Chapter 12

A City of Stone

  The morning was cold and frosty due to the nippy northern wind. Last night Bastet expressed that he did not wish to light a fire so that they don’t attract any unwanted attention, but he severely underestimated the northern spring. His body felt weak and heavy, and his runny nose was red in color. Lilian did not want to sleep closer to each other to keep warm. When they discussed what happened the day before, neither of them could come up with an explanation. Lilian said it was an unprecedented phenomenon. Even in the Chronicles of Merax, an exaggerated story of heroism, the hero’s party could only succeed in sealing the baron away, not destroying it. Bastet was sure it was somehow related to Lilian being the harbinger, but he was unsure what that exactly meant. He asked her if she knew anything about it, and she recounted a few stories that mentioned that word, but each in a wildly different context, which brought him no closer to understanding it.

Bastet bit his lip. Now that they were no longer on blighted land, his mind was much clearer. He blamed its influence on him for making the hasty decisions that almost got them killed. But Lilian disagreed and told him not to fret, and that sometimes you have to make choices even when there are no good ones available. But she didn’t want to dwell on this subject. Instead, she kept trying to dig deeper into Bastet’s connection to Kreil. She barraged him with questions – “You’re not strong enough to break into Stormbridge, so how did you get in? And how did you take me out? And how do you know my dad?”

But Bastet promised he would keep what happened a secret from her, and he owed it to Kreil to honor that promise. Besides, Bastet himself didn’t know if Kreil truly lost his life or not. So, what could he even tell her? That her brave father came to her rescue, and that he stayed behind to fight off the pursuers? Just how cruel would that be, when they couldn’t return to Stormbridge to confirm his fate? Knowing this would put her in a state of restless uncertainty between hope and despair, and that was a very dangerous state to be in. Kreil mentioned that Wesians liked to keep their infantry on the brink of death, so Lilian probably didn’t have much life left in her. And if the leak of life force was only as steady as one’s will to go on, telling her the truth could potentially cause it to hasten, which could have catastrophic consequences.

But Bastet’s refusal to talk about Kreil was making Lilian impatient – “Fine, if you won’t tell me how you know my dad, tell me about yourself then.” – She crossed her arms.

-“I’ve lived my life in an isolated, stagnant place. It's not something you’d find in your fancy stories. There’s an old saying” – Bastet smiled – “If the world is ending, you should come to Briskwood. You'll live for a decade or two until it catches up with the times.”

-“I haven’t heard of that place before.” – Lilian raised her eyebrows – “I’m from Crelem. We have a mansion there with a big garden, and a library with so many books that my dad always jokes it’s a mystery how the shelves don’t give in to their weight” – She chuckled – “And trust me, no book remained unread. Dad had very definite ideas about my future and wanted me to follow the same path that he once took. Studying art, history, and the developments of thought.” – As she noticed Bastet nodding his head to her words, her eyes sparkled and she exclaimed victoriously – “Aha! I knew it! My family is not from Crelem, but from Irune! And we don’t have a mansion! How could you be my dad’s friend if you don’t even know where he lives?!”

Bastet sighed – “Fine. Look, you’re right. I am not good friends with your father. But I do know him, and I promise you there’s a good reason why I can’t talk about this. Okay?” – Lilian pouted. Her bluntness made her appear strangely trustable to Bastet, since anyone so crude had to be wearing their heart on their sleeve – “How did an art student end up in the Wesian infantry anyway?”

But she crossed her arms again and ignored his question, which ended this topic. The forest was rather damp, and they got up to drink the water that was collected on the leaves. It was time to get moving. There was some indication that there existed a path here in the past, but it has already been reclaimed by the forest; the trees around weren’t as tall, but the thick thorny bushes were no different than anywhere else. Seeing that Lilian was having difficulty to pave through the prickly foliage while wearing only a sleeveless dress, Bastet once again offered her one of the shirts that he was wearing, but she declined. It was not easy to keep walking in a straight line since there were no landmarks, but Bastet saved them from going in circles by using the morning sun’s position to orientate. They advanced south. If Lilian’s memory served correctly, them crossing the forest in this direction would bring them even deeper in Wesian territory, but going directly through blighted land was too risky.

-“I’m hungry” – Lilian complained with droopy eyes – “You shouldn’t have thrown away the meat.”

-“It was already spoiled.”

-“You know, I always thought you have to experience something great in order to become a good artist. Otherwise, you’d have nothing to convey with your work. That’s why I’ve dreamt of going on an adventure ever since I can remember.” – She groaned as she wrapped her arms around her belly – “But it’s really not been going how I imagined it…”

-“We’re still too close to the blight. We’ll find food soon.” – And truly, after an hour of walking they found something. Hidden under massive leaves were colorful rhubarb stems. Lilian devoured them, not minding the tangy flavor. They had a short break before they continued onwards.

Once the trees cleared and revealed the sun rising over a silvery mountaintop, a blissful smile was drawn over Lilian’s face – “This should be Mount Meramer, if we haven’t gone much off course. And look over there! That’s the city Statia, the cradle of all magic! We have to go there!”

Bastet didn’t share in her excitement – “My… accomplice told me to take you to the Academy of Grand arts.”

-“It’s on the way!” – She shook her head in disapproval and pointed in the distance – “And there’s a small settlement there that is perfect for our needs. We can resupply without running into any high ranking Wesians!”

-“Small settlement?” – Bastet raised his eyebrows – “This city looks bigger than Stormbridge! There’s no way it isn’t squirming with Wesians.”

-“You don’t know the story?” – Lilian tilted her head – “It’s mostly abandoned. It fell to the purple sun’s influence. There’s only a small settlement on its outskirts now, it’s an apple farm.”

-“The purple sun again?” – Bastet squinted – “Why is there a settlement there if it’s full of monsters?”

-“Well, that’s not quite how the story goes…” – She cleared her throat – “About two hundred years ago the kingdom of Veridia moved its capital to one of its towns that was at the foot of a mountain rich in marble, to Statia. It was meant to be a haven of art, especially sculpting. The late king thought that if he brought enough artists together to practice the classical arts, then surely, he would emerge victorious in the race for the divine throne. They say that every corner of the city was decorated with glamorous statues, and some sources even note that the city itself was meant to be a work of art.” – Lilian made a small pause as she looked up – “One day, the purple sun shined over it. And just like that, all the statues came to life and slaughtered everyone. They still patrol parts of the city, but the outskirts are said to be safe.”

-“You called it a cradle of magic? How were they bested by a bunch of statues? I’ve seen what magic can do, and statues shouldn’t stand a chance against it.”

-“This was just four years after the Maker’s departure. And not even a year went by since the first recital of Sete’s comedy, so magic was still in its infancy.”

-“What does a recital have to do with magic?” – Bastet creased his brow.

-“It has everything to do with it!” – Lilian sternly replied – “Sete made fun of the Maker and his intention for us to succeed him. The world can shit on you, but it can't make you care about the stink, he said. The comedy portrayed our fate as a cruel joke, but a joke nonetheless. And to a joke you can respond differently than what the Maker intended. You can laugh at it.” – Lilian looked expectantly at him – “Don’t you get it? Art had the power to defy the Maker’s intention, to deny his will! Magic merely built onto that idea as its foundation. The classics got it all wrong – art was not a mirror to be held up to reality, but a hammer with which to shape it.”

-“So the rest was just a matter of practice then, huh…” – Bastet stroked his chin – “You said the settlement runs an apple farm now, on the outskirts? I can’t really see it from this distance…”

-“Well… There is a single apple tree growing in the town plaza that is very special. As soon as you pick its fruit, the apples would grow right back. It’s a rare case of the purple sun doing something useful. It’s guarded by the statues, but the people living here have dug tunnels to sneak past them. They harvest hundreds of bushels of apples a day...”

Bastet’s mouth watered and his eyes became lost in dreamy contemplation. If they had that much food to spare, surely it wouldn’t be difficult to get some from them – “Let’s go then. However, it’s been some time since these books you read were written. When the very laws of the world can be subjected to change, we shouldn’t rely on them having stayed the same. Let’s take extra caution.” – With those words, they advanced towards Statia.