Two Halves: chapter 10

chapter 10 of two halves

The last time Nicolas had been in the city he certainly hadn’t been able to enjoy the sights. Not the great feats of industry and architecture that inhabited the surface of the bleak landscape above, but the real sights of the underworld below.

 

Outside of the window passed many sights he was astounded by. He had to restrain himself from pressing his face to the pane in a attempt to get a few more glimpses of the landscape. There were great hollows where the metal works had rusted out. Their vaulted ceiling hanging with columns of the red substance.

 

Ancient lakes of petrol had collected slowly over the city’s hundred or so years of existence. Off set by islands of garbage, sticking up from the black water. Every so often they would pass small fires on the islands, and small shacks or even villages of people long forgotten in the muck.

 

The area inside the city was huge. It couldn’t rightfully be called a city, not anymore. It was a landscape, it was a wilderness, it was a world unto itself. The ancient sights they passed were indeed beautiful, and both he and Zeckle seemed to be fascinated by them. Bestalel had not moved. Once in a while he would glance out the window, but not as a way of looking at the landscape. Instead he seemed to be counting. Seeing landmarks in the splendid scenery. He was looking for signs of the distance they were traversing. Eventually he said.

 

“Sir, we shall arrive at the stop in a few moments. This is one of the less desirable parts of the city. Very gang heavy. I will act as your protection, but I cannot be everywhere. I need you to be alert, and be ready to use your flute at the slightest sign of trouble.” Bestalel spoke nervously. He was concerned about this part of the city.

 

“Ok, I shall continue to keep Zeckle out, and I shall keep several other Battle imps out, but hidden.” Nicolas took the flute from his pocket. He was glad it was one of the collapsible ones. They were so convenient for on the go use. He pulled the ends into place and locked it into position. The people around him tried to edge away into the dark recesses of the train compartment. They were probably not used to open displays of magic down here. At least none that didn’t end in violence.

 

Though down here magic was far more widely accepted and used, but it was considered polite to do it in private unless absolutely necessary. Indeed several of the people in the compartment glowed with the slight sheen of concealed demons. Only those with the trained eye could see the silvery light around peoples eyes showed that they were exerting the tiniest piece of magic in order to keep the demon’s connection to the mortal plain. Some were also wearing binding ruins around their necks or concealed in other pieces of jewelry. They pulsed with barely contained magic, ready to rip an infernal creature into this existence at a moment’s notice.

 

He blew a soothing tune along the flute. Several level-two flame imps came out of the flutes opening, but unseen. Instead of taking the flashier balls of multi-colored fire they took on unseen forms. Just formless essence came from the flute. They would be completely translucent and undetectable for all those of less than astounding perception capabilities.

 

The train slid into the station and the people around him relaxed. They probably feared him as a manic or a terrorist ready to enact some plan. Crashing this train would have caused more than simply their deaths. It might cause an enormous section of the metal works within the city collapse, and possibly even fall into the abyss miles below. No one who had ever fallen into abyss returned. 

 

The greasy doors of the train opened with a squealing wrenching noise. This thing was not in the best repair, and the farther down you went the older things became. People never replaced anything here. They simply created basements and built higher.

 

The station was nicer than the one near the docks. Everything became better kept as you approached the center of the metropolis. Though it was still rusted it gleamed with a persistent sheen of some janitor fighting a losing battle. They exited the train and walked through the station.

 

Many stalls were open here, selling all kinds of contraband from both worlds. They included pictures showing exotic women with strange body-mods, to the latest and greatest E-motions. They exited the station to find that the stalls were just the start. The plaza amazed Nicolas. The old materials had long since rusted out from the stress. New things had been patched on here and there. Everything from sheet metal to high strain carbon fiber held together the multi-layered plaza.

 

They were on the top floor, and the market extended for maybe fifteen stories downward. Bestalel walked confidently through the anarchy. He knew his way around. Some of the owners of the larger shops got glimpses of him and gasped. They hurriedly put away goods, and stashed various items under counters.

 

They eventually made there way to a less crowded section. In front of them was a Neon sign flashing the smile of a cat. Its grin was manic, but caught your attention. The pattern of its teeth spelled out “The Cat’s Hotel”. It looked to be a fairly popular place. Laughter spilled out from the bar inside, and the hotel rooms on the floor above flashed with lights and far more private noises.

 

Bestalel entered and immediately took a right, away from the bar. They walked to a counter where a young and attractive looking woman stood with a bright smile, but her eyes were glazed over. This was a conditioned position; she simply slid into this persona because it was convenient for her job.

 

“Hello, I’m Heather. How may I help you?” She said in a falsely cheerful voice. She probably had to put up this façade in order to keep safe. Places like this couldn’t afford bullet proof glass, and some of the more aggressive gangs would have taken it as a insult anyway.

 

“I need you to give my friend a room, with accommodations enough for two people. Show him to his room, and also he is new to the town. I am hiring you to be his guide if he wishes to go out into the market.” Bestalel spoke this and handed over enough money for the room. They he reaches again into his pocket and retrieved several more, larger bills and handed to the girl. Her eyes shone with excitement. The he turned around and began to walk away.

 

“Where are you going?” Nicolas called after him.

 

“I will be meeting some old friends. It would be dangerous for me to bring a outsider along. Feel free to see the sights while I am gone. I expect to be back before tomorrow, probably.” He said as he exited. Nicolas slumped defeated.

 

“That’s tough. Him just ditchin you like dat” said Zeckle on his shoulder as Heather led them up the stairs.

 

“Yeah, yeah it is…” replied Nicolas.

 

 

Author's Note

sorry for releasing so late today, but I had a track meet so I had to write late.

Reviews

[Deaths Cold Kiss]

excellent description, love it , please keep writing :) ... its ok, if you released it a little lata, as long as i get to read it!!!:)

[Miss Coral]

Great descriptions.. I'm glad to hear that I'm not the only one that thinks that abandoned machinery and buildings are fascinating and beautiful. :)
Overall, really liked this chapter- they keep improving with each one.. there were some typos and things like that though:

"Ancient lakes of petrol that had collected slowly over the city’s hundred some odd years of existence. Off set by islands of garbage, sticking up from the black water."
*calming?
* fell to fallen
*farther
*goods

Nice job!!!

[Dutch Jr.]

Keep writing. It seems as though you took heed of the comments we made on your earlier chapters, and you're incorporating more description. Nice work.

[James Watts]

A few typos, but nothing major. The story is progressing along at a nice pace.