CHAPTER 8
DAVINA
One month ago
IF THERE WAS EVER AN ANTITHESIS OF WHAT LITTLE I WAS ABLE TO SEE OF THE KObrANT CAPITAL WITH ITS QUIET, dirt-packed streets and low, simple constructions scattered through what must once have been a dense jungle, it would be Kipiramida.
Built on the edge of a sprawling lake of turquoise water and surrounded by the burnt-orange sands that made up most of the Kobrant mainland, the city rose to one end in sharp contrast. Compact and mostly vertical, its buildings ranged from three to ten levels high.
Taller than anything I’d seen even in The Paragon.
Smooth sandstone avenues offered even ground for pedestrians, animals, and ground-pods alike.
On our other side, sprawling manors presided over large fenced plots lined with multi-colored tiles and fountains. A tall wall extended on either side of the tower we were currently on, dividing the impossibly different sides of the city.
But what really took my breath away wasn’t the distinct city, itself, but what had given it name.
At the city’s northernmost edge stretched a massive esplanade, kept bare of any modern structures.
At its heart, four massive pyramids of smooth black stone rose from the ground, identical in size and shape, placed in the corners of an invisible square.
Against the immaculate blue of the sky, and the golden hue of the surrounding desert, they didn’t look like they belonged to this world.
“They were built over a millennia ago.”
I turned to find Sergeant Kwabena Yaa, the captain’s colleague and the second Kobrant representative assigned to this mission, standing beside me.
His skin was dark and smooth, but the faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes suggested he must have been well over fifty.
Shoulder-length braided locs spilled from beneath a leather topper that had clearly seen many years of service.
Long and lean, he was almost as tall as the captain, but the slight angling towards the cane in his hand stole a few inches from him.
I’d scanned his leg for signs of the injury that made him need support, but it was hidden beneath his long, flared pants.
His gaze, too, was locked on the pyramids.
The southern morning sun beat down without mercy, but gusts of dry wind offered some reprieve from the heat. Tendrils from my hair whipped around my cheeks, and my cream-colored overskirt billowed like a sail catching a gust.
We stood atop one of the tallest buildings, where the podport had been erected. As was common practice, four tall steel beams marked its corners.
When sap was first discovered, it was obvious that an ability such as psychokinesis would revolutionize human transport.
But after a dozen major accidents and at least three hundred registered casualties, it became clear that free-flight was not the way to go.
There was no way to regulate how or where psychokinetics moved in the air, no way to prevent them from crashing against each other or even against the ground.
Then metallokinesis was found, and that changed everything. Metallokinetics could feel nearby metal, making it possible to sense other pods, hence avoiding collisions. They could also locate pod stations by the four steel pillars that marked them—like the ones framing the platform we stood on.
“It is said that four brothers born of the same man, a king of this land, refused to uphold the tradition of dueling to the death for the throne,” the sergeant said, his voice a deep rumble, as if pulled from the ocean’s darkest trench.
His accent was gentler than the captain’s, lilting and melodic.
“Instead, they shared power equally, entering a reign of harmony that saw this city prospering. If the records are to be believed, they ruled for nearly fifty years without conflict or hunger. The city grew and advances were made that allowed for more food to be produced to sustain the increasing population.”
Despite my wariness at the proximity of the man I had yet to officially interact with, I felt a smile pull at my lips. There was something comforting in the way he spoke. Old and steady, almost fatherly.
Or what I imagined that to sound like, anyway.
“Must have been nice.”
“I bet it was,” he said with a faint smile of his own.
Silence stretched for a few seconds, but I was curious to know more. “And what’s the story behind the pyramids, specifically?”
“When their health started to decline with old age, the four kings chose to build the pyramids as a reminder that unity can lead to a greater prosperity for all. The same amount of stone was extracted from the lakebed for each. Identical in height, volume, and external shape.” He paused briefly, gaze fixed on the towering silhouettes in the distance.
“It is said, though, that their interiors are each unique. A reflection of the different minds that shaped them. And supposedly, each holds a treasure of equal value buried deep within. No one knows for sure. It is said that the inner structures are riddled with traps, dead ends, and labyrinths so complex that there are no records of anyone ever returning once they’ve gone inside. ”
Sounded like a tale for children to me.
My attention fell on the magnificent constructions once again.
I tried and failed to wrap my head around their creation.
They were majestic, otherworldly, built by people who lived over a thousand years ago.
People who had no knowledge of the sap and the abilities it granted.
People with no advanced tools or infrastructure to mine a lakebed, let alone lift those massive stones hundreds of feet into the air.
It seemed impossible.
“The four kings instructed their children to follow their example.”
I turned slightly, studying the stern profile of the Kobrant sergeant standing beside me.
Armand and the captain had gone into the podport office to register our arrival, and I had chosen to remain outside to start familiarizing myself with the city’s layout.
Now I found myself unexpectedly drawn into Kwabena’s quiet storytelling.
His outfit was striking—straight, pocketless pants, and a light shirt with buffed sleeves ending just below the elbow. On the exposed skin of his forearm, white, shimmering lines were shaped into a similar pattern to the captain’s.
Both of them are psychokinetics, I realized. An interesting choice of assets on the Kobrant side.
Kwabena’s left hand rested lightly on the wooden cane topped with a cobra’s metallic head.
His demeanor was stoic, but it resonated with something in me.
I didn’t trust him, but for a first real exchange, the sergeant didn’t seem terrible to work with.
In fact, to my own surprise, I felt at ease listening to him.
“Did they?” I asked, referring to the four kings’ successors.
Kwabena dipped his chin. “They did, if registries are to be believed. But the tradition ended two generations later. The heirs meant to rule together chose instead to fight for the throne, reinstating the old tradition.”
Ah, humanity.
“It must have been a great time to exist while it lasted.”
Kwabena tilted his head slightly toward me. A wistful smile curved his lips. “That, it must have been, Centurion Lachlan.”
Before I had the chance to say anything else, a voice called from behind.
“All set.”
Kwabena and I turned to see the captain and Armand approaching.
Zephyr Kentar held a stack of papers in one hand, his eyes scanning the fresh stamps glinting under the harsh morning sun.
His outfit was similar to the one he wore the previous night, except for the fact that he had added a black vest lined with even more pockets than his pants had, as well as various straps and cinches to adjust and attach diverse items. Weapons, mostly.
I glanced at Armand trailing just behind him.
He wore a blue linen shirt and brown leather pants he had to be sweltering in.
Twin shoulder straps crossed over his chest to hold holsters strapped with every weapon we’d managed to reclaim upon leaving the army’s compound.
A long leather coat, folded over his bag, matched the rest of his gear.
Why he thought bringing a dark coat into the desert was a good idea was beyond me, but I also didn’t particularly care about his comfort, so I kept my observations to myself and focused on staying alert.
“We’re about to be led into our accommodation for the duration of the stay here,” the captain announced, drawing my attention back to him as I adjusted the lighter pack slung over my shoulder. “A guide will meet us on the street.”
Without further comment, we followed him to a thin platform built into the side of the building.
As soon as all four of us stepped onto it, it began to descend.
I glanced down to see which of the two Kobrants was powering it, zeroing on Zephyr’s extended fingers.
Judging by his calm expression, lowering a loaded platform took barely any effort for him.
As the elevator descended, I once again noticed the disparity on either side of the wall that split the city in half.
One side was magnificent, the houses large and luxurious, the ample, long streets almost empty and clean of any litter, with large patches of shadows created by fabric hung over wooden posts.
The other side, though . . . pure mayhem.
The packed sandstone roads were a tangle of carts, dirt, camels, pods, and pedestrians, all competing for space. A cacophony of noise rose from it all, almost deafening even from the distance. Wherever I looked, I saw people wearing rags hanging on by a thread and dirt on skin.
How could it be? I was not unfamiliar with the concept of neighborhoods, but I’d never seen or heard of a city having such an abysmal difference in wealth between two areas. Perhaps the fall of sap extraction rate was worse here than in Widesight.