White walls of granite stretched out before Elspeth and the other young women as their caged wagon approached the city of Emmanuel. Elspeth had heard many stories during her youth about the city named for the One God, but she had never laid eyes on it before. The name of the city held a prophecy, for the name meant “God with us.”
Elspeth felt so tired. How many days had it been since the riders in crimson and black had come to destroy the town of Grandee? She had stopped counting the sunrises. The women had been deprived of proper food and were always left thirsty. Elspeth felt like they were traveling the razor’s edge between death and life.
All hope had melted away for her. She had no idea why they had been spared while all the others in Grandee were killed. Plumes of smoke and fire had been their last images of Grandee-the final memory burning in their minds before each night’s sleep since.
The white walls of Emmanuel towered above her, fifty feet into the air. These impenetrable walls had stood as a testament to the holiness of Shaddai and as a beacon of hope. Now they encompassed the doom of the entire nation.
Three walls surrounded the royal city of Emmanuel on three sides with the palace as the fourth. From the back wall of the palace, the white granite cascaded down all the way into the Azure Sea hundreds of feet below. Mordred and his Wraith Riders were the only ones who had ever been able to take this city, the only ones in ages who had even dared to try.
Towers rose above the walls at regular intervals. From this distance it became difficult to see, but Elspeth knew that demons were there guarding the city. She had never heard exactly how many demons served under Lord Mordred, but it had to be a great number. Many horrifying stories had been told about Mordred’s covenant with these wicked spirits. Elspeth wondered if the half had still not been told.
The caged wagon crawled up the cobblestone path, taking them through the main gate of the city. Both iron portcullises were raised, at the moment. If an enemy happened to make it beyond the first portcullis, into the vestibule, archers and gunmen would attack them from the wall. Troughs set within the stone, higher up, accommodated boiling oil, which could be poured upon those trapped between the two gates.
When the cart with its prisoners came inside the walls, the city spread out before them in all directions. The palace loomed high above every other structure, straight ahead from the main gate. The main road they traveled, branched out into smaller avenues along the way. But their destination appeared to be the palace itself.
All of the luxury of the House of Nod resided here in Emmanuel City. Elspeth had expected the city to be in shambles when she arrived. Conquerors such as Mordred usually wasted and destroyed everything they touched. But to her surprise, the city flourished.
People went about their daily business in crowded streets. Farmers and merchants traveled with their wares to the massive market complex. Wealthier civilians walked here and there on paved walkways. To look at them, one might never think anything had ever happened. Perhaps, she thought, wickedness such as Mordred’s is not always ugly.
As the caged wagon ambled further down the wide avenue toward the palace, Elspeth began to notice a change in the scenery. The prosperous homes and businesses of civilians gave way to the bustle of the military. For acres and acres, Elspeth saw the preparations of war.
The once lush, manicured lawns adorning the palace grounds had been converted to training quads for Mordred’s army. Thousands of men in red and black uniforms sparred in tight formations or trained with various weapons. In the distance to her right, Elspeth saw the manufacture of gigantic engines of war. These would not be used to raid villages and towns. These could only be reserved for laying siege to a large city.
Mordred’s plan became clear to her. The siege engines may as well have had Wayland stamped upon them in blood. This had to be Mordred’s intention. With a rebellion fomenting in Wayland to his rule in Nod, Mordred was not going to wait for an attack. He would take the fight to his enemies.
The wagon proceeded into the palace courtyard underneath another smaller double portcullis. Inside the courtyard wall, a lush garden lay before them. Truly, evil can seem beautiful, she thought.
Fountains of Azure seawater lay on either side of the road. The palace was beautiful beyond compare. The building had been constructed from the same white granite block as the wall, only it was highly polished and adorned by many solid gold and bronze statues.
Elspeth recognized these immediately and her suspicions about the evil nature of this place were instantly confirmed. Castings of idol gods had been set up everywhere on the grounds. Idolatry had always been strictly prohibited by Shaddai, but now the city bearing his name was full of it.
She saw, in some of the garden spots, men and women praying to them. There were idols set up beneath large trees and upon the fountains-the primary ornaments seen wherever one’s eyes fell upon the palace grounds.
Fifty other young women had been kept in the wagon with Elspeth. Others had been separated from them along the way from Grandee. She had no idea what had become of them since. Some of the women sobbed. What would happen to them now? But Elspeth refused to give Mordred the satisfaction of her tears.
When the wagon stopped, a driver dressed in red and black armor, hopped down from his seat and met several palace guards at the rear of the wagon. They unlocked the steel-banded cage and motioned for the women to come out.
One of the guards addressed them. “You’re going to be processed. Your group has the privilege of working here in the palace. You should be grateful to the gods. There are far worse places where you could be laboring for Lord Mordred. Obey and you won’t come to know what that statement really means. Disobey and you will live out your remaining days in pain.”
He led them through a side gate off the path leading into the palace. The former servant’s quarters resided here. Once they entered the larger of these less stately buildings, a matron took control of the women.
Anger burned in the haggish woman’s eyes. She laid into the young women immediately, explaining very clearly how she would not tolerate any laziness. “I will not be trifled with!” she said.
The matron and several women working under her wore dark dresses covered by off-white, heavy aprons with pockets in the front. She introduced herself as Mrs. Palmer. The other women with her brought out stacks of uniforms.
“These will be your clothes for as long as you reside here at the palace of Lord Mordred. Take good care of them. If I have to issue you any more, you will receive ten lashes each time. Is that understood?”
Elspeth and all of the other young women nodded. It was not a nod of approval, but the nod of forced compliance, a nod which punctuated the hopelessness of their situation. As Elspeth gathered the garments meted out to her and fell back into line, she wondered where her brother might be at this moment. She wondered if he might still be alive and looking for her.