Duna
Duna had never cared to see the inside of Khala Val’ur before, and she had never regretted it. But now, standing under the never-ending blackness of rock that encased the underground city, she was beginning to question that decision. She had been met by a pair of low-ranking guards who were her escort to see High Khyth Yetz, and they had taken her into the vast interior that the city was known for. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, and its enormity made her feel very small as she looked into its depths.
All of this hidden underground, she thought, yet still bigger than Ghal Thurái.
The Sunken City of Khala Val’ur was a burgeoning city, and its painstakingly designed streets and layout all had an order to them. When she first laid eyes on them, she had actually gasped. She was not expecting such an expanse below the surface—and it was absolutely expansive.
The “entrance” to the city was a tunnel that connected the world below to the one above; and at the bottom of this tunnel was the beginning of a long, spiraling rock staircase that looked as though it had been carved right out of the walls that made up the city. No doubt done with Breaking, Duna thought. Her eyes traced the path that went clear to the other side, and she noticed that the stairs ran the circumference of the city two whole times. It was like a staircase on the inside of a watch tower, only thousands of times more massive. Scanning the inside of the city from her vantage point at the top, she saw how truly great the city was.
And in the center, blazing and bright, was the ever-glowing fire that lit the city.
“That’s where you’ll be going,” said the guard, bearded and stocky, as he pointed at the conflagration. “High Khyth Yetz will be waiting.”
Duna had never met Yetz before, but she was sure there was a reason his own people feared him. The fact that General Tennech would abandon his army and flee the city, essentially exiling himself, rather than face the consequences of his failure to High Khyth Yetz was not lost on her. She wondered how much of the blame would be shifted to her.
***
The men of the Fist of Thurái had followed their Valurian counterparts into the barracks of the Sunken City. There, they would wait until Duna came back to retrieve them, but she knew it would be more than just a temporary situation. With Ghal Thurái in flames, they were now soldiers without a city. And, as their leader, Duna was now the general of the armies of Gal’dorok. Labels had no meaning anymore: Thurian, Valurian—they all now marched under the banner of the Hand.
“Through here,” the bearded soldier said.
After their long trek to the bottom of the city, Duna was almost relieved that their destination was in sight. They had been walking for what seemed like an eternity, and the spire that housed the High Khyth was now almost within reach.
The houses they passed were increasingly elaborate and well protected: metal gates in front with impenetrable doors and locks that looked to be just as much for show as for function. And in the center of all of it, the center of the city itself, waited Yetz.
***
As they approached, the guards were silent and seemed nervous, perhaps even fearful. They stood well clear of Duna as she approached the ornate door with a single knocker in the middle.
Despite knowing what the Khyth were capable of, Duna was not afraid. She knew they respected power more than anything, and Duna commanded power. She had looked power in the eye and stood her ground. She was ready.
She approached the door and grabbed the brass handle of the knocker.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The knocker rang out like thunder as it struck. The sound hung in her ears as she waited for a response.
Then, beyond the door, she heard a low voice that gave her chills.
“Ah, Duna. You have arrived,” it said. Reminding her of Kunas, it had a dead quality to it that was shared by all of those who had undergone the Breaking: somehow hollow, like a piece of it was missing—or had been removed. “How unfortunate.”
Duna swallowed. Hard.