Xaliber City part 2

Xaliber City part 2

"Come on, Nyloh! We're never going to get there like this! Hurry up!"

A light, chirping voice rose above the dull drone of pedestrian traffic in the underground. Each muffled sound echoed through the long tunnels, its contents mixing with other noises to form a musty, saturated ambience cocktail. Clumps of people in cool-weather clothes passed by a frail girl in her mid teens. She bounced and skipped her way to the empty spots between them, her violet eyes sparkling with mirth. They took little notice as she sprung forward and tossed a glance over her shoulder, nearly bumping into a group on her left. The man she'd been complaining to, Nyloh, raised an eyebrow at her.

"Slow down, Mithy. It's not gonna get up and walk away," he said.

Nyloh was a young man just starting his twenties. He wore a backpack over a dusty-blue poncho, thick cloth pants and a pair of leather boots, all of which had seen better days. His eyes were round and colored a warm gray. His hair was sable and fell to his shoulders. His long bangs spilled over a wide headband. In his arms was a box piled high with junk—the day’s cargo meant for the trading post up ahead.

Mith tossed him a fake pout. “Yes it will,” she whined. Her pale blonde ponytail tumbled forward as she tilted her head down and frowned deeply.

Nyloh raised an eyebrow at her hammy display and ambled up to her at a slow pace. She giggled impishly when he reached her, but her face quickly gained a look of dread when he slipped the backpack off his shoulder and handed it to her.

"If you're in such a hurry, take this and go sell it," he said.

Mith's face contorted as she peered inside the bag. "Eeww, that old grinder thing?"

Nyloh nodded. "Yep. Still can't get rid of it. If we don't drop it this time, I'm tossing it," he said, a knowing smile spreading across his face. "Now go on. Go find it a home."

Mith pouted. "But it's greasy..."

Nyloh chuckled. "Mithy, everything we have is greasy."

"I’ll bet they used to chop people’s arms off and grind them into hamburger meat with this," Mith whispered, her face set in an exaggerated look of horror. “Just think—we have the murder weapon of the century!”

Nyloh rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve beeen reading too many horror novels.” He adjusted his things and started walking again.

Mith reluctantly lifted the bag onto her shoulder and followed him. She looked lost in thought for a moment, then stood on her toes and craned her neck to peer through the crowd. She could probably clear a path to the end of the hall if she ran, but Nyloh would scold her for it. She knew he meant well, but sometimes the guy just wasn’t any fun. Compared to his usual bubbly nature, he sure picked strange times to get serious.

A few more moments passed in silence. Mith tilted her head over her shoulder and caught Nyloh's eyes, pleading with him. He just shrugged, leaving her feeling a bit sour. She looked ahead one more time and got an idea. Sharp, electric energy surged to her legs. An impish grin stealing across her lips, she bumped Nyloh’s arm and quickly said to him, "Race ya!" She flashed her eyes at him to make sure he got the message, then turned and sprinted into the crowd.

Nyloh nearly dropped his box. “Hey! No fair, I’ve got all the junk,” he shouted.

Mith spun around and stuck her tongue out. “I know!”

Nyloh made a face. “Bad Mith! No pink things for you!”

Mith giggled and dashed away, the long ponytail tied off to the side bobbing up and down. Her shoes tapped the concrete as she ran, her long scarf trailed behind her. Ahead of her was an opening; a long metal rail sat on the other side of a wide concrete walkway, and beyond that, she could see the roof of the station. Giant luminescent domes hung from the ceiling, their amber glow casting warm light over the cold underground.

Mith dug her heels into the floor. She skidded to a halt right before she reached the edge and caught the railing with both hands. Breathless and excited, she waited for Nyloh before running further. Her wide eyes took in everything above and below, and as Nyloh slowed to a stop beside her, she pointed to the large basin below them like an eager child.

“There’s so many people!”

Nyloh chuckled. “Yep, they come here from all over the Hollows,” he said, hooking Mith’s elbow, “which is why we have to stay together now. No more running around, got it?”

“Of course,” Mith said, “you don’t have to tell me twice. I wasn’t raised in paradise.”

“You so were,” he countered.

“Hey!” Mith whined and bumped his right side. He repelled her with ease.

“Okay, Ms. Tough Girl,” he mocked, shoving a box of metal parts at her. “Let’s see you carry some stuff.”

“No,” she chirped through a contented smile.

Nyloh shrugged. “Fine,” he said. He pretended to be pensive while they made their way down a long set of metal stairs. “I could sell you into slavery. Get my money back for all the food you eat.”

Mith’s eyes went wide. Her face contorted into a child-like pout. All she lacked were the tears and it would have been a perfect picture. “You wouldn't!"

Nyloh snickered. Her acting may not have been cinematic, but he always got a kick out of it. However, knowing her as long as he had had given him a good sense of when to quit. “You know I wouldn’t,” he said, then winked at her, “although it probably wouldn’t be too hard.”

Mith whined at his remark. She tucked her chin under the rim of her scarf as they stepped off the stairs. “Maybe I should help you,” she said, lifting a few odds and ends from Nyloh’s box.

Old Aegis Station had once been the most busy subway depot in the entire city. Built deep into the earth and armed with the best structural defenses of its time, the station had been an essential part of the war. It connected over a dozen underground tracks to strategic positions both within—and also outside of—the city’s walls. Soldiers poured into the hub day and night. Trains plowed through the darkness without rest or repair until the reckless abuse caught up with them. Halfway through the war, Aegis Station was declared dangerous, and was ordered to be destroyed. It had to be cut off from all of its most important routes in order to prevent an influx of enemy troops into the city from the underground. The tunnels were sealed, the trains were dismantled, and at last, Aegis Station was caved in by Xaliber’s own army. They believed they had succeeded.

Mith and Nyloh continued walking out onto the open floor of the station. The room was long and wide with a tall rock ceiling. The floors were polished marble, all the railings sculpted stone. Against the back wall sat a large, white-faced clock with giant metal hands. Mith stared at it and wondered if it was correct. The time read half past three, but she didn’t know if it was morning or afternoon.

Finally disinterested in the clock, Mith was about to look away when a wash of vivid, glowing colors caught her eye. “Wow,” she exclaimed. She turned to Nyloh and tugged on his arm. “Look at those windows! Is that sunlight?”

Nyloh turned to look. “Nah, they’re just lit from the back with a bulb or something. We’re too far underground to see the sun.” Mith’s face fell, and Nyloh shrugged. “They’re still pretty. Stained glass is something you barely see anymore.”

“Stained glass.” Mith repeated the words. “Even the name sounds pretty. Can we look for some?”

Nyloh had already turned back to surveying the room. “Sure, if you want,” he said absently. His eyes were already scanning the stalls for the best possible trades.

Beside him, Mith smudged some grease into a stray drift of sand with her boot. Some of it fell into a crack between the stones, the black sludge balling up with it. Merchants setting up permanent residence on the main floor, and all the human traffic that came with them, evidently had a high toll. It made her a little bit sad trying to envision what the subway station had looked like before being converted into a thieves’ markets.

Mith glanced at the box of junk in Nyloh’s arms. They had brought a couple of tools, a few pieces of salvaged machinery, a little bit of money and a few fresh vegetables to trade. Nyloh had told her that in the the Hollows, spare parts were always needed, and the only thing harder to find than money was fresh, steroid-free food. Mith had insisted they bring a few of their vegetables; the plants she had at home were doing better each season. They would have more than enough veggies just for the two of them with this yield alone. It didn’t make sense to let rot what could be shared or traded.

A quick brush of Nyloh’s arm flipped the box lid closed. As he’d mentioned before they arrived, it would be safer to keep the goods out of sight until time to negotiate a sale. The underground had all types, but the most common were regular street thugs. Mith watched as Nyloh took a few steps towards the center of the room and fell in line beside a row of shops. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was following him. She jogged up to his side quickly. What lay before them was the arduous task of shopping on a very limited budget.

Trading went well the first hour. They had been able to secure most of the essentials—light bulbs, soap, more tools, fabric and thread for mending clothes, a pound of meat—without too much haggling, but they were down to their last few ounces of currency. They weren’t even halfway through the market, and Nyloh knew there had to be something he was forgetting.

All at once, it hit him. He hadn’t seen Mith in a good twenty minutes. Nyloh immedately tore himself away from his current deal and ran out of the crowd. He hurried to get his cargo on the ground so he’d have his hands free. From where he stood, he could see down several rows at once. His mind ran circles around him as anxiety flooded his brain.

Mith, I swear to the god of pink, you better be on one of these aisles. Don’t scare me like this...

“What’s wrong? Did you see a ghost?”

Nyloh’s heart flipped somersaults when he heard her voice. He sighed and turned to see Mith standing beside him, backpack slung over her shoulder, serene smile planted on her face as always. She was fine, and he was overreacting.

“Where have you been? Somebody could’ve nabbed you,” he said.

He hadn’t realized how angry he sounded. He practically hissed the words. Mith’s eyes popped open and Nyloh instantly regretted being so sharp, but before he could prepare an apology, Mith offered one first.

“I’m sorry, I know you told me not to run off,” she started. She dropped her eyes and nudged the floor with the toe of her shoe. “I didn’t go far. I saw a chance to trade and really wanted to try it.”

Nyloh stayed silent for a few second, but eventually decided that he could speak; Mith wasn’t upset at being scolded and was still interested in talking to him. He’d be arguing with himself for days over his remark, whether she deserved it or not.

“Oh, you did? How’d you do?”

Mith opened her arms and pressed something into Nyloh’s hands. He grasped the soft objects and lifted them up where he could see them. Wrapped in a long blue bandana was a pair of gloves. Rather nice gloves.

Nyloh looked up. He first gazed at her, then back to the gloves, then at his own torn pair of cut-off hand warmers. Mith wore a knowing smile on her face, and when Nyloh continued to have no idea how she could have found such a thing, let alone afford it, she pointed to the black bag.

His eyes widened. “No way. You sold it?”

An impish grin slowly spread across Mith’s face. She nodded excitedly and held up the empty backpack. “It’s GONE!”

“It’s gone! That’s incredible!” Nyloh reached out and accepted the bag from her, but before she could get away, he pulled her into a quick, one-armed hug. “I’ve gotta hear how you did it,” he said.

Mith squirmed away. “I put on a face for the man at the store, so he looked it over like he really didn’t want it, but then he grinned real big and said ‘I can’t say no a pretty little gal in pink’ and he traded me for it!” She deepened her voice when she got to the shop owner’s dialogue; her voice resumed its excited tone immediately after.

“Oh, really! Maybe you should make all the deals from now on,” Nyloh said.

Mith hopped around to his dropped box, hooked the toe of her shoe behind it, and nudged it forward. “No,” she chirped, perfectly content with her refusal.

Nyloh chuckled. “You would say that.” He pulled the filled box to his side and started pulling out the leftover objects. Nyloh got most of them out, then paused. “What’s this doing here?” In his hands was a small wooden box. Every corner was chipped and the paint job was nothing special, but he recognized it. He lifted his eyes. “You’re not thinking of giving this away?”

Mith averted her eyes. “I just thought I’d bring it in case I found something I couldn’t leave without,” she said. She crossed one ankle behind the other and tapped the ground softly. “I don’t have any jewelry to put in it, so...” She let the sentence trail off.

Nyloh sat still a moment. Kneeling on the scuffed marble floor, he sorted his thoughts against the voices in the crowd. The old subway station was dimly lit, the bronze lighting encasing everything in a feeling of timelessness. He enjoyed being there; the atmosphere, the crowds, the bartering market; even though life in the underground was also dangerous, he knew it was the life he loved the most. He wasn’t so sure about everyone else.

Nyloh looked up at Mith and studied her a moment. She was a flower among weeds—a bright spot in the middle of a desperate region. She had been able to adapt to life in the slums very quickly, but Nyloh had to credit some of that to her age. She was just a teenager, and although she was smart, her mind worked on a different level. She needed constant looking-after, lest she run herself into disaster, then try to make friends with the harbringer. “Naive” was the best word to describe her, as it had been since he met her.

“Well, let’s not sell it until we have to,” he said, gently placing the jewelry box and gloves into the black bag. Nyloh then put on his trademark smile and stood to his feet. He stuffed the backpack into the box, then tucked the box under his free arm. He took a few steps and nodded towards the other side of the room.

“Are you hungry?”

Mith nodded vigorously.

“Good! We’ll get a meal and then get rid of the rest of this,” he said, “carrying too much stuff in the tunnels isn’t such a great idea.”

Mith nodded and gathered the rest of their things, then skipped after Nyloh.