The Twilight City Read online

  Contents

  The Twilight City

  Front Matter

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Author’s Note

  Also by Gregory Mattix

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  THE TWILIGHT CITY

  NEXUS OF THE PLANES

  BOOK 1

  GREGORY MATTIX

  The Twilight City

  Copyright © 2016 by Gregory Mattix

  Cover art by dleoblack

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, business establishments, events, locales is entirely coincidental.

  Prologue

  “Many millennia ago, there lived two brothers,” the old bard began. “They were blessed of the gods. Many believed they were even gods themselves, for their skills were much greater than those of mere mortals. Or perhaps they were simply imbued with godlike abilities. Their true names have long been forgotten. They are simply known through history by the titles they chose. The elder brother’s talents in the magical arts were incredibly powerful. He chose to be known as the Architect. The younger brother, who was equally skilled in the sciences, became known as the Engineer. The gods recognized their talents and approached them, tasking them with constructing a great Machine, one fused with magic and technology—a Machine so powerful that it could manipulate space and time itself by pulling the various planes of existence into alignment. Many thought the idea foolish. If the gods themselves couldn’t perform such a feat, how could these two, who were not deities? After many long years of work and study, the two brothers eventually built this wondrous construct. The Engineer, with the aid of the finest dwarven smiths across the planes, designed, forged, and built the great Machine. The Architect, having gathered the most powerful mages, joined their arcane powers together and imbued the Machine with enormous mystical power, which drew the planes into alignment.”

  The old bard paused in his tale to drink deeply of his mead. After a moment, he belched in satisfaction and continued. “Over time, the Machine became a city unto itself, filled with the slaves that kept it running and the guardians that protected it. This city-machine is an ever-changing and dangerous crossroads where the planes of existence intersect. As befits an important trading hub, merchants and businesses sprang up along with the associated dregs of society that follow in their wake: beggars, thieves, and whores.”

  The bard produced a deck of cards in one of his nimble hands. With a dramatic gesture, he made the cards spray out as if by their own accord, forming a circular pattern and standing upon their edges on the pitted surface of the oak table. The cards remained upright, laid out like spokes of a wheel, leaving a small circle at the center.

  “Such are the planes of the multiverse, as aligned by the Machine. And this,” he said solemnly, placing his finger over the open circle where the cards met, “is the center of everything: the Nexus of the Planes.”

  Two youths stared at him, rapt with attention.

  Tybolt, the young man, anxiously leaned forward in his chair. “Where is this Machine, this city? How does one get to it?” He, and his twin sister, Talessa, were young adventurers who had sought the bard out.

  The bard frowned as he squinted into his empty tankard. “My throat is getting a bit dry, lad.” He grimaced and put a hand to his back, arching it and popping the bones dryly. “Ah, the damned cold seeps into these old bones and makes them ache.” He leaned back in the chair gingerly and scratched at his shaggy gray hair.

  Tybolt quickly waved the barmaid over and ordered another mead for the bard. The twins’ eyes remained on the cards, which still stood on their edges as if by magic even as the floor creaked and shifted from patrons moving about and a stiff breeze cut through the Club and Cauldron Inn when the door opened.

  “Ah, that’s better.” The bard wiped his mouth on his sleeve after a long drink from his renewed cup. His brow furrowed in concentration. “Where was I?”

  “The Machine… the city at the center of the universe?” Talessa prompted, her voice quiet enough that the bard almost couldn’t hear her over the background noise of the busy tavern.

  “Ah, yes of course. This Machine became a city between the planes, a crossroads where every manner of creature, from the vilest fiends to the anointed celestials, mingle together, traversing time and space itself as they go about their business. Whatever business that might be.” He shrugged.

  “Nexus of the Planes,” Tybolt said quietly, as if afraid anyone would hear him. “How does one get there?”

  “Aye, Nexus—this wondrous, bizarre city that spawned from the Machine. How does one get there—that is the burning question, is it not?” The bard’s eyes were sharp as he appraised the siblings. “Many portals lead there, young ones, but you must know where to look—and have the proper key to open such doors, of course. Therein lies the difficulty.” He leaned back in his chair, loosening his belt a notch. “What business does a young lad and lass like yourselves have there, anyway? Most on this world know nothing of such a dark place, happily going about their little lives without a care in the world, not a thought spared for what terrors lie beyond the doors of the dark.” He slurped noisily from his tankard. “And if they did think of such places, those with enough brains between their ears would want naught to do with Nexus.”

  “It’s not that we want to find this city but that we need to,” Tybolt said. “Our father was a famous adventurer who disappeared when he went in search of this place when we were still children.”

  “Father said the greatest riches from the different planes were collected at the center of the multiverse by some great tyrant,” Talessa added. “Our father may have been a scoundrel and thief but never a liar. He was fond of legends and wise in the ways of the world. He simply wanted to bring back enough riches to support our mother, bless her soul, and the two of us for the rest of our years.”

  And a fool most likely as well, the bard thought. “I daresay your father may have gotten in over his head. Perhaps he gleaned just enough truth during his adventures to get himself lost in the planes. There’s little chance you will find him again. If he yet lives, even. You’d be wise to not interfere with the often unscrupulous commerce of Nexus.”

  The bard shivered as another cold draft cut through the common room. A group of northmen had come in, stomping snow and mud out of their boots and removing their heavy fur cloaks.

  “I’m afraid we must find him,” Tybol
t said. “Mother passed on this autumn past. He’s all that we have left.”

  Talessa nodded at her brother’s statement. Their young faces were determined.

  “Nexus is no place for young ones playing at adventurers,” the bard said.

  Both twins looked annoyed.

  “We can take care of ourselves,” Tybolt snapped. “We managed to run off a group of bandits by ourselves this past summer.”

  “Father taught us how to defend ourselves,” Talessa said more calmly.

  Typical—the boy’s the hothead, the girl the brains of the pair. The bard shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He had noticed when they entered the bar that, although young, they wore their swords with a comfortable familiarity. He suspected they could handle themselves against a few ragtag bandits. However, the denizens of Nexus and the outer planes were another matter altogether.

  Talessa studied the bard intently. “You’ve been there, haven’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

  The hook is set… and now, the young fish are ready to be reeled in. The bard studied the remaining finger of mead in his tankard as the twins watched him. After a long silence, he admitted, “Aye, I’ve been there. Narrowly escaped with my life, at that.” He drained the last of his mead. “Losing your life out there isn’t even the worst that can happen,” he nearly whispered. “If you lose your soul in the lower planes, then you can suffer for all eternity.”

  “Oh, come now,” Tybolt scoffed. “Save the old wives’ tales for the children. I don’t frighten that easily. Now, will you tell us how to get there? We can pay you.”

  The bard frowned. Nexus would be the death of these young fools, like many before them. But these two would not even make it that far. “Aye… I might know something,” he admitted with a sly smile. “But it is best shown in the light of day. There are enough shadows permeating that place that I wouldn’t want something to slip through that doesn’t belong.”

  The twins consulted each other as the bard ordered another mead. After a moment, they decided waiting until morning wouldn’t hurt.

  “If that’s what it takes to put the old man’s superstitions at ease,” Tybolt muttered.

  Talessa nodded silently. “Very well, we shall wait until the morning. Will you tell us more of Nexus? What happened to these two brothers?”

  “Ah, that’s a tragic tale, indeed.” The bard scooped the cards neatly up in his hand, making them disappear back into a sleeve. He took a pull from his fresh tankard. “So once these two brothers realized the incredible power and potential of this Machine they had built, they began fighting over who would have control over it. For the one who controls the crossroads can gain unimaginable wealth and power. Levying tolls and taxes, gaining favor and influence with the various powers of the planes—the thought of such wealth and power made greed sprout in their hearts like savage thorns, festering there until it consumed them. Brother raised arms against brother, with their factions joining them. After a time, the feud escalated, and they both raised mighty armies. A great war soon erupted across the planes. The Planar War, it came to be known as. For years, the war raged until the Architect eventually got the upper hand through the tremendous magic of himself and his allies. It was said that even though the Engineer sought to make blood pacts with the demons of the lower planes, his forces were still overwhelmed. The Engineer’s armies and all of his war machines and technologies were destroyed and left to crumble into ruin, scattered across the planes. The Engineer himself was imprisoned and cast down into the pits of the Abyss, where it is said he suffers for all eternity.”

  “And what of the Architect?” Tybolt asked after the bard had gone silent for a long time.

  “No one really knows, lad. The Architect’s fate is lost to history. Perhaps the gods themselves removed him, angered at the destruction wrought across the planes by their war. Eventually, the current ruler of Nexus took power, whom legend speaks of as the Architect’s most loyal and powerful servant. To this day, the Pale Lord of Nexus rules with an iron fist.”

  The bard was speaking quietly, the twins leaning toward him, captivated by his tale and afraid to miss a word. To his senses, the twins’ youthful vigor was a nearly irresistible lure. He quickly quaffed more of the mead and forced his thoughts back to finishing his tale.

  “During his last days, the Architect, aided by his trusted servant, managed to alter the Machine in a manner preventing the gods from entering Nexus. Once they realized the Architect’s ploy, it was already too late, and they were barred from entering. Not that they needed Nexus to travel about—deities can simply maneuver through the planes at will—but the opportunity to directly control the flow through Nexus was barred to them. As a result, they are relegated to acting through their agents, but the Pale Lord has tremendous power and jealously guards against any threats to his power. Infractions against the law are punished harshly. If you truly have your heart set on going there, do not cross the Pale Lord or his minions.”

  “Warning taken,” Tybolt replied. “Where do we find this portal to Nexus?”

  “Meet me an hour before dawn a short distance south of town. There is a crossroads there and an ancient standing stone. I will be there. And don’t forget your purse of gold, for such knowledge does not come easily or cheaply.”

  The twins agreed and bade the old man good night.

  He watched as they retired to their room for the evening, the desire flaring in him anew. The bard cared little for their gold as he would levy something else as payment. He salivated, already tasting their hot, salty blood filling his mouth, the warmth in his veins as he consumed their vitality.

  The foolishness of youth, he thought. Such lives come cheaply. All roads eventually led to Nexus, but once one reaches it, escaping is another matter entirely.

  The bard focused on the guttering candle atop his table, and the tiny flame abruptly snuffed out under his gaze. “Such is the life of all mortals,” he muttered as he rose from his chair and straightened to his full height.

  In the mirror behind the bar, he saw his eyes glimmering in the gloom as if lit from within, stoked by his hunger. After a brief moment of concentration, they returned to normal. It would not do to raise suspicion over his nature, for his trade posing as an old bard was a lucrative one.

  After stretching out, his formerly hunched back was straight as a spear as he strode across the inn. Conversation in the tavern ceased for a moment, and the remaining patrons glanced over their shoulders nervously as a feeling of dread briefly stole over them.

  The old man, wearing nothing more than his threadbare stained tunic, stepped out into the blowing snow of the night, looking ahead to the morning.

  Chapter 1

  The massive foundry rumbled in eternal industry, exuding heat and belching soot from its smokestacks as it crouched menacingly atop a hill over the city of Nexus, like some great slumbering dragon. The enormous building seemed to have been constructed within a mad architect’s dreams: it sprawled for several bowshots in length and breadth, and its main rooftop soared well over a hundred feet in the air. Layer upon layer seemed to be stacked haphazardly, one atop the other, and the foundry’s once-rectangular shape was swollen by protrusions in every direction. Its smokestacks towered hundreds of feet in the air, the smoke forming a cloud that blotted out the faint starlight in the sky and reflected the lights across the whole city, causing a perpetual gloom.

  Fed by the foundry, machinery churned deep in the bowels of the city. A faintly audible choom choom choom was omnipresent and could be felt beneath one’s feet as much as heard wherever one might be in Nexus. Longtime residents became accustomed to the sound after living in the city for a time and eventually no longer even noticed it.

  Neratiri was a quick shadow flitting through the controlled chaos of the foundry. She had lived her entire life in Nexus and would have thought nothing of the sounds, had she not been forced to work at the foundry. By the end of the first year of her ninety-nine-year sentence, the young r
ogue was an expert at avoiding getting in the way of the other workers, be it the quick whips of the ill-tempered overseers or the lumbering automatons that could easily crush a humanoid to pulp beneath their iron feet. Nera’s quickness and natural resistance to heat made her ideal for her task even though she hated it.

  Great golems tirelessly shoveled coal into the huge blast furnace, but their great size and strength were ill-suited for the more delicate work of adding mana to the inferno. That was Nera’s job. Every quarter hour, she had to avoid the golems’ titanic shovels and feet and empty the contents of a rune-inscribed metal canister into the furnace.

  She cursed quietly at the persistent yammering of the gnomes. The small humanoids were working above her on an unstable scaffold they were attempting to repair, weakened from decades of use. They were ensconced in fire-resistant suits, which served to muffle their hearing, which in turn caused them to yell louder in Gnomish. The sound of the language already grated on the ears when it was spoken quietly, let alone a constant shouting match.

  The small humanoids were still hammering and ratcheting a newly replaced section of scaffolding above the mana storage bins. Nera had narrowly avoided taking a dropped iron wrench to the head several hours earlier. She had cursed long and loudly at the creatures, and when one of them responded with a slur, she had nearly climbed up the scaffold to toss the little bastard into the furnace. The stinging slash of the overseer’s whip along her bare shoulder had quickly restored order as well as reminding her of the need for good behavior if she hoped for any reduction to her lengthy sentence.

  The nearest iron golem groaned into motion as it retrieved another scoop of coal and lumbered forward. The runes on its body blazed with an orange glow against its shadowed silhouette when it stepped in front of the blazing inferno.

  Nera got to her feet and took a sip of warm water from her waterskin, mouth twisting in distaste. She hated drinking warm water constantly while at the foundry. The metallic taste of the water from the city pumps was intensified when warm.