by Drew Wagar
It was huge, towering above the ship as they approached. Beyond they could see buildings, far grander than anything that existed on Amar or anywhere else the crew had travelled. They were wrapped in a mist that was rolling down from the hills surrounding the bay. Towers and minarets poked upwards, seeming almost to hover in the fog. The buildings came right down to the sea and they could make out docks and quays that dwarfed anything at Amaris or the Scattered Isles.
‘The ships they could dock here,’ Coran whispered. ‘That quay there, it has to be nearly a mark long!’
‘Cranes and warehouses for unloading,’ Mel said, pointing along the coastline. ‘Enormous …’
The Mobilis moved under the bridge. Their conversation failed again as they watched the huge structure loom overhead. It was intimidating, dark and mysterious. A gust of wind rocked the ship and a gentle swirl rolled it back the other way. Close up they could see that the bridge too, in the manner of all the ancients’ wonders, was made of metal. Corrosion had turned much of it an ugly brown mess, with stains from time immemorial running down the rocks. In other places vegetation had taken hold, with the tell-tale tangles of green running throughout the exposed edifice. Here and there a beam or strut had broken and Lacaille’s light shone through the damaged superstructure, but the vast strength and durability of the bridge remained evident.
‘It must be hundreds of rounds old … and yet it still stands,’ Meru whispered.
‘I’m thinking we’ve found Dynesia,’ Coran said. ‘But I’d say it was abandoned, no lights, no ships about their business. Just keep an eye out for the natives. Mel, that quay to the sunward, looks a likely place to moor. Take us in.’
The Mobilis passed under the bridge and turned to the left again, coming into a series of smaller quays. Meru could see mooring posts along one side.
Wonder how long it’s been since a ship tied up here?
Mel deftly brought the Mobilis up against them and with a thrust of reverse on the engines brought the ship to a standstill. Daf and Creg leapt off from the bow and the stern, quickly securing the ship with the ropes. Mel shut down the engines and flipped off the circuit breakers for the ‘tricity.
Coran stepped on to the quay with Meru behind him, looking around. The quay was empty for the most part, shrouded in a thin mist. Behind them the bridge looked astonishing, now a burning red glowing framework illuminated by the light of Lacaille. Save for the faint breeze, there was no sound at all.
Fitch turned up with Mel, handing a rifle to each of them.
‘Six shots remember? Don’t waste ‘em.’
A faint breeze shifted the mist for a moment. They could see a dock, a harbour, buildings and dwellings. Everything was ruined and broken down. Meru could see rusted machinery, devices with wheels, cogs and levers, sitting forlornly in the mist, unmoving, like grotesque pieces of artwork. Each machine was designed to do something; pumping, moving, lifting
Behind the dock area, buildings rose away from the coast all around them, tall, austere and forbidding. There was no evidence of people at all. A layer of dust, dirt and fine rubble coated the quay under their boots.
‘Daf, Creg?’ Coran called. ‘Guard the ship. The rest of you with me. We’re going to take a look around.’
Led by Coran, the rest of the crew slowly and cautiously walked into the city. The first building they came to seemed to be some kind of meeting place, with a large airy interior that must have once held large glass windows looking out across the harbour towards the bridge.
The roof was gone and the walls crumbling. Coran looked inside, but it was pitch black, with a faint smell he recognised but was unable to place straight away. He knelt down and looked more closely. The floor was littered with debris. He could make out bits of tables, cutlery, plates. A venue for eating perhaps? Everything was overturned and covered in weeds and brambles. Then he recognised the smell; smoke and ashes.
It was burnt and charred wood, timbers from the roof apparently. Everything inside had been destroyed by fire, as if it had been torched. Coran led them out and went to another building, it was the same there and in the next. In fact in every single building it was the same pattern.
‘Burnt and pillaged,’ Mel whispered, looking inside another dwelling.
In the streets outside there was evidence of shops and markets, with a few broken carts and stalls around. All smashed, broken and half burnt. They could make out places where some of the items from inside the house had spilt out into the streets, as if the people who had lived here had panicked and run.
Coran joined her, having come out of one of the larger buildings in the centre of the settlement.
‘Looks like a fire swept through here,’ he said.
‘It’s the same in these houses,” Mel said. ‘Nothing is left, everything has been burnt.’
‘All gone,’ Fitch added.
‘Let’s keep looking,’ Coran said. ‘Stay alert.’
They walked down the streets, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the silent walls. Everywhere were the marks of fire, buildings with ghostly empty windows, scorch marks and half-burnt debris around. Here and there they encountered carts and wagons, but they were all damaged, overturned or smashed. Nothing was intact.
‘What happened here?’ Mel asked, ‘Where did the people go?’
‘Impossible to tell,’ Meru said, subdued. ‘Everything seems to have been left in a hurry, just dumped. Did the witches of Drayden attack this place?’
‘Just looks like a place that was put to the torch in a war,’ Fitch offered. ‘No need for your furlin’ ghost stories. You don’t really believe that rot about witches, do you?’
‘I’ll convince you one of these days,’ Coran replied with a laugh.
They came to what might have once been a market square, as the buildings bordering it were much more impressive, some with columns and second storeys, with grand flights of stairs leading to their entrances. The centre of the square was paved, though, once again, weeds had encroached on much of it.
They walked up to the main building, looking at the columns. They too were blackened and scorched, but being so strong they had remained intact. The doorway was vast and they could see the remains of the doors, still hanging on big hinges. They had been smashed open.
It was dark inside and the smell of burning was still strong. Once again, the roof had collapsed, littering the interior with debris, but the function of the building was clear. Here and there were piles of rotten paper, parchments and scrolls. All were mouldy and unreadable, some had deteriorated beyond recognition, but here and there a few had escaped the ravages of time and had small fragments of readable printed text.
‘A library,’ Meru whispered. ‘This must have been a library!’
‘Who would burn a library?’ Mel wondered. ‘Why destroy such a place?’
Fitch had been wandering around the perimeter of the room, he gestured at the walls, poking and prodding them. The plaster cracked and crumbled away to reveal the structure beyond.
‘Wires,’ he noted. ‘They had ‘tricity here, sure enough.’
They left the library behind, lost in their thoughts. Before long they came to a wall and followed a path along it for several paces until they came to the twisted remains of a gate. It had once been a grand affair, a dozen men wide, hanging on large metal hinges. One gate remained erect, but battered, the other was just beyond the wall, overgrown with more vegetation.
Fitch looked carefully at the gate and the metal work.
‘Been rammed by something, look at the dents. This took a proper pounding.’
Meru saw several metal objects hidden in the undergrowth, carefully he pulled one up. He didn’t recognise it immediately, but the rusted outline of a long blade became obvious as the dirt was scrapped away from it.
‘Weapons …’
‘Aye,’ Coran said, unslinging his rifle and venturing past the gate.
Fitch gestured to take a look at the rusty blade and Meru handed it t
o him.
‘It’s a park, a garden,’ Mel said, looking about her as they walked inside. ‘At least it was …’
Meru had to agree with her. It was an overgrown mess, but there were occasional statues and evidence of previous well-kept pathways under their feet. They pushed past creepers and vines as they ventured in.
There was a small clearing ahead, with what must have once been a fountain of some kind. It was dry within, the water it once contained having long since evaporated. Meru could see a collection of objects in the bottom. He climbed into the fountain to get a closer look.
They were rusty bits of metal. For a moment he assumed they were coins, but then he realised they were not circular but more triangular. He bent to pick one up. It was jammed in the dirt, but with a twist it came loose. He looked closely at it.
‘An arrowhead,’ he said, looking at Mel gloomily. ‘Loads of them. There must have been a battle here.’
The far side of the fountain was obscured by a wall, overgrown with plants as everywhere else. Coran pushed forward, gingerly prodding back the clinging foliage.
Meru saw him stop and straighten slowly.
‘What is it?’
Coran didn’t answer. Meru and the others joined him, peering around the captain’s burly body.
Meru gasped. There were blackened shapes, collections of them spread-eagled across the crumbling remains of the wall, shapes that were vaguely familiar.
‘They almost look like …’ Mel stopped and let out a short screech of fright.
There were bones, blackened bones, skulls and rib-cages, tattered strips of clothing. Dozens of them. Some were smaller than others, some were tiny …
Mel’s hand went to her mouth with a gasp. Coran knelt down and gently pushed the undergrowth back. More skeletons were revealed, with dozens of arrowheads strewn across their bodies. The skeletons were packed into a corner, their owners apparently huddled trying to escape some terror.
‘Slaughtered …’ he whispered. ‘No weapons here, they were unarmed. Men, women and children, executed. Then burnt …’
Meru struggled for a moment to stop himself from vomiting, his stomach felt sick to the core. He swallowed, taking deep breaths.
‘Who would do such a thing?’ Mel asked, aghast.
‘I can answer that.’
Fitch stood a little way behind them.
‘How so?’ Coran asked.
Fitch held up the blade Meru had found. Fitch had used a stone to rub the rust away from the blade of the weapon. Meru could see the faint gleam of the metal underneath the corrosion.
Fitch handed it to Coran who looked it over briefly and let out a short breath.
‘As we thought.’
Fitch nodded.
‘What?’ Meru and Mel demanded in unison.
Coran turned the blade to the light of Lacaille. A glint of red reflected from it.
‘See the marking? We’ve seen this before.’
Meru and Mel peered closely at the cleaned blade. Down at the base, where the hilt would have connected to a wooden pommel at some point in the distant past was a decoration. It was slightly ornate, but instantly recognisable. A symbol with a short base and two long sides meeting at a point. The isosceles triangle.
‘Drayden!’ Meru said.
‘Just like Nireus in the stories,’ Mel whispered. ‘Razed to the ground. Destroyed.’
‘No need for witches,’ Fitch said. ‘These were soldiers.’
Coran straightened and looked about him.
‘We’d better get back to the ship. Those savages may not be far away. Best not to be caught here in the open.’
They remained subdued all the way to the Mobilis, thoughts of what they had seen and the silence of the city preying on their minds. Daf and Creg were waiting for them, reporting that all was quiet at the quay.
‘Some must have escaped,’ Mel said, after a long pause whilst the crew sat on the decks of the Mobilis, looking out across the bay and the blood red bridge behind them.
‘And they must have put up a fight somewhere,’ Meru added.
‘I’d guess they’d already lost by this point,’ Coran said heavily. ‘I see no place for soldiers to be stationed here. There are no fortifications. The city wasn’t prepared for a war, it wasn’t invaded, it was purged. We’ve found homes, town halls and a library. The people here were exterminated.’
Fitch looked up abruptly, looking quickly around the quay and unslinging his rifle.
‘What is it?’ Coran whispered.
‘We’re being watched,’ Fitch replied, looking down the length of the quay towards the ruined buildings on the shoreline. ‘Get yourselves back on the ship and keep talking as if everything is fine and dandy.’
Fitch jumped off the Mobilis and moved swiftly into the narrow streets adjacent to the quay, quickly disappearing from sight.
‘So, we’ll be out of here in no time then?’ Coran said loudly, looking at Meru and Mel expectantly.
‘Oh …er … aye, Captain,’ Mel replied. ‘Just as soon as you give the word.’
‘Ready to cast off,’ Meru added.
‘Might be sensible to get the accumulators charging anyway,’ Coran said. Mel nodded and headed aft to the engine room.
Coran turned to look at the bridge once more.
‘Seems like our history is a sad tale for the most part, young Meru,’ Coran said. ‘And who’s to say what else we might find …’
There was a yelp from a little way up the quay and Fitch emerged, dragging a thin looking man with him. The man was tanned dark, with a ragged grey beard, dressed in animal hides. One of the natives Meru had spotted on the rocky escarpment. He was old, his skin wrinkled and hanging on his bones.
Fitch yanked him down towards the Mobilis. It was clear the man was scared, but he stood defiantly upright. Fitch pushed him towards Coran and then stood back, guarding him with the rifle.
‘There was a pair,’ Fitch said. ‘Other one ran like fury. Guess we might have some company ’fore long.’
The man looked around at him, some surprise evident on his face. Coran stepped forward, with both his hands raised.
‘We’re not going to hurt you.’ Coran kept his voice low and even.
The man looked him up and down and then waved out towards the bridge.
‘Sea? Sea?’
Coran nodded. ‘We came across the sea.’
‘Gone. Sea. Long-time. No come back.’
Coran nodded. ‘Long-time.’
‘You come caves?’ The man pointed eagerly past the bridge, he sounded hopeful. ‘Far up the river? The ghosts? Ack Sesh Kood?’
‘Ack Sesh Kood?’ Coran repeated, with a frown. ‘What are you saying?’
The man nodded vigorously. ‘Ack Sesh Kood, the ghosts, the caves! You come from the caves?’
‘Not the caves,’ Coran answered. ‘Sea.’
The man looked disappointed, but then nodded. ‘No caves. Sea. Only sea. Not ghosts …’
Coran pointed to the city. ‘What happened here?’
The man seemed unwilling to look up at the buildings, but kept his head down and shuffled his feet.
‘Dead city. Burned. Darkness from the shaderight. Dark days. Pain and curses.’ The words stuttered out of the man, as if unfamiliar and hard for him to say.
Mel jumped up on the deck taking in the sight of the strange man that Coran was conversing with.
‘Accumulators are charging up, we can go when you’re …’
At the sound of her voice the man started emitting a strange keening sound, his body shuddering and trembling violently. He looked up, his eyes bright and wide with terror, their whites dazzling in his dark features as he took in her face and blonde hair.
An arm came up, pointing directly at Mel. The keening became a scream that echoed around the empty city streets.
‘Witch!’
With his other hand he reached into his hide and withdrew a knife, lurching forward at Mel. She jumped backwards as he charged her.
Coran blocked him and pushed him back whereupon Fitch dealt him a sharp blow with the butt of his rifle. The man’s scream became a gurgle and he slumped to the quay, unconscious.
Meru saw that Mel’s face had gone pale. Coran grabbed her arm.
‘You all right?’
She nodded, swallowing.
Fitch prodded the man with his foot and then bent down, taking the knife from him. It was crude and poorly made. Fitch chucked it aside.
‘I’m guessing that we don’t have any more doubts about what happened here then?’ Coran said.
‘The witches of Drayden,’ Meru said, giving Fitch a glare.
‘All right, all right,’ Fitch muttered testily.
Meru looked at Mel. ‘He was terrified at the mere sight of you. No hesitation, he wanted to kill you.’
‘We’ve seen enough,’ Coran said. ‘All aboard. Let’s get away from here before …’
Faint yells erupted around them. The crew looked about them, not seeing any immediate movement …
Fitch yanked Meru aside as a spear came hurtling through the place he’d been standing.
‘Cast off! Double time!’ Coran yelled to Daf and Creg as more spears came sailing through the air. The two big men ran forward and aft, swiftly yanking at the ropes which bound the ship to the quay.
Mel had retreated back aboard too.
‘Meru, get to the wheelhouse,’ she called. ‘Throw her into reverse!’
Meru nodded and dived aboard as the spears clattered about them, one smashed close by as he scaled the ladder to the helm controls. A brief glance almost froze him to the spot.
Hundreds of men were pouring out of the city, running towards the quay, brandishing spears and throwing them as they came in range. They were like the first, old, grey-bearded and bedraggled, but furious. Their yells became a tumultuous roar of noise.
Snuts! We’re going to be scorched!
Fitch was still on the quay, calmly and methodically raising his rifle to his shoulder. He took aim and fired.
Meru heard the bang from his vantage point and saw one of the natives fall immediately, stone dead. Fitch reloaded and fired again. Another man dropped. Meru heard the snapping click as Fitch reloaded a third time.