Chapter 59
It was astonishing, the contrast between Ramel and Jebel.
It was as if the two Lands were deliberately built in juxtaposition to each other, just to create a wonderfully diverging scene.
Ramel always seemed to radiate that yellowish-brown hue.
If you paid little attention, you would notice that there was always a dune, a mesa, a building, or a floor with some shade of yellow or brown.
Even the sky at times appeared hued, with the bright sun reflecting the jagged horizon in amber.
Whereas Jebel’s tones—whether grey, brown, or maroon—seemed a shade or two shy from being called black.
Jebel was…beautifully gloomy. The canyons, the stacked buildings, even the people were dark. A good number were Earth Wielders, and they utilised their abilities well.
Similar to the Rameli’s, the Jebeli’s powers were not inherited through bloodlines but were selectively gifted by their god, Jeb. However, unlike his brother Amfir, Jeb had continued blessing adolescents with the ability to wield earth and rock.
I wondered what made Amfir stop.
From what I’d gathered from maps, surrounding Jebel was a protective wall of earthen-wielded canyons—an extension of those on the coast of Ramel—that ran along the Brim Sea and ended where the swamp started.
From where I now stood, I could see that surrounding Troiya were magnificent rocky mountains and towering buildings stacked on top of each other, some of them as tall as trees.
Deep down beneath our feet were the transport routes.
An underground connection system, similar to the waterways.
However, these required a trail of Earth Wielders pushing a long line of adjoined massive rock carts from one place to another.
This belowground network—where people, food, and goods were transported back and forth between both Sijar and Ramel—was Jebel’s main source of revenue generation.
The attack on Ilma was a double-edged sword for the Jebeli.
Their profit from the transport routes increased significantly since the waterways were out of order until further notice, however, the Fount was just as depleted as the Wellspring Oasis was.
Though at least it rained sometimes in Jebel, whereas in Ramel, the only storms I had witnessed were mostly made of sand.
Macy gave us both a hug before joining her mother and her little sister, who yelled her name and ran towards her as soon as they glimpsed her.
I tapped my foot, often huffing, while Marshen and I queued in the long line for the ticket stall.
I was in dire need of a bath, but figured it could wait, considering that the line that went directly from Troiya and ended at the borders of Gaiya and Myrkvein left only once a week.
It would be unwise to miss an opportunity that led us directly to Sijar in the short span of twelve hours.
My brows furrowed at the commotion that erupted around us. People cursed, reluctantly scattering away.
“What’s happening?” I asked anyone.
A man carrying a small child turned our way and said, “The line is full. They stopped selling tickets.”
Shit.
“We’re fucked,” I said.
But Marshen snatched me by my elbow and made me follow him behind an unoccupied stand. “Look,” he said, pointing towards the ticket stall.
“Are you planning that we steal the tickets?”
“No, not yet. I think you should go talk to him.”
My brows knitted. “Huh?”
Then I realised that Marshen was not pointing towards the ticket stand, but towards the young man behind it. I doubted he was older than eighteen.
“And tell him what? Perhaps I should tell him that I lost someone dear and that I need to go to some ceremony.”
“Mmm…Delia, look at him. Does he strike you as the empathetic type?”
He did not. In fact, I noticed that he was drooling over a group of young ladies. They laughed and giggled as they passed a bottle of red wine, taking small sips in turns.
“You see now. I think he’s more interested in tits and ass. It’s time to shine, Delia.”
“I am very much shining, Marshen. I have a three-day layer of sticky sweat all over my body,” I replied flatly.
“Do you want the tickets or not?”
“Fine.” I exhaled.
I loosened my milkmaid braids and set my hair free, running my fingers through each lock.
My hair reached my lower back in twisted cascading waves, a reminder of its tight plates.
As I swayed my head right to left, Marshen let out a long whistle followed by a “yeesh.” I unbuttoned the two top buttons of my shirt and sauntered towards the young man.
I leaned over the stand, exposing my bustline, and cleared my throat.
Once I got the young man’s attention, I gestured with my finger for him to come closer.
I traced my fingers along his arm, just like the heavy-breasted waitress had done to Aegir.
Then I leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “I will pay you well for two of those tickets.” I bet Daekon was grinning as he watched me perform my seductive attempts.
“Sorry, lady, the line is full.” The young man removed his arm and moved aside.
I disappointedly watched him getting back to ogling the same group of ladies. But as I traced his stare, I noticed that he was not drooling over the women. His gaze was aimed at a shirtless and chiselled blond man.
I made my way back with pursed lips.
“Don’t feel too bad,” Marshen teased. “For what it’s worth, I would have given you the tickets.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, I am not feeling bad at all. And that is because my looks are not the problem here. He is not interested in ladies—look.”
Marshen peeked his head and let out a “huh,” then shifted his gaze, only to meet my wide grin.
“Your turn, Grandpa.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Marshen grumbled something beneath his breath as he took off his shirt, showing off that glowing pale Fae skin of his. I snorted.
“Give me that,” he said, snatching my hair band from my wrist. He bound half of his hair up, revealing his tapered ears.
Not bad at all, I thought. I admit, Marshen was easy on the eyes.
He had a well-built physique and a beautiful face with platinum hair and celeste eyes.
The young man must have thought so, too.
Marshen returned, two tickets in hand. I wished to bounce and screech, but held all of it inside, lest I attract attention.
“The ticket boy is going to be heartbroken when I stand him up this Sunday. I promised I would take him out to watch the stars.”
“That’s just cruel.”
“I felt like I had to add a little dash of romance there. Besides, don’t you want these?”
I seized the tickets. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” I urged.
Saying that the cartway line was full was an understatement.
It was overwhelmingly packed, and I could not seem to breathe properly.
I held Marshen’s tunic in a tight fist as he pushed through the crowd.
We moved from one crammed roofless carriage to the other until we found ourselves in a cart occupied solely by crates and boxes.
The thought of not having to share my breath with anyone other than Marshen allowed me to catch it, and I took one deep inhale after the other. Finally.
Marshen gave me boosts to help me climb on top of the stacked and locked crates.
The smell of cumin and saffron told me that they were filled with Rameli spices.
We sat up there, away from everyone. My gaze lifted towards the high ceiling.
It felt strange, the darkness of it. Though, to my surprise, I found myself embracing some part of it.
Moving at high speed through smooth-surfaced rock felt surreal. The soft lights emitted from the wall-mounted torches appeared as a straight bright line as we glided across Jebel.
I rested my head against Marshen’s shoulder, and as my eyelids grew heavy, I imagined all those Earth Wielders, their dark skin gleaming with sweat as they pushed one cart after the other along the northern line.