The City of a Thousand Delights

    The group trudged through the trees, the village lost to sight somewhere behind them. Sean wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and looked at their guide.

    “You still haven’t told us exactly what this task of yours entails.”

    The man didn’t bother turning to answer. “It is a minor matter, suitable for ones such as yourselves to attend to. The details will be made clear once we have reached our destination.”

    Sean sighed, annoyed by the continuing deflection, and decided to change tack. “Of course, as you said earlier. Speaking of ‘you’, I don’t believe you’ve given us your name. What should we call you?”

    This did earn him a slight turn of the head, the man’s hand coming up to grasp his chin as he looked up in thought. “Aster.” He finally replied. “You may refer to me as Aster, Executor. It should be simple enough for you to remember, and it is inoffensive to my ears.”

    “Pleasure to officially make you acquaintance, Aster.” Sean replied. He considered reaching out for a handshake but thought better of it. “’Executor’ might be my official title in all of this, but I don’t see a need for formalities between allies. Now that we’re on a first name basis you can just call me Sean.”

    A sly smile crept onto Aster’s face. “Of course, Sean, as you wish. Prepare yourselves, we should be coming up on the transition point momentarily.”

    A short way through the brush and the party emerged into a clearing. The normally lush forest around Greenbough gave way to a circle of brown grass and bits of wood debris. A circle of mushrooms, black capped with bright white stalks, stood in the center of the dead space.

    Aster turned to them, quickly walking backwards towards the ring.

    “We have arrived at the transition point. We must move quickly into the ring and maintain momentum once we reach the other side. The energies of this place will not be kind to your wonderfully delicate flesh if we stay overlong.” He looked them over. “Are all of you prepared?”

    Sean, Flick, and Corvane all gave an affirmative, receiving a nod from Aster in return.

    “Good. Now run.”

    He turned and set a brisk pace towards the mushroom ring. Following him, Sean noticed that here and there were bits of ivory bone poking out through the dead turf. In contrast the mushrooms themselves looked pristine, with no sign of decay or predation. He almost didn’t notice the slight shimmer as his foot passed the plane of the mushroom ring, but the resulting change would have been impossible to miss.

    Instead of dead vegetation Sean’s foot landed on hard cobblestone. He almost stumbled, expecting the give of grass rather than a firm surface, but he managed to keep his feet beneath him as Aster led them from the ring. They had arrived in a large stone room.

    “Continue to the edge of the chamber.” Aster directed. “Once you are there, you may pause briefly before I lead you into the city proper.”

    The three travelers followed his instruction, coming to a stop at a large archway on the edge of the room. The opening shimmered in similar way to the arch, its rainbow hues obscuring vision to the outside.

    Flick doubled over, her back heaving as she sucked in air. Sean moved over and knelt down next to her.

    “Is everything alright?” He asked.

    “Give me a moment, lad.” She choked out. “The dread I had when Aster came to Greenbough, it’s worse here. I can push it down now that I know where it’s coming from, but it still feels like I’m walking myself willingly into a slaughterhouse.”

    Aster looked at the woman with vague disinterest. “Fear is often the first reaction visitors to our great realm have. There are many theories as to why, but little proof. My own is that even here, in these modest arrival chambers, outsiders can sense their crushing insignificance in comparison to its grandeur.”

    Sean looked up at the other man, trying to keep a scowl off of his face. “And what is this realm of yours called, Aster?” He asked, changing the subject.

    “Thairis” he answered, sweeping his arm out theatrically. Sean was interested to note that for the first time their host was showing a glimmer of emotion. “The City of a Thousand Delights. Anything one needs or desires can be found here, no matter what – or who – that might be. Its borders stretch even beyond the limit of imagination.” Aster’s attention turned back to Flick. “When your retainer has composed herself, I will take you to what you will need; lodgings.”

    “Aye, aye, I’m fine. Let’s go.” Flick mumbled, forcing herself upright.

    Aster nodded and swept out through the archway. Sean followed, hesitating briefly at the swirling portal, but made himself to keep going. As he passed through the light he felt a slight burning tingle all over his body. Every cut and abrasion he’d picked up in the last few hours of travel stung as if he were being hit with a spritz bottle full of rubbing alcohol, but he barely even registered the feeling.

    In his life on Earth, Sean had been passingly familiar with the concept of Irish fairies. Closer to traditional fantasy elves than Tinkerbell, they were tall, beautiful, dangerous, and beyond all else, fickle.

    They had their own fairy realm where they would bring the unlucky, a verdant paradise for its native inhabitants and a dense green hell for their victims. Sean had, more or less, expected Thairis to be a city built in the boughs of some massive, primeval forest.

    Stepping out through the gate, he found that none of this preconceived notion was true. The four certainly stood in the middle of a forest, but they were surrounded by trees of a completely different sort. Rooted in the slums surrounding the group, towers rose into the sky like blackened redwoods. As their layers ascended towards the sky they began to glitter, until they disappeared into a roiling smog that filtered the light streaming into the alleys an unhealthy grey.

    For as far as Sean could see, the city teemed with bodies. Each was hooded and cloaked in the same dun color as the clouds, their hunched figures scuttling down alleys and across the walkways that spiderwebbed their way between buildings. It reminded him of the time he’d visited Time’s Square with his parents, except it was twice as busy and horribly silent.

    Sean tried to take a deep breath, but the pervasive murk burned his throat. He began to cough, leaning on his spear for support.

    Aster looked at him and nodded. “Indeed, the lower levels are not fit for inhabitation. Follow me quickly and I will lead you to your quarters.”

    Their journey up and into the tower spires was a blur to Sean. At some point Flick helped him into a lift that must have risen to one of the upper levels, but he wasn’t sure exactly how high. When they reached their destination, Aster opened the door to allow them inside.

    “I will return in an hour with an attendant.” He said, seemingly unconcerned with Sean’s condition. “We will then discuss the service owed and the payment offered.”

    “Alright,” Sean croaked, “See you in an hour then.”

    Flick bundled him inside the room and swiftly shut the door. He collapsed on a bed that looked and felt like a gaint marshmallow. Sean watched as she went over to a small cistern and returned to him with a damp cloth, wiping his brow.

    “Ladies! Lad, you’re a right mess.” She said. “Now that we’re out of that haze, hopefully you’ll get better, aye?”

    “Yeah, I’m sure it’s just the smog down there.” He rationalized. “Give me a few minutes an-”

    Sean snatched the cloth from Flick’s hands, holding it to cover his mouth as he fell into another coughing fit. When the fit subsided, he went to hand back to her and stopped dead.

    “Oh…” he said, a bit lightheadedly, “that’s probably not good.” He held up the red stained cloth to Corvane. “What do you make of that?”

    The raven studied the cloth, leaning closely, beak twitching back and forth.

    With a sharp caw, he snatched it from Sean’s hand and flew onto a shelf above the bed. His rhythmic cries echoed through the room.

    Sean looked at Flick, who returned his wide-eyed stare. They both turned in unison towards the feral raven, who was completely ignoring them in favor of its prize. It was already pecking a hole in the blood spot. In its glossy black eyes, Corvane, Advisor to the King, was nowhere to be found.