Wizen was surprised to find that the City of Gold was actually made of gold. He’d been to a number of different, extravagantly named locations in his many years of existence. Not a single one of them had every actually lived up to their name. That only made sense. Anybody that actually possessed a great amount of riches generally wasn’t keen on summoning the attention of everyone that wanted to take a piece for themselves.

A wise man would not name a mountain full of gemstones Gemstone Mountain. He would call it Death Mountain and then do his damned best to ensure that it lived up to its name whenever fools came knocking in search of adventure.

But all the doubt in the world did nothing to tone down the respect Wizen felt as he gazed upon the city. It had been built upon the back of an enormous demon turtle with a white, weather-bleached shell. Towering spires rose so far into the sky above that their peaks disappeared into the dancing swirls of purple and red light that ruled over the Damned Plains.

Entrance to the city had been remarkably easy. He’d arrived at a golden lift the size of a city block and had barely even spoken a word to the guards before they’d taken what they deemed to be an appropriate amount from the sacrifice that he had prepared and ushered him in. They hadn’t even taken a cut for themselves or otherwise attempted to extort him.

Wizen highly doubted they had recognized his strength. His powers had been held close to chest, which meant the guards had been vetted and trained to the point where they didn’t seek any excess. That would have been impressive enough in the mortal realm, much less the Damned Plains.

His interest in the city only grew as he headed down its gold-paved streets. They wound through lines of massive trees of alabaster bark with leaves that sparkled like diamonds and sent swathes of light swirling across the ground in a rustling dance.

Scores of street vendors lined the sides of the road and gathered beneath the trees, their wares laid out on tarps before them. Not a single one of them hawked or called to the crowds passing through the city. They just sat silently, conversing in a respectful tone with anyone whose eye their wares caught.

The silence was not limited to the vendors. It seemed that the very city itself was equally as gentle. He could hear no sounds of argument or any clang of machinery. There was only the welcoming rustle of the trees and distant conversation, muted and respectful.

Despite the silence, Wizen could feel no fear in the air. It was not a quiet borne of terror of some mighty dictator or the threat of an army. The city — one located in the depths of the Damned Plains, a stone’s throw from the Black Reaches — seemed to be at peace. Even with the dust of the Wastes hanging in the air, the City of Gold felt clean.

“It’s quite odd, isn’t it?” Barb asked from beside Wizen, adjusting her one-handed grip on the large bag slung over her shoulder.

The two of them came to a stop near an alleyway at the edge of a bustling market. A vendor selling demon body parts that had been brought in from the Wastes watched them from the small tent he’d set up around himself but made no moves to approach them. Wizen examined the man’s wares for a moment before turning his attention back to Barb.

“Odd? Yes, I would say so,” Wizen agreed in a tone barely any louder than the song of the trees around them. “It is not what I expected.”

“What do you make of it? I didn’t expect to find an oasis like this in the middle of this wretched place.”

Wizen didn’t respond immediately. His gaze traced over the crowds in the market. The conversation here was louder than it had been in the outer streets, but it was still controlled and polite. If he had closed his eyes, the only way he would have known that he stood in a market would have been through the smell of roasted meat that wafted through the air.

His expression tightened imperceptibly. The City of Gold lived up to its name perfectly. As Barb had said, it held the allure of an oasis in a desert. Its streets were beautiful and well cared for. The demons that lived within it seemed to be content. No haphazard fights or battle cries echoed through the air. It was silent. It was beautiful.

For a place like this to exist within the Damned Plains should have been impossible. It was too alluring. A ruler with the power to protect a city such as this would have stricken fear into those that lived within it. One that controlled through respect instead of fear would have been destroyed by those that sought to claim the beauty of the city. Wizen couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something vital.

“I do not have an opinion yet. I suspect that will change in due time,” Wizen replied. “Do not allow yourself to grow complacent. We have much to accomplish before we may breathe comfortably.”

“Hard to get complacent when you’ve only got one hand,” Barb grumbled. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to scratch something with something that doesn’t exist?”

“We will find you a replacement in due time,” Wizen said. “You must be patient. We have come too far to allow ourselves to deviate from our plans. All of my pieces have been moved into position. Have yours?”

“Yes,” Barb said with a curt nod. “They all made it into the city. Do we begin?”

“No. Not yet. Time is on our side and caution serves a far greater purpose than haste. I require more time to properly come to an understanding of what it is we face. The rumors and ancient texts that we have used to take us this far are reaching the end of their usefulness.”If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“Which is a way to say we can relax and take a gander around town to see what this fancy old place has to offer, right?” Barb glanced over at the market. “Because I think I saw some real interesting ingredients back there. I’d love to get my hands on a few of them. Who knows when I’ll get another chance.”

“Feel free,” Wizen replied with an absent-minded shake of his head. He extended a tendril of intent down the many strands of magic running from his mind and throughout the city around them. Information flooded in like a rushing wave. Wizen was still for several seconds as he processed it, then inclined his head. “You know how to take care of yourself — and how to find me. I will need more than the army we have gathered, and we lack information. I will rectify the problem.”

“Just don’t get anyone too high profile too early,” Barb said, turning toward the market and hoisting the bag higher on her shoulder. “Who knows what kind of protections the upper rankers have down here. I’m eager to find out.”

The merchant to their side glanced in their direction. He’d probably picked up on a few scraps of their conversation. Wizen didn’t mind. It wasn’t going to matter.

“Just don’t cause too much trouble,” Wizen said.

Barb just laughed and strode off. Wizen didn’t wait for her to leave before approaching the merchant, who watched him with wary eyes. The demon was a portly sort. His red skin bulged against his shirt, which had probably been a little too tight when he’d bought it several years ago.

The demon’s gaze lifted to meet Wizen’s. “Can I get something for you, sir?”

“This,” Wizen replied, reaching out to touch a severed arm with muscles as thick as his torso. “How much is it?”

“Ten gold,” the merchant replied.

“I will take it,” Wizen said.

The merchant blinked, then nodded. He reached for the arm and Wizen lifted his own hand, sending his fingers brushing across those of the merchant in the process. A spike of mental energy drilled out from him. The demon’s limbs locked up and he stiffened as his mind put up an instant of feeble resistance.

Then Wizen’s magic crushed the merchant’s mental defenses like a grape. The merchant’s hand dropped to his side and he stared ahead mutely. Wizen prepared to begin questioning the demon when a flutter of movement and hushed words from the alley caught his attention.

Four demons had surrounded a short, hooded demon and trapped them against a wall. Wizen’s hearing wasn’t good enough to make out their exact words, but it wasn’t hard to tell what was happening.

Even a place as refined as the City of Gold will have its gutter scum. Thieves, perhaps? That could be useful.

“Tell me about the City of Gold,” Wizen told the merchant in a soft tone, still watching the urchins out of the corner of his eye. “Do not spare any detail. Speak of everything you know. Every rumor, every shadow you have caught from the corner of your eyes. Everything.”

The merchant launched into a speech, but only managed to get through a few words before a pained yelp echoed from the alley. One of the demons had struck the short one in the stomach.

Another grabbed them by the hood and lifted them into the air. The demon clawed at their throat, trying to keep their own clothes from strangling them.

“Where is it?” one of the demons snarled, speaking loud enough for Wizen to make him out. Another hushed him, but nobody seemed to be paying too much attention to the alley. The demon drove his captive into the wall and pinned them there by the stomach with his free hand.

As the small demon struggled to free themselves, their hood slipped down to reveal the face of a young, female demon with a head of long, black hair. A jagged scar ran from above her left eye to her right jawbone and her mouth was full of tiny, pointed fangs. She kicked furiously at the larger demon, but her struggles amounted to nothing.

The demon holding her up said something that Wizen couldn’t make out. His eyes twitched slightly. The demon couldn’t have been older than fifteen, but she looked like—

One of the demons surrounding the small one pulled a dagger from their side and pointed it at her. The demon took a step closer to bring the knife into range. She bit down on his hand and yanked her head back, sending a spray of blood splattering across her face and the wall behind it.

“You little shit. I’ve had it with you. If you won’t tell us where it is, then I don’t need you alive,” the demon snarled, driving the blade for her neck.

Wizen’s hand twitched.

The dagger clattered across the ground. Four bodies followed it down, each carved to dozens of pieces. Curls of gray energy rose from their corpses and surrounded the demon girl, who dropped to the ground without the hand to keep her pinned.

“Silence,” Wizen said, silencing the merchant. “Remain here.”

The girl stared at the newly made corpses in awe. Her gaze flicked up to Wizen as he stepped into the alleyway, his staff marking every other step that he took. The girl scrambled to her feet, but he had already closed the distance between them by the time she had realized what happened. She scooped the dagger off the ground and held it before herself defensively.

Wizen was silent for several seconds as he examined the girl. His lips pressed thin. The familiarity that he had seen in the girl’s features evaporated like a summer breeze in the dead of winter.

I was wrong. She doesn’t look like her at all. This is just a demon child, no different than any other. I am becoming an addled fool.

“D-did you do that? Was that external magic?” the girl asked, swallowing heavily. Despite the tremor in her voice, her hands were steady. She’d used a blade before. “I — I swear. I don’t know where it is.”

Wizen extended a hand toward the bodies. They shuddered, the twirls of gray smoke rising off them thickening into streamers that swirled through the air and into his palm. The corpses disintegrated into smoke, pouring into his body and vanishing.

The girl swallowed. “I… might know where it is. Don’t turn me into smoke and eat me. I’ll… probably give you indigestion.”

Wizen tilted his head to the side. His arm raised. He did not need witnesses. Especially not ones that reminded him of anything. The young demon stared at him, her back pressed to the wall and the dagger raised before her like a shield. Her gaze met his and read the thoughts in his eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut. Wizen’s hand twitched.

He turned on his heel and strode from the alley, leaving the girl behind him.

“Wizen!” Barb said from beside the glassy-eyed merchant as he re-emerged. She had a new bag clutched in her hands. “I got some stuff. What were you up to?”

“Nothing,” Wizen replied. “Come on. We have much to accomplish.”

Barb blinked, then shrugged. Wizen snapped his fingers and the merchant stepped away from his wares, following after them as they headed deeper into the City of Gold.