Chapter 10

Avenue of Kings

- Still as stone, silent alone, statues of flesh and bone -

On the other side of the realm, the lone figure of Thonavar moved through the streets of city below as if being hunted by demons. He reached the market place which looked strangely eerie and was a jumble of shadows. The light from the moon overhead shone down, illuminating all kinds of ware, throwing shadows of all shapes and sizes against the walls. All was still. All was unmoving, save himself. And his own shadow.

Thonavar crept stealthily, darting behind wooden crates filled with rotting fruit and rusting metal butcher tables stained with blood before emerging cautiously, his sharp eyes scanning his surroundings. His breathing was a little ragged. Not from tiredness but from panic mixed with excitement. He had escaped being locked away in a stasis cell and the possibility of torture and a false confession. But there were still so many questions in the air. He did not know what was going to happen next. Thonavar knew Alexis' father was a noble in city above and well established in social circles. His persistence in putting this matter to rest and seeking revenge on behalf of his son would not falter.

He passed a familiar fruit stall, one that he had stolen from when he was but nine years of age. The memory of the incident was as clear as day. He had climbed atop the canvas covering the stall and had hung upside down, quickly snatching an apple and a pear when he saw no one looking. Then he had leapt onto the canvas of another stall, making his way atop the familiar lofty platform above the marketplace upon which he would often go, for it was a place he could be alone. Sitting up there, he would gaze out at the different city levels of HavenGuarde high above him, dreaming about a time, perhaps in the not too far future, where he would spend his days living and travelling in the dazzling city above. It was one of his favourite places to go until Alexis found it.

Thonavar hurtled over a broken wooden crate. Moments ago, his hands had been bound and he had been struck in the face multiple times by two evil men in a dark room. He had been helpless and did not know what to do. It was no fight with some boys from college. It had been a frighteningly brutal and real experience. A thought crossed his mind and he could not help but try to picture the wardens' faces the moment they opened the doors to the hovercraft and found it empty. They would be furious, he thought. Fear mixed with a sense of relief gripped him for he knew that he had only narrowly escaped torture, and possibility, death. The thought of the wardens catching up to him again sent a chill down his spine.

But I will not be caught. He smiled to himself but again the severity of the situation sank in. I am a fugitive on the run. Thonavar ran on, his feet barely making any sound, avoiding puddles of dirt and grime, and brightly-lit areas. Taking the small streets behind the marketplace, he headed east just as the Felix had instructed.

Why is Felix helping me? What does he want? Do not be so easily trusting.

He passed through the marketplace and travelled upwards for a little while, avoiding the travelators and choosing instead to ascend the giant slopes of a nearby metal factory. The streets, roads and pavements were becoming noticeably cleaner and more orderly. He was reaching city middle. Even the building models looked more modern. It then occurred to him that he had never been so far away from his home before. He had come to edge of his world. But gritting his teeth, he continued on, moving as fast as his feet could carry him.

Thonavar ran on but a thick cloud of smoke loomed ahead, obscuring his vision. As he watched, the fog seemed to be spread out rapidly, completely engulfing the pathway before him, totally obscuring his vision. The fog continued to grow in height and length, rising up before him. Thonavar entered the fog and proceeded cautiously. After several minutes, he emerged, shaking tendrils of mist still clinging to his body.

Before him stood a massive structure of darkly majestic proportions. Thonavar crouched behind a small heap of collected rubbish and looked up in awe. Turrets and spires grew out of the main building and large fortifications could be seen on each armored side of the building. Magnetically powered elevators moved silently on vertical and horizontal trajectories up and down the side of the structure and across its face, like the outer bloodstream of the living building. A multitude of lights dotted the building from the bottom to the very top, glowing faintly, like a thousand eyes.

The old citadel, thought Thonavar, as he looked upon the first of many fortresses built across HavenGuarde by those that had first set foot upon the land.

The citadel was a tall building, and the uppermost parts of the citadel stretched into the lower levels of city above. It was an impressive sight to behold. Thonavar tried to estimate the number of floors by counting the lights but lost count at a hundred and forty-three.

Leading up to the building was a cavernous mouth of an entrance and before that stretched a long avenue. At the end of the long avenue, several flights of steps led upwards to the entrance of the building. Statues lined the left and right sides of the long avenue, standing on opposite sides in perfect uniformity, each statue depicting, with remarkable detail, figures of world history and of legend.

The Avenue of Kings, thought Thonavar to himself. He had been here with mother and father before. Images of red carpets and large cheering crowds throwing colourful flowers appeared in his mind. It had been on the day of the Jubilee. That was a long time ago.

He moved cautiously toward the long avenue, careful to keep within the shadows cast by each statue. As he approached the end of the avenue, he saw, between two enormously thick pillars of stone, a blackened archway. Written in the middle of the archway before him were the words: The Avenue of Kings.

He needed to look for the statue of the weeping woman. He darted to the nearest statue as quickly as he could, heart pounding in his chest. He looked up at the giant statue above but saw that it was not a statue of a woman. The trouble was that, in the darkness, it was difficult to make out the statue's face or pose. Further, Thonavar dared not step out of the shadows for fear of being seen or caught by someone. But he knew that he had to take a chance. He looked around and waited. The avenue was deathly silent and deserted. But Thonavar had a nagging feeling that he was not alone. Sudden movement! He spun around ready to fight. A large rat scurried past him before disappearing into a crevice in the base of a nearby statue.

His thoughts suddenly jumped to his father and mother. Not now, he muttered to himself. He had a task to complete and did not wish to be distracted by such thoughts. However, he could not help but wonder if they were safe for it was most certain that once he had been identified as Alexis' attacker, the prison wardens would come by their dwelling seeking Thonavar out. Thonavar's hands curled into fists at the thought of his father and mother at the hands of the wardens and at the mercy of their cruel methods of extracting information. He had no choice now but to trust what the hooded stranger had instructed.

Taking a deep breath, he made a run for the statue closest to him. As he did so, the moon emerged from behind darkened clouds and seemed to hang over HavenGuarde. For a second, the entire avenue was illuminated by moonlight.

There!

In but a moment of moonlight, Thonavar's sharp eyes picked out a single statue situated toward the end of the avenue shaped like a woman. As he approached the statue, he saw that it depicted a woman with hands covering her face, with head and face downcast. This must be the statue of the weeping woman.

He looked around to see if there was anyone but all seemed clear. A light rain began to fall from the construct sky hanging above HavenGuarde. But anxious as he was to ensure he had found the right statue, Thonavar continued to study the statue of the weeping woman, weeping tiny raindrops now, it seemed. It was slightly eerie. There was an air of the supernatural in this place. Thonavar half expected the statues to come alive.

There was still no one in sight and Thonavar was beginning to feel uneasy. The hair on arms had started to bristle again and the same feeling he had moments ago of being watched returned with full force. He was seldom wrong about it. His mind was alert now. Yet, with each passing moment, Thonavar became more and more uneasy, glancing to his left, then to his right, then behind him.

Something gripped his arm, tightly to the point of pain. Thonavar tried to pull away but the vice-like grip was too strong.

A voice spoke into the darkness.

"Thonavar Ironhand. There you are."