Chapter 11: Blades for Wings

The morning began with a mist, making it difficult to see far from the ship. Once the sun rose higher in the sky, the fog dissipated, and off in the distance, a series of towers reached for the clouds. The towers were smooth, white stone, as if made by the gods. When we grew near, I made out five towers, each coming to a point, the one closest to the ocean the thickest and highest, windows designating different levels.

At the root of the towers was a series of buildings, domes with arches and covered walkways between. The complex was like a small city and surrounded by a high wall. The structures and walls were made of the same white stone.

The Citadel.

The mist burned away while the clean, white towers grew closer, making the Citadel appear like a paradise in the clouds, a majestic home of supernatural beings, immortal and incorruptible.

But I knew what lived there. Death. They trained elves in the various ways of assassination and strategy, manipulation and power over others. Those elves were the ultimate weapon of the Emperor, and humanity his primary target.

The wind whipped my hair, and I turned my face into it, my eyes never leaving the Citadel.

Lyne leaned against the railing next to me. “What do you think?”

I narrowed my eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes.”

“Am I allowed to say it scares the crit out of me?”

Lyne chuckled. “The Citadel has been my home for many years. It is not a place that welcomes our kind.”

“Humans.”

She nodded. “Those halls and towers are designed to cause fear, in their own way, however beautiful. I’m sure they want us afraid, so you are allowed.”

Still holding onto the railing of the ship, I stood to my full height, resolving to not feel that fear, to not surrender to that hand of Tablets. With the Citadel growing larger in my vision, it didn’t really work.

Galen joined us on the deck, his white hair tied behind him and flapping in the breeze. “Grab your things. It is time.”

The Last Sentinel drew near the long pier that extended from the Citadel, and other ships were moored there, both larger and smaller. Our boat docked easily, the crew working with expert precision.

I had grabbed my bag – only a few changes of clothes – and stood on the deck when the ramp was lowered down to the dock. Galen descended the ramp first, then I followed, Lyne after me. She carried far more than I did, so I grabbed a couple of her packs, too, once we stood on the pier. Galen carried nothing except a sword at his belt.

Two humans hustled past us back up the ramp. They both bore the eagle tattoo on their wrist, a sign of slavery in the Kryan Empire. While they averted their eyes with Galen, one of them flashed a glance at me, a strange mixture of fear and curiosity in his eye.

I stumbled at the look and skipped to catch up with Galen.

Galen led us toward the shore and a path through high stone and rock before we entered the complex through a high arch in the wall, thick golden doors open wide. We continued along the path, white cobblestone under our feet, until we came to a massive, domed building, what appeared to be the center of the complex.