by Drew Wagar
Got to decide!
The creature was real, the smoke was lost. He turned shaderight and headed in the direction the creature had disappeared.
Spells passed, chimes passed. He had to be well into the sleeping now. Lacaille blazed in the sky the same as ever. Weariness was beginning to overcome him and his stomach was rumbling. Aboard the Bethany there would have been a meal as they sailed back home, which would have been cleared away by the time they arrived in the harbour as the sleeping was chimed out by the big bells on the cliffs around the bay. Unloading the fish would have taken a little more time and then everyone would have headed home or down to the taverns before turning in. Mayura was due, marking the beginning of the pass. There would be celebrations in Amar.
The Bethany would now be overdue. Lookouts atop the cliffs would have been using spyglasses to look out to sea in order to locate them. When that failed volunteers would have been sought to go out looking, but they wouldn’t sail out of sight of land. A missing ship was a bad omen and the sailors were a superstitious lot. There was no way they would find him. If Meru was going to survive, he was going to have to manage it himself.
Meru stopped, resting for a moment, trying to ease the aching in his limbs, letting his legs dangle down into the sea and catching his breath.
There was still no sign of anything on the horizon, but he had been heartened by the sight of some clouds bubbling up in the sky in the direction he was heading, that might mean land. It was all he had.
He closed his eyes and rested his head on the planks, waiting for a few moments to recover his strength.
For a moment all was still.
A faint vibration thrummed through the planks beneath him.
Meru opened his eyes in surprise. It was a curious rhythmic feeling, as if something was rapidly playing a deep bass drum far away and down in the depths of the sea. The impossibility of that made him smile briefly, before curiosity got the better of him.
It was faint, he could only hear it when he pressed his ear against the planks of the wood he was holding on to, but it was there, faint, but steady. Concentrating, he could also feel the faintest sensation of pulsing in his legs. It was something in the sea making the noise.
Carefully he eased himself into the water, holding on to the debris with one hand, before ducking his head underwater.
The sound was now clear. A constant beating, over and over again, pulsing in his ears. Meru turned in the water, trying to get a bearing on where the sound was coming from. As he tried the sound slowed, faded and stopped. He listened as hard as he could, but there was nothing. Whatever it was had stopped. He looked about him under the water, but he couldn’t see anything within the blurred limits of his vision.
Meru burst back to the surface, clambering up on the debris and catching his breath once more. There was no telling what strange creatures might be lurking in the depths below. Very occasionally fleshy tentacled creatures had washed up on the beaches of Amar, but none had ever been alive, they’d been only half-rotted carcasses.
If something was stalking him, there wasn’t much he could do. His hand fell to his knife instinctively. It felt reassuring in his hand, but he knew it was a pitiful weapon with which to face any fearsome denizen of the deep.
Rested, he began kicking his way shaderight again. The clouds were slowly building up in the sky before him and he decided to keep moving for a spell or thereabouts, counting upwards in his head. He’d not got further than a few dozen when the strange vibration returned, stronger now.
He stopped kicking and ducked his head underwater to listen.
This time there was another sound accompanying the repetitive thumping, a low keening, so deep as to be almost inaudible. A long drawn out groan, loud enough for him to pinpoint it. It was directly ahead of him.
Coming to the surface he heard squawks and cries and saw a flock of the flying reptiles circling in the distance, rapidly drawing closer to him. There were dozens of them. One he felt he could handle, a flock of the things might be more of a problem. He unclipped his knife from his belt and stayed low in the water.
The cries of the reptiles drew ever closer. Without warning, the surface of the sea erupted in a blast of spray. Horrified, Meru saw enormous fleshy tentacles writhe in the air. He caught sight of hundreds of pulsating suckers on the underparts before they crashed back into the sea with an enormous splash.
Meru climbed up on to the debris as a dark shadowy mass swept beneath him at prodigious speed. The debris turned about underneath him as eddies swirled in the wake of the huge creature’s passing. He turned to look in the other direction.
His mouth fell open with surprise and delight.
A ship!
Bearing down on him at an unbelievable rate was a ship, the likes of which he’d never seen before. It’s hull was dark and tarnished, stained with what looked like rust. It had an upswept bow and a narrow beam. Meru stared in disbelief, his eyes wide with shock.
Metal? A metal ship?
But it was the bow wave before it that really caught Meru’s practiced eye. Water was frothing away from it and the ship was almost leaping the undulating waves it encountered. The thumping noise was all around now, it seemed to be coming from the ship itself.
Sails? What …
Meru could see the ship had masts and what at first glance looked like sails. They weren’t canvas though. They were dark, light shining through them. As the ship came on Meru could see they were made of a what looked to be a fine net of dark string. Whatever the ship was powered by, it certainly wasn’t the wind. What looked like lightning was crackling across the strange sails, sparks flying and flickering around it. He stared in shock and amazement as the ship came on, hurtling towards him. He could see a bright frothy wake behind it, water churning violently at its stern as if boiled by some enormous fire.
It was heading straight towards him.
He staggered up, trying to wave as best he could, shouting as the ship bore down on him. The bow towered above him and he threw himself into the sea as the ship crunched into the wooden remnants of the Bethany, shattering them asunder and sending the pieces flying.
He hit the water, instinctively driving himself deeper under the surface. A current surged past and spun him around. He caught sight of the hull as it swept past him as fast as a herg could gallop on land. The vibration grew to crescendo as it came close and then, just as quickly, faded away as it passed. Meru caught sight of two circular blades at the stern, one of which was whirling at a dizzying speed, churning the water into a great mass of bubbles and froth.
He burst back to the surface, shouting and waving at the ship as it sped on its way.
‘Hey! Ship! Over here!’
The vibration slowed, the wake at the rear of the ship subsiding in moments and the vessel losing way as it turned. Meru saw people emerge from a bridge set towards the middle of the ship. They headed towards the bow, looking down the sides of the ship as they went. Meru could see portholes and panels alongside its flank.
Perhaps they heard the impact …
Meru shouted and waved again, swimming towards the ship. One of the figures saw him and pointed. The others quickly gathered. Meru could hear voices, raised and arguing. He kept swimming.
The ship was less than a hundred hands away when the water erupted again, tentacles writhing out of the sea, slapping the surface and pummelling into the air. One flailed near him and he felt it touch his legs, instantly wrapping itself around him.
Meru felt himself yanked into the air, the sea dropping away below him with dizzying speed, the tentacle tightening around him, cutting off his breath. The ship was below him for a moment before the tentacle crashed back into the sea, dragging him beneath the waves. He came to the surface just as abruptly, as the enormous creature surfaced before him.
A huge maw, ringed with teeth tinged with the rotting remains of untold other sea life opened in front of him. A low moan, loud enough to make the surface of the water vibrate around
him, echoed out of the chasm, accompanied by a stench vile enough to turn the stoutest stomach.
Meru struggled, but the tentacle wrapped further about him. He was spun around as it coiled again and again, drawing him closer and closer to the gaping orifice.
He screamed as he was lifted above it, feeling the coils loosen around him. He was just waiting to be dropped into the rings and rings of menacing curved teeth, to be consumed in the creature’s stomach, dragged down in the depths of the sea.
He heard a gruff voice shouting orders and then …
‘Fitch! Now!’
A howl of noise came from behind him, a thunderous roar that echoed off the ocean. A stream of smoke and flame blistered past in an instant and then a tumultuous explosion ripped the creature to pieces in front of Meru’s astonished eyes.
A split second later a wave of burning air hit him, tossing him high amidst the spiralling blood-splattered remnants of the tentacled creature. He flipped completely over in the air, crashing down into the sea.
The terrifying unfamiliar darkness took him once again.
CHAPTER THREE
Serenia, Coastal town in Scallia
Round 2305, Twentieth Pass
She walked idly across the fields. The sky was blue and clear. A marsip scurried away from her in surprise, squeaking its protest. She smiled and continued. Ahead the cool forest of shades beckoned; there would be shelter from the heat.
The forest seemed the same as ever, with Lacaille high in the sky behind it, a glorious warm smooth orb of light, unchanging and steady.
She frowned. Something was up there, something different. A black mark had appeared at the edge of the unchanging sphere. She stood, rooted to the spot as the dark patch expanded, swiftly eating into the shimmering surface. A sense of impending doom settled around her like a heavy shroud.
A sudden breeze was cold and chill. Flecks of white swarmed through the air, freezing her wherever they touched her skin.
The blackness grew, consuming the warm light of the sun. She stared in horror and incomprehension as the blackness became complete. An intolerable darkness. She heard animals squawk, squeak and howl in fear around her.
Impossibly tiny points of light appeared in the firmament above, Lacaille now a sinister black emptiness in the sky, ringed with fire. A fire that seemed to reach down from the heavens …
A ripple of hot air reached her, with the faint hint of wood smoke. To her horror she saw the forest before her erupt into flame.
Fire cascaded across the field, instantly kindling the dry stalks. Flames rose, the intense heat forcing her back. She turned to flee, running until her legs hurt with exertion; she could feel the ground beneath her burning hot, her clothes smouldering. She couldn’t outrun the flames!
She smelt burning flesh, her clothes bursting into flame. She screamed as the agony began …
Zoella screeched and sat up abruptly, her eyes wide with fear. She was gasping for breath. For a moment she could still feel the flames before the sweat that drenched her body suddenly cooled and she shivered. Her head was sore, a headache flashing and pulsing across her temple.
She was wrapped in her blankets, atop her sleeping mat, same as ever. She threw the blankets off. Staggering for balance she jumped up, smoothing down her smock. It was damp and clingy with sweat. She rested against the window sill and pushed back the shutters. She remembered when she had to stretch to push them open, but she was taller now, she had grown a lot in the last few rounds. Bright light greeted her, forcing her to squint for a moment.
As her eyes adjusted she looked across the fields beyond the farm. The forest was there, whole, untouched, the tall shades angling towards the bright light of Lacaille as they always had. Her gaze travelled upwards, looking into sky. Lacaille shone, a huge perfect smooth orb of glowing reassuring warmth. It had always hung over the forest. Nothing had changed. No blackness, no fire.
That dream again …
She rubbed her brow trying to ease the ache, shivering as the sweat evaporated from her. Quickly she splashed her face with water from a trough placed against the wall, rubbing her eyes to clear them. She’d better hurry; she could already hear the hergs lowing in the fields, it wouldn’t do to give Tarq a reason to be in a bad mood.
She left the room and rushed down the narrow stone stairway at the side of the house, her feet pattering on the worn stones. She emerged into the hall, relieved to find it deserted. The fireplace was ash cold and empty. She looked up, seeing dust motes floating through light shining from a small hole in the room. Her fingers traced across rough wooden trestle tables, feeling the nicks and dents from constant use. She sniffed in distaste at the various stuffed animal heads decorating the walls. She walked around a puddle on the floor where water had dripped from a small leak in the roof. It must have rained during the sleeping.
That will need to be fixed before …
Zoella paused and looked around in surprise. There was no one else there. Shalla would catch merry hell if the fire wasn’t roaring by the time Tarq appeared. It was a feast stretch and according to the rumours the hall was expecting some important guests before long. Zoella wasn’t privy to information on who they were, but they were sufficiently important for Tarq to have been unusually attentive to the appearance of the hall and the victualing of its store cupboards and larders. A number of heavily loaded wagons dragged by unwilling hergs had arrived the stretch before, being unloaded by the youngsters of the household under the watchful eye of the cooks. Rumour had it that emissaries from the King would be passing through, having traipsed all the way from the capital city of Viresia.
Good. The first chime hasn’t rung …
Zoella wondered where Shalla was. She should have been here with the kindling by now. Zoella grabbed a quarter of slightly stale bread and poured herself a small cup of chai. It was a spicy, yet comforting drink, though Zoella preferred it warmed through. This was clearly left over from the previous stretch.
Shalla still hadn’t appeared.
Probably planning some stupid trick.
Zoella was just about to walk outside into the courtyard when Raga walked into the hall and growled at her, shaking his head and briefly flapping his mane forward, fanning the air with the wing-like appendages aside his neck. An old carn now, Raga had once been Tarq’s hunting pack lead. Tarq had younger beasts for the hunt now leaving Raga to mope around the grounds, wistfully watching the pack when his master rode a herg across the fields.
Zoella remembered how she’d been chosen to feed Raga that stretch. It was a terrifying prospect. Raga was furious at having been superseded in the hunt. He’d killed one of the servant boys, ripping him to pieces and eating him here in the hall for having the temerity to touch him without permission, such was his wrath and fury at the perceived insult. Zoella shivered as she remembered how Tarq had laughed. Carns were strong and fearsome beasts, standing six hands high at the shoulders, with long powerful legs, sabre teeth and a bite that could crush bone. They were fast too; faster than folks, faster than hergs.
Shalla and the others had grinned their satisfaction with Zoella’s assignment, hoping to see her killed, or maimed at the very least.
But Raga hadn’t attacked her. As she approached, the carn had bowed its great head, allowing Zoella to see the third eye set in the middle of its skull, equidistant between the ears. The third eye was usually kept open, but stared upwards blindly, unblinking, unmoving, apparently unused.
Zoella had stretched out her hand. Raga growled softly, but then settled down on all fours, submitting to her. She remembered feeling so sorry for him. She had placed a finger on his immense muzzle …
Anger, betrayal, loneliness, hurt …
She’d retreated almost immediately, startled. The carn had looked up at her, blinking its big eyes and fluttering its mane forward. Zoella had thrown the diced raw herg meat to Raga and he’d taken it, slinking off outside to eat.
And ever since that stretch Raga had done his best to protec
t her against the ploys and tricks the other youths tried to play on her.
Zoella turned to look at the old carn, now completely white around the muzzle. He padded across and rubbed his big head affectionately against her leg. She dropped her hand down and stroked him, fondling his big ears. The carn growled deep in its throat and closed its eyes.
Zoella caught a sense of warning from the contact and got an impression of people crouched in hiding somewhere. The picture was clear enough for her to understand what Raga had seen.
Shalla! She knows I have to go out early.
Raga growled as Zoella thought about Shalla. Zoella threw him his meat and then scaled the stairs again, running back to her room. Quickly, she climbed on to the window sill and looked down into the courtyard. Sure enough she could see Shalla and one of the younger boys crouched on either side of the entrance. Both were holding a bucket filled to the brim with slop from the stables, clearly waiting for her to emerge.
Zoella shook her head in frustration. Shalla was the eldest of the girls serving in Tarq’s household. She was the daughter of the head maid; as such she enjoyed a privileged position. Shalla didn’t have much of a reason to be antagonistic towards her, but Zoella had had to endure a near constant campaign of intimidation and abuse from the older girl. Worse, Tarq seemed to find it amusing and actively encouraged it. Zoella had lost count of the times she’d been showered in cunningly concealed excrement, tripped down the stairs after missing a hidden length of string or found her food infested with narg mites. Shalla’s repertoire was large and inventive. This trick seemed almost too simple.
I’ll have to find another way out.
There was a vine that grew at the back of the house, she’d used it before to escape from Tarq’s repulsive attention. She could reach it from the window that provided light for the stairs. Zoella silently stepped out of the room and looked through the small window at the top of the corridor facing the stairs.
A stagnant pond wrapped around the edge of the house here, with a narrow path between it and the hall. The vine was as she expected, growing up the side of the wall. It was easy to climb down from here. She could escape the hall, run around the front and round up the hergs. Shalla would never know, she might even catch trouble for not getting the fire going in time for breaking fast at the first chime. Zoella smiled to herself.