The sky was as grey as the mountains they followed when they started out the next morning. Clouds crowded together overhead promising rain any minute, Bryn thought. The high mood and good cheer of the night before disappeared as they broke camp. If the weather was any indication of how the day would progress, it wasn’ a good sign.
The rain began to fall less than an hour after they began walking. It came down lightly at first but soon grew into a heavy downpour. It was all they could do to tie their coats tighter and pull the few raincoats they still had from the packs to keep dry. The trees overhead provided some protection, but it was little. Soon all were wet and the mood was sour. It didn’t improve any when the last of the salt pork was pulled out and passed around for a sparse and unappetizing lunch.
Well past midday they came to a large road that ran from the east, wet and muddy from the falling rain.
“Be on guard now,” Jurin told them. “If any rebels have been on our trail, they’ll attack somewhere around here.”
No attack came, however, and they turned west and followed the road. It wound through a large canyon that cut right through the mountains and most of the road had to cut back and forth in small switchbacks as it progressed higher and higher, the grey stone walls towering high above them. Their progress was slow due to the steepness of the road and the rain that continued to fall. They saw no other travelers, however, which was a measure of relief to them all. After several hours of nothing ahead of them but road and rock, the mountain walls abruptly receded and after one more rising switchback they were looking down on a large city nestled into the mountains.
At first it was hard to identify as a city. Its large walls were made from the same stone as the mountains, and besides being smaller and jagged from where they were cut, looked no different from the walls that naturally formed on either of its sides. Small houses and buildings, most often made from stone blocks, but sometimes of wood, stretched right up to the walls, sometimes rising higher than the stones that were meant to protect them, which were only built about fifteen feet high. There were only two walls that Bryn could see; the one in front of the city that faced them across the small valley floor, and another a couple hundred feet behind it at the rear of the city, which was made of larger stone blocks and rose much higher. The second was not as long as the first, as the two mountain walls that the city was nestled between crowded closer together as they cut off and enclosed the valley further to the west. Those mountains were the true walls of the city, for nothing could get by them.
A large open space had been cleared leading up to the city gate, which itself was constructed of immense logs that looked to have been felled from some ancient forest of giants, so tall were they. The gate was open outward and several carts and wagons sat idly outside, large tarps thrown over whatever cargo they contained. There was very little movement at all really, and Bryn figured it was probably because of the rain that there was not the same kind of bustle that he had seen at other city gates.
They sky was already dark because of the clouds and the rain, but it was growing even darker. The mountains rose so high on either side of the city that the sun was already behind them before they had even started following the road an hour earlier. Now it was becoming difficult even to see the road as it continued to the gates. Torches were already lit along some of the city streets and within many of the buildings.
Jurin looked over at Pader. “This would be a good time for both of us to enter the city. It’s early enough that the gates are still open, but getting dark so that most people won’t have a chance to get a good look at us.”
“Sounds fine to me,” Pader replied. “I’m just following your lead here.”
“Halam, you and the rest of the men should go back down the road a ways,” Jurin said. “When trees begin to grow plentiful on the sides of the road, find a good spot well out of sight to make camp for the night.” He looked up at the darkening sky. “I know that it’s cold and raining and that it may continue all night, but it would be safer not to make a fire.”
“Aye,” Halam agreed. “How long can we expect you two to be?”
“Hopefully we can make some arrangements tonight, but don’t expect to see us again until morning. We’ll either spend the night in the city or find a spot along the road ourselves.”
Halam nodded and wished them luck, as did the rest of the men, then Jurin and Pader got back on the road and continued down the slight hill that would lead them to the city gates. Bryn couldn’t help but think that under their confident exteriors they both were a little on edge about entering the city. Pader had wanted to go to Bindao several days earlier, but after they were attacked in the hills, all talk of that ceased. With Jurin to lead the way, however, they should be safe. And they did have a large pouch of gold coins. Money would do much more to get them out of trouble then fluent Jongurian. Still, Bryn had to admit to himself that he’d feel much better when they came trudging down the road to meet them in the morning, or better yet, if they were riding in the back of the wagon that Jurin said they’d have a good chance of securing to take them to the docks.
Willem and Iago led the way back down the road they’d already traveled, and shortly before it branched south they headed into the trees for half a league and found a somewhat dry spot to bed down for the night. There was no more salt pork to share around, or anything else, so they all went to bed hungry, hoping that Jurin and Pader would bring food with them the next day. Bryn huddled up in his coat as much as he could to keep out the nighttime chill and drifted off to sleep with thoughts of the fields in Tillatia running through his head.