family, he felt himself being jolted back to life. This place was so startling, so alive, it was hard to enter and not be distracted. He felt a stirring of purpose as he realized, inside these gates, were others like him, like-minded friends of Marco, set on vengeance against Pandesia. He looked up at it all in wonder, all the people of different garb and manner and race, all rushing in every direction. It was a true cosmopolitan city.
“Keep your head down,” Marco hissed to him, as they passed through the eastern gate, merging into the mobs.
Marco nudged him.
“There.” Marco nodded to a group of Pandesian soldiers. “They’re checking faces. I am sure they search for ours.”
Alec reflexively tightened his grip on his dagger, and Marco reached over and grabbed his wrist firmly.
“Not here, my friend,” Marco cautioned. “This is no country village but a city of war. Kill two Pandesians at the gate, and an army will follow.”
Marco stared at him with intensity.
“Would you rather kill two?” he pressed. “Or two thousand?”
Alec, realizing the wisdom in his friend’s words, released his grip on his dagger, summoning all his will to quell his passion for vengeance.
“There will be many chances, my friend,” Marco said, as they pressed on through the crowd, heads lowered. “My friends are here, and the resistance is strong.”
They merged with the throng passing through the gate, and Alec lowered his eyes so the Pandesians would not see them.
“Hey you!” a Pandesian barked. Alec felt his heart pounding as he kept his head down.
They rushed his way, and he tightened his grip on his dagger, preparing. But they stopped a boy beside him, instead, roughly grabbing his shoulder and checking his face. Alec breathed deep, relieved it was not him, and he passed through the gate quickly, undetected.
They finally entered the city square, and as Alec pulled back his hood and looked inside the city, he was in awe at the sight before him. There, before him, stretched all the architectural magnificence and bustle of Ur. The city seemed to be alive, pulsing, shining in the sun, seeming to actually sparkle. At first Alec could not understand why, and then he realized: the water. Everywhere was water, the city laced with canals, blue water sparkling in the morning sun, making the city feel as if it were one with the sea. The canals were filled with every manner of vessel – rowboats, canoes, sailing boats – even sleek black warships sailing the yellow and blue banners of Pandesia. The canals were bordered by cobblestone streets, ancient stone, worn smooth, being tread on by thousands of people in every manner of wardrobe. Alec saw knights, soldiers, civilians, traders, peasants, beggars, jugglers, merchants, farmers and many other folk, all mingling together. Many wore colors Marco had never seen, clearly visitors from across the sea, visitors from around the world who were visiting Ur, Escalon’s international port. Indeed, bright, foreign colors and insignias were flown by all the different ships cramming the canal, as if the whole world had come together at one place.
“The cliffs surrounding Escalon are so high, they are what keep our land impregnable,” Marco explained as they walked. “Ur has the only beach, the only harbor for large vessels wishing to beach. Escalon has other harbors, but none as easy to access. So when they wish to visit us, they all come here,” he added with a wave of his hand, looking out at all the people, all the ships.
“It is both a good and a bad thing,” he continued. “It brings us trade and commerce from all four corners of the kingdom.”
“And the bad?” Alec asked, as they squeezed their way through the crowd and Marco stopped to purchase a stick of meat.
“It leaves Ur prone to attack by sea,” he replied. “It is a natural spot for an invasion.”
Alec studied the city’s skyline in awe, taking in all the steeples, the endless array of tall buildings. He had never seen anything like it.
“And the towers?” he asked, looking up at a series of tall, square towers crowned with parapets, sticking up over the city and facing the sea.
“They were built to watch the sea,” Marco answered. “Against invasion. Though, with the weak King’s surrender, little good it did us.”
Alec wondered.
“And if he hadn’t surrendered?” Alec asked. “Could Ur fend off an attack by sea?”
Alec shrugged.
“I am no commander,” he said. “But I know we have ways. We could certainly fend off pirates and raiders. A fleet is another story. But in its thousand-year history, Ur has never fallen – and that tells you something.”
Distant bells tolled in the air as they continued walking, mingling with the sound of seagulls overhead, circling, squawking. As they pushed through the mobs, Alec found his stomach growling as he smelled all manner of food in the air. His eyes widened as they passed rows of merchant booths, all lined with goods. He saw exotic objects and delicacies he had never laid eyes upon before, and he marveled at this cosmopolitan city life. Everything was faster here, everyone in such a rush, the people bustling so quickly that he could barely take it all in before they passed him by. It made him realize what a small town he had come from.
Alec stared at a vendor selling the largest red fruits he had ever seen, and he reached into his pocket to buy one – when he felt his shoulder bumped hard from the side.
He spun to see a large man, older, towering over him, with a black scruffy beard, scowling down. He had a foreign face which Alec could not recognize, and he cursed in a language Alec did not understand. The man then shoved him, sending Alec, to his surprise, flying backwards into a stall, crashing down to the street.
“There’s no need for that,” Marco said, stepping forward and putting out a hand to stop the man.
But Alec, normally passive, felt a new sense of rage. It was an unfamiliar feeling, a rage smoldering inside him ever since the death of his family, a rage which needed an outlet. He could not control himself. He jumped to his feet and lunged forward, and, with a strength he didn’t know he had, punched the man in the face, knocking him back, sending him crashing over another stall.
Alec stood there, amazed that he had knocked down the much bigger man, while Marco stood beside him, wide-eyed, too.
A commotion erupted in the marketplace as the man’s oafish friends began to run over, while a group of Pandesian soldiers came running over from the other side of the square. Marco looked panicked, and Alec knew they were in a precarious position.
“This way!” Marco urged, grabbing Alec and yanking him roughly.
As the oaf gained his feet and the Pandesians closed in, Alec and Marco ran through the streets, Alec following his friend as he navigated this city he knew so well, taking shortcuts, weaving in and out between stalls and making sharp turns down alleyways. Alec could barely keep up with all the sharp zigzags. Yet when he turned and looked over his shoulder, he saw the large group closing in and knew they had a fight on their hands they could not win.
“Here!” Marco yelled.
Alec watched Marco jump off the edge of the canal, and without thinking he followed him, expecting to land in water.
He was surprised, though, not to hear a splash, and to instead find himself landing on a small stone ledge down at the bottom, one he
