted into view. The scent of kofte and fresh flatbread danced across the air. Perfumes and spices of every imagination jostled for a place in his nostrils. Market stools lined the edges of dusty streets, decorated with hundreds of tiny, twinkling mirrors, clinking together on strands of twine.
Even masked, he couldn’t hide the smile breaking out across his face.
“Now this is more like it!”
Hustle, bustle and busyness abounded, with people skittering left and right like worker ants. Some of them observed the new arrivals with scepticism, others with curiosity. In their travels, they had barely seen any sign of life in Underland other than themselves, but Midnah-Dogu was practically bursting at the seams. Young and old. Male and female. Multiple hues of sun-soaked brown.
“We should split up,” said Shem, “We’ll draw less attention that way.”
Dawit nodded.
“Meet on the other side of the gate. Keon, Kai; you come with me. Zahara, you go with Jonas.”
Shem and Avana shot Dawit a look as he grinned with mischief.
“And you two,” he said, index finger swinging back and forth between them, “Play nice, yeah?”
Avana grimaced as Shem shuffled awkwardly in the dust beside her. He blinked, eyeing the crowded streets for a possible path through the walled city.
“Come on,” he grunted.
“We’re not together, we’re just going the same way,” she muttered, pushing past him.
Keon snickered to himself as he, Dawit and Kai wound their way through the dusty avenues.
“What’s so funny?” asked Dawit.
Keon shook his head in gleeful silence.
“Nothin’”
Nobody noticed the man, lounging behind a market stool of wicker baskets, intently eyeing them through the tinkling mirrors across the street.
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