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The Black Chapel
III
The walk back to the city of Bridgeville is a pleasant one, I am told, when taken in the twilight – especially if Luna has hidden herself from Gaia for the night. Only the small specks of stars glint in the pitch-black of the sky, the great Nuin-covl as the elves call it. Shadows are deep and pure and the wind whispers its lost secrets to you.
One comes to the top of a hill after only a few hours’ walk, and below, with two large rivers sweeping from the north to merge within the city, stands Bridgeville. When I was very young it was such a glorious sight that it left me spellbound. The city is bright and alive, even at night, and its bustling and cacophonous sounds carry upon the wind as I stand here even now, looking at the decrepit town that I have seen evolve for the past four hundred years. It is wild and prosperous, but generally good – little trouble to be found in even the darkest alley.
I despise this newfound peace; I work against it every day. But the actions of one are little against the tide of thousands. I have heard philosophers say, though, that time and humanity swings on a pendulum. In my youth, distant as it is, this city was far smaller and far more evil that it is now. I found refuge in it, its crooked alleys and filthy streets. I was a boy thief, embittered and too old already, waging a war against everything and everyone that had wronged me. Winning that war had its own price: I now wage war against all the universe. And the universe is winning. For now.
The trip back to the West Gate is a long one for me, but not long enough. Here, so many years ago, another man reached the gate just as I have so many times. His skin was dark, and his hair black, his frame stout, but so muscular that he nearly matched my unholy strength. His past was obscure even to his best of friends.
The luyj are a strange and alien race. No one knows where they come from or where they go – only that their appearances seem to be dark harbingers. I did not know this man’s name until long after he had let this city for other adventures, but while he was here, the chaos led him to Nicholas.
I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI
copyright november, 1999 noah mclaughlin