Rendwroth: City of the Forgotten, Chapter 1

Siqarn was thirsty. This was not uncommon; Siqarn was always thirsty. It was the way of things. He had learned long ago he could never cease his thirst, but that that did not he had to be happy about it.

Siqarn shifted a little in his perch on the turrets above the gates of Rendwroth, irritated by the prickling heat. Sweat dribbled down his face as the sun seared down upon the city. He tried to get more comfortable in his patch of shade provided by a gargoyle high above him poking out from one of the towers above the gates.

Just then a bell rang over the city, once, twice, thrice, four times. It was the Hour of the Greater Sun. The Cult of Heliad would be gathering at the Public Square in Citizen's Park to pray to their Sun God and give thanks to Heliad for not letting the sun fall out of the sky...or something like that. Siqarn was not of the religous inclination. To him, the Hour of the Greater Sun simply meant break for a meal.

Siqarn rose, ran along the turrent, then jumped down through a pothole to the crumbling second level. In truth, the gates, the turrets, the whole city was crumbling, but the second level looked like it may collapse at any minute.

That did not however, stop Siqarn from nimbly picking his way through the pitfalls, weak spots, and occasional nest of adders or wandering scorpion with ease. He stopped at an arrow slit, originally too small for him to fit through, but centuries of decay had widened the gap. Grabbing two handholds left over from elaborate decorations made a millenia ago, he lowered his body and then let go, dropping his body ten feet onto the first level.

He passed his pair of Kunjaii. Both were crouched, clutching their bows. He leaned down in front of Tokean. At least, he thought it was Tokean. He had a good deal of trouble keeping these savages apart. "Tokean, my friend, how are you doing today?" Tokean glared at him sullenly. "Is that so? Look, I'm a little more hungry than usual today. Do you mind if I have your share of the taron? You can keep the sigunet." Tokean did not move, did not blink, did not speak. "You seem a little quiet today. Are you ill? I'll tell you what. If you agree, say nothing." Tokean said nothing, and never would say anything. Both he and his twin Fondor had had their tongues cut out at the age of four, and begun training with their weapons the day afterwards. Siqarn enjoyed tormenting them on a daily basis.

Siqarn finally reached his pack. From inside he grabbed a taron root and, with slight trepidation, his bottle of sigunet. He gnawed on the tough and gnarly root slowly, not because he enjoyed the taste or the texture, but because he dreaded what came after he ate. After the taron root he sighed, grabbed the bottle of sigunet, and drank it all, wincing at the horribly bitter and acidic tast. Some said the affects of drinking sigunet were lessened by drinking it over a period of time. Siqarn preferred getting the terrible ordeal over with. As soon as he drank the sigunet, a wave of nausea and dizziness struck him as his insides seemed to clench. This only lasted for a few moments, however. After that, Siqarn felt his throat dry up even more, and though he almost did not think it possible, he once again got thirstier.

With a sigh he packed away his sigunet and prepared for a long afternoon standing watch over the gates, being even thirstier than he was before. It was then that a voice-a young voice-called from beyond the gates.

"Open up! I wish to enter! Open up I say!"

With the job of gatekeeper, one would imagine Siqarn would spend a lot of time tending the gates. But travelers to Rendwroth were rare. Siqarn spent most of his time perched in his various nooks and crannies, simply observing the dust and winds of the desert outside. Someone wishing to enter the city was a special event indeed.

After motioning to the Kunjaii to open the gates, he scuttered to them. The gates of Rendwroth were massive, and had survived countless sieges. As the gates opened, Siqarn stepped out of the city, and observed the travelers. They were young, surprisingly young to brave the desert alone. A camel pulled a cart, no doubt laden with supplies. Siqarn put on his best crooked smile and greeted the travelers.

"Good Hour to you gentlemen, my lady. Welcome to Rendwroth, City of the Forgotten, the Finalt City, the Last Vestige of Civilization. What brings you to the Gates?

"I already told you," said the apparent leader of the party, the young man who had spoken earlier. He had wavy black hair, a handsome look, and was dressed in the garb of the nomads. "I wish to enter the city."

"Are you prepared to pay the Gatekeepers toll?"

"We have gold. Take whaever is necessary to get us in."

"Oooh...why the rush?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Oh but it is. You see the gatekeeper can name his price. And, if you wish to survive within the city, you should really know that gold is useless. Only three things are of value: supplies, information, and favors. And I will have all three from you before you enter the city."

The leader was getting testy. "Why should I play your game?"

"Ever heard of the Kunjaii my boy?"

"The Savage Nomads from the Southern Isles?"

"Yes. They are trained from birth in a particular weapon. Kunjaii trained in archery can shoot an arrow through someone's eye from 300 paces blindfolded."

"So?"

"You really are slow aren't you? They're are two Kunjaii with their bows aimed at you right now."

The male companion put his hand on the leader's shoulder. "What do you want."

"I want your supplies from that cart. All of them."

The leader looked uneasily at the others. The female said, "Done."

"I want to know your names, your tribes, and your purpose here. And if you so much as think about lying, remember the 300 paces."

"I'm Cortan, this is Rezon and this is Lierton. We're from the Tribe of the Blazing Sun. And our purpose here is...is...to find our father and kill him," said the leader.

"Well that's interesting," mused the Gatekeeper. It could be used as leverage later. "Now do me a favor, Cortan."

"What?"

"Step a little to the left."

Cortan did...and the Gatekeeper made the signal. The Kunjaii fired, and Rezon and Lierton dropped like stones, arrows through their eyes. Cortan screamed in horror. "What have you done? They're dead!"

"No worries, I'll dispense of the bodies. Now unless you want an arrow through the eye too, I suggest you put on this blindfold and follow me."

"But why? Why?"

Siqarn sighed. This was all routine, yet the pitiful cries of the anguished alway annoyed him. "Its policy. We cannot have more than one person enter the city at a time. Food is low both in the desert and in Rendwroth, you know."

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Siqarn was back in his perch, quite annoyed. The fool youth had sobbed and moaned the entire trip through the Maze and into the city. Did he not know killing was the way of life in Rendwroth? The lad had said he had come to kill his father. Still, Siqarn had been that way once, young and idealistic. But that was all before. Siqarn did not care for his younger self, he pitied and hated the teenage boy he had been. Once he had trusted, just like Cortan. But trust was dead in Rendwroth, and so was that teenage boy.

"Open the gates. Let me through." A voice, a husky voice, almost a whisper, it nevertheless echoed up to the Gatekeeper, who had been so lost in thought he had failed to see the figure in black standing at the gate. The figure was literally surrounded by darkness, like his cloak was sucking in the sun.

A second traveler? Something was different. There were never two travelers in one day. Siqarn hated unusual occurences, espescially unexplained ones.

Once the gates were opened, the Gatekeeper greeted the figure. He could not seem to get a good look at the traveler's face, even the part not obscured by the hood. It seemed to flicker, almost, like something out of the corner of one's eye. Siqarn dismissed it as a trick of the sun.

"Good Hour to you, and welcome to Rendwroth, City of the Forgotten, the Las-"

"Open the Gates. Let me through," repeated the cloaked figure in his small voice.

"Not until you pay the Gatekeeper's price. Supplies, Information, and a Favor."

"I pay nothing."

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I pay nothing. Now open the gates. Let me through."

The Gatekeeper made the motion, and the Kunjaii fired. The cloaked figure stood, unmoving, then raised his hands and caught both arrows in midair. Siqarn gaped.

"Who are you?"

"Who am I? Look. Look." The shadowy figure removed his hood, and Siqarn was gripped by sheer terror, utter horror, complete fear. He saw in the traveler's face...he saw...but the traveler had already replaced the hood, and Siqarn did not remember what he saw. He just remembered the fear, and he knew, he knew he had to give this person what he wanted, or he would remove the hood again.

"Y-yy-you can come in."

The cloaked traveler walked past Siqarn and entered the Maze.

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"Good Hour? Good Hour?" Somebody was waving their hand in front of Siqarn's face. He did not know how much time had passed after the cloaked figure had left. In front of him was another cloaked figure, this one in blue. Siqarn was surprised to find himself on the ground. Apparently he had fainted. He quickly stood up, tried to regain his senses, and appear dignified and intimidating.

"Welcome to Rendwroth, the City of the Forgotten, the-"

"Yes, I know the titles," said the traveler. "My name is Hillwin the Vandar. Who are you?"

"I am the Gatekeeper. Now, what brings you to..."

"No, I meant what is your name?"

"Siqarn. And I will ask the questions."

"Of course Siqarn. Nice to meet you."

"What brings you to the Gates of Rendwroth?"

"I am seeking water. I believe Rendwroth contains a source that will be able to satisfy everybody."

Despite everything he had been through that day, Siqarn could not help but burst into laughter. Hillwin stood patiently.

"You're looking for water? There's nothing but a few drops in the entire city. All that's left is Sigunet."

"Ah yes, that terrible stuff that just makes you thirstier. What if I told you I had water already?"

"Look this is no longer funny. I suggest you start paying up or my Kunjaii will kill you."

But Hillwin was reaching in his pocket, and produced a vial full of clear, brillant, water, more than Siqarn had seen in his life. For the second time that day Siqarn stood motionless. The thirst was overcoming him. He briefly considered having the Kunjaii shoot Hillwin, but they might already be contemplating shooingt him and grabbing the water for themselves. Water would turn slaves upon their masters. And it would do more, it would start revolutions, it would turn brother against brother at knifepoint.

Then Hillwin the Vandar poured out the vial of water, and the sand soaked it in. And for the second time that day Siqarn stood in horror.

"You've just poured out a fortune!"

"And why would I do that? Let's think."

"Because you're an idiot scumbag, that's why!"

"Why would I toss water away unless I was absolutely certain that there was more, and close? Think Siqarn, you want me to enter Rendwroth, and you want me to find the water. Kill me now, and you will just get thirstier and thirstier until the day you die."

Siqarn did think. And without saying a word, he motioned Hillwin the Vandar to put on the blindfold and then guided him through the Maze.

And so it was that three of the most dangerous figures in history entered Rendwroth, City of the Forgotten, the Final City, the Last Vestige of Civilization.