Book 3, Chapter 41 - Fishmongers Borough (2/2)
However the terrain and environment shifted, they knew the way. Like homing pigeons, they could pick out the mountains they called home no matter where they floated to. It was safe to say that without them, there would be no Fishmonger’s Borough. They were reliable, safe, and integral to life here. Since the sandsharks that traveled outside were mostly under the city’s control, they had a stranglehold on the one way in. It was an ingenious method of keeping them safe.
Autumn was overjoyed at feeling the sun on her skin once again. She desperately clawed the mask off her face and took deep, grateful breaths of the clean air. However, while comparatively clear of sand there was still dust abound. She quickly paid for her impatience with a series of coughs. Soon, though, she recovered, and her watery eyes leveled on a scene that left her speechless.
Hundreds of sandsharks surfed the quicksand. Everywhere she looked they charged ahead, leaving plumes of fine sand in their wakes. Schools of them moved together like salmon fighting upstream, and all of them headed toward the mountains ahead. It was nothing short of incredible to witness.
Eventually the small party reached the foot of the small mountain range. Upon arrival, the specifics of the city were clearer to them. For instance, the upper regions and lower regions were each unique. The higher elevations rose like castle spires, making a naturally-forming fortress. At its base were scores of caverns, with hundred more sandsharks shuttling back and forth.
The sandsharks guided them through a tunnel several hundred meters long.
Autumn was still discovering the world outside her valley, and the more she discovered the more surreal it all seemed. Fishmonger’s Borough was like an anthill. The city was a series of tunnels and caverns, carved and repurposed throughout the interior of the mountain. Natural dens and burrows were converted into homes. Crude suspension bridges crisscrossed the empty spaces between them.
The caverns weren’t dark as one might expect, but what was curious was how it was light. Wood fires were rare, and most of the light came from fuel lanterns. Fuel was, of course, a rare and expensive commodity in the wastelands. What’s more, getting any resources into the city had to be an arduous process. However, this didn’t seem to affect the city in the least. Electric lights kept it bright as day even in the bowels of the mountain.
This was Fishmonger’s Borough?
As they passed through the city they saw its populace coming and going. Most, of course, were wastelanders judging by their garb.
One the sandsharks carried them inside, they made their way to an underground lake and stopped. Water was the motivating force that made the sandsharks run so quickly through the quicksand. The accumulation here was like a feast for them.
“These are probably their breeding grounds. There must be a thousand sandsharks in this lake, and more coming. Incredible, what a way to get around. No wonder Fishmonger’s Borough is so successful.”
Fishmonger’s Borough was a model wastelander settlement, in many ways.
Built in a mountain, it was peppered with a combination of ancient machinery and jerry-rigged tech. Rusty pipes slithered along the mountain walls like old arteries, while stuttering machines powered lifts. The sound of engines and squealing metal was everywhere, lit by electric lights of all sorts of colors all over the walls.
Cloudhawk turned to speak to the old man. “Well here we are, chief. Fishmonger’s Borough. Why were you so eager to get here? If you need help let me know and I’d be happy to do what I can. Call it a favor.”
“Oy, plying people for favors is my shtick.” The old man pulled out the cork of his final bottle of wine. “My business is my own, don’t you worry about it. But seeing as you kept me stocked with booze for the trip, feel free to ask me whatever you like about the city. I’ll share whatever I can.”
Autumn immediately took him up on the offer. “I came here to find something. If you have reliable information then I need to know. This item is here somewhere, in the city. Where would be the best place to start looking?”
“Fishmonger’s Borough has the largest black market in these parts. There’s nothing you can’t find there. If whatever you’re looking for is still here, that’s where you’re most likely to find it. Check the showroom.” The old man paused to polish off the bottle of wine. “Try your luck there.”
“Thank you, grandfather!”
Autumn continued to ask several more questions, and the old drunkard gave willingly of all he knew.
“Alright, all that needs be said has been said. Here’s where we part ways, I have my own business to deal with.”
The old man irreverently flung the empty wine bottle into the quicksand, gathered up his cane, and hobbled away.
He was leaving, just like that? Cloudhawk was still filled with questions. What was this old man’s connection to this place? But they weren’t important right now. What he needed to know was when the Crimson One was supposed to arrive. Autumn’s little quest also needed to be seen to. After all, Cloudhawk was counting on making the rich woman’s pockets significantly lighter.
“Okay. Off we go.”
Cloudhawk lead Autumn away from the subterranean lake shore and into the wharf. There they found a lift that would bring them to the city. As they rose up and away from the docks, the veil of mystery hiding this unusual wasteland city was pulled away and revealed to the travelers.
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