The Outlands (rough draft)

Heya! Here's part three! Looking forward to your comments!

The city loomed over her. A thick layer of smoke hung over the rooftops of the tall buildings. Noise told her that the city was a hub of life in the centre of a void. Nothing existed outside its walls for several miles. The road cut through the brown dirt like a knife, a stark contrast on the earth. The only sign that there was life outside the forest of stone.

The last few miles had been fairly easy for Mositas. The land had become flat, until now the horizon was as far away as the eye could reach, with not a tree in sight. She had left the woods long ago. The only thing holding her back had been the thought of those horsemen. She was following them against her will. The exposure from walking on the empty plain had been almost unbearable, and she sighed heavily with relief as she reached the city walls.

But the wooden gate was closed. 'Oh no!' she thought. She had been hoping to arrive unnoticed. She strode firmly up to the gate. There was a small door set in it, which was also closed. She knocked loudly.

"Who goes there?" came a voice. 'How imaginative,' Mositas thought to herself, with a grim smile. She adjusted her position - bent over, hood up, concealing the details of her face - before she answered.

"I am but a lonely traveller. I am seeking refuge. I have come a long way." The door opened, and there stood a guard. He was dressed in the same attire as the horsemen, and he towered over her, blinking stupidly.

"What... umm... business do you have in Letuma?" he asked.

"No business. I am merely looking for a place to stay for the night, before I continue my travels."

"I'm afraid I can't let you in. Governor's rules... or summat like that."

"But surely you wouldn't turn down a poor old woman? What harm can I possibly do?"

"Well... I suppose you're right... but..."

"Now, come on. I won't be staying long. Just overnight."

"Well..." She could practically see his mind trying to work out what to do. "OK, then. But for one night only."

"Thank you, good sir." She made her way through the gate and walked up the street, leaving the guard confused and bewildered. She soon stood straight again, and lowered her hood. She frowned. The sight before her was distasteful, to say the least. The street was far from empty, yet not nearly as full as should have been expected. Beggars lay up against the walls, pleading for food or money. Market stalls were practically empty, their sellers attempting to sell the few mouldy goods they had.

Mositas made her way through the despair as quickly as she could, and soon walked through an alley into another street. There was slightly more activity here, and not so many beggars. Still, however, people had sad looks upon their faces, and the quality of the market stalls was not that much better.

Mositas kept cutting through alleyways, getting to other streets, getting deeper and deeper into the city. The further she went, the better the markets became, and the happier the people appeared, until finally she made her way onto a large square, directly in the centre of the city. In the middle of the square stood a large tower, pointing up at the sky. This was the way cities in the Outlands were built: circles within circles, each circle giving residence to the city dwellers. The closer to the centre, the higher the class of the people. Right in the centre stood the city tower, where the mayor resided. It was a cruel system, but efficient. Those most likely to catch disease, or die of starvation, lived near the edge, making the removal of dead bodies easier.

This particular tower was grander than usual. 'The home of the Governor,' thought Mositas, with an angry feeling in the pit of her stomach. The tower windows glowed red in the setting sun. Two days ago the horsemen had galloped past. Yet still, Mositas could see them as clearly in her mind as she had that night. She shivered, and turned away. 'I suppose I really better find somewhere to stay, she thought.' However, before she had a chance to move, she heard her name being called.

"Mositas? Hey, Mositas! It's really you, isn't it?" She turned to see a tall man running towards her, and she smiled wider than she had for days. He reached her, and gripped her in a hug, then stood back to look at her. "I see you got the letter! Really, we have so much to talk about. How was your journey?" He put his arm around her shoulder, and walked with her away from the square.

"It was fine, Fero. Although I saw something that we really do have to talk about." She spoke to him for the first time, and her smile faded, to be replaced by a serious expression, as she looked at him. She took in his appearance: a mop of blonde hair fell over his eyes, which were a bright green. He was dressed in travelling clothes, like her, but seemed distinctly cleaner.

"Yes, yes, but we need to catch up first. How is my little sister doing, now that she's left home?" She took this remark as an insult, and broke away from him.

"Little sister? That's laughable. Have you seen yourself lately? You seem to grow less mature by the day. But I'm serious, Fero, we need to talk. And about that letter - how did you manage to afford the wax, or, for that matter, the paper? As far as I know, you haven't been working these past six months, and those things don't just get given away."

"Ah, well, I have a friend in the city. We're staying with him, actually. He lives in the innermost circle."

"Hmm. I can't imagine what upper class city goer would want to befriend you. But I suppose I will suffer to meet him."

"Ah, Mozzy, you're just as melodramatic as you always were." She made no reply, but took in her surroundings. They had left the square while they were talking, and were making their way up a spacious alley. The houses were clean and tall on either side. "Here we are," said Fero, and stopped outside a red door. "Wait until you meet Deman, Mozzy. I'm sure you'll like him. He's not like most rich folks." And before she had a chance to reply, he opened the door, and pushed her in.