“These are elves. Do we really know what is possible for them? If they were able to get across, what would that do?”
“That would depend on where they crossed. It could wind up dividing us from Breckton’s forces in the east, or they could walk in unopposed from the south.”
“Your Eminence, I know every inch of the Bernum. I used to float goods down it from Colnora to Vernes with my brother as boys. We worked it year-round. There is no place to cross. It is as wide and deep as a lake and has a deadly current. Even in summer, without a boat, a man can’t get across. In winter it would be suicide.”
The decision was too important to base on the nightmare of a child even though her heart told her she was right. Her eyes fell on the little copper pin in the shape of a torch on Tope Entwistle’s chest. “Tell me,” she said. “What is that you are wearing on your breast?”
He glanced down and smiled self-consciously. “Sir Breckton awarded that to me for successfully lighting the fire signaling the elves’ move across the Galewyr.”
“So you actually saw the elven army?”
“Yes, Your Eminence.”
“Tell me, then, what color are the uniforms of the elves?”
He looked surprised at the question and then replied, “Blue and gold.”
“Thank you, you can leave. Go back to sleep. Get some rest.”
The scout nodded, bowed, and left the office.
“What are you thinking, Your Eminence?” the chancellor asked.
“I want word sent to Colnora to recall Breckton and his troops,” she said. “We aren’t going to survive, Nimbus. Even after everything we’ve done. They are going to break through our defenses, throw down our walls, and burst into this palace.”
Nimbus said nothing. He remained straight and calm.
“You knew that already, didn’t you?”
“I harbor few illusions, Your Eminence.”
“I won’t let my family be slaughtered—not again.”
“There is still hope,” he told her. “You have seen to that. All we can do is wait.”
“And pray.”
“If you feel that will help.”
“You don’t believe in the gods, Nimbus?”
He smiled wryly. “Oh, I most certainly believe in them, Your Eminence. I just don’t think they believe in me.”
CHAPTER 15
PERCEPLIQUIS
The Harbinger limped to shore without much dignity. Wyatt managed to create a small sail from what remained, and hoisted it to a pole he lashed to the stump of the old mast. They no longer flew across the waves; they barely drifted, but it was enough to make the far shore. Farther down the shore Royce spotted what looked to be a dock, which they avoided, and instead they anchored in at a sheltered cove. Here the beach was only a small spit of land surrounded by large blocks of broken stone, each one half the height of a man. They lay tumbled and scattered like the toys of some giant toddler after a tantrum. The stones glistened from the sea spray, and those closest to the water wore glowing beards of what looked like long stringy moss.
“What bothers me is the lack of gulls,” Wyatt said, tying off the bowline to a rock that rose out of the sand like a colossal finger. “Only a godforsaken beach is without seagulls.”
“Really?” Hadrian asked. “The gulls? I would have figured the glowing green water would have you more concerned.”
“There’s that too.”
Magnus was one of the first off the boat. He hit the sand and ran up the slope to the stone blocks, touching them with his hands as if to assure himself they were real. Royce was off next. His face had started to take on a green all its own. His elven heritage made him subject to seasickness and Hadrian recalled the days of misery his friend had spent aboard the Emerald Storm. Royce climbed to the top of a large sturdy rock and lay down. Alric and Mauvin arrived on the beach wide-eyed, looking up at the ruined stone with awe. Arista was the last off, accompanied by Myron, who held her hand. She had slept for more than two hours and still had deep shadows beneath her eyes. After reaching the beach, she turned around to view the Harbinger and a look of remorse crossed her brow.
“She’s not in much shape for a return trip,” Wyatt stated, looking at the princess. “I was thinking that maybe Elden and I ought to stay here and work on her while the rest of you fetch that horn. I could rig a few pulleys in these rocks, and with Elden’s help, I might be able to set a new mast if we manage to find something we can use for one. At the very least, I could run a jib line and reinforce the pole we have. I also think the rudder needs some work and I need to stop the leaks that opened up or she’ll sink on the way back. I have the pitch for that; I just need to make a fire and get the hull out of the water, which the tide should help with.”
“And if the Ghazel spot you?” Arista asked.
“Well, I will do my best to avoid that, but if they come around, I suppose we’ll hide among the rocks. I’m hoping that after today, we won’t be seeing any more of them for a while. Perhaps we have at least a few days before another ship arrives.
“Thing is, I’m on this trip for my sailing skills, right? I can’t handle a sword as well as a Pickering or Hadrian, and I wasn’t brought along for that, anyway. Neither was Elden. Besides, you can leave the excess gear here, and travel lighter.”
Arista nodded. She did not look strong enough to argue.
“I really didn’t mean to hit you so hard,” Hadrian told her as Arista sat down on the sand.
“What?” she asked sluggishly. “Oh no, it’s not my head. It’s just that I feel exhausted, even after sleeping. I feel like I’ve walked for miles and been up for weeks. You know better than I do—do you get that from being whacked in the head?”
“No, not really,” he replied. “It just usually throbs awhile and aches after that.”
“I feel sort of like you do when coming down with a cold—weak, tired. My mind just wanders and I can’t stay focused. It doesn’t help that anytime I sleep, I have dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“You’ll think I’m crazy,” she said, embarrassed.
“I thought that from the first time we met.”
She smirked at him. “In my dreams I’m not me—I actually think I’m Esrahaddon, only it’s years ago, before this city was destroyed, before the emperor was killed, before he was locked up.”
“That’s what you get from wearing that robe.”
She looked down. “It’s a really nice robe—very warm, and have you ever seen one that lights up for you?”
“It’s a little creepy.”
“Maybe.”
They sat in silence for a minute. Elden and Wyatt walked around the ship, looking at the hull. They were wasting no time assessing the damage. Alric and Mauvin climbed up in the rocks, exploring like children. Myron sat only a few feet away and appeared to be watching them.
Hadrian stared at the waves as they rolled ashore, splashing just beyond their feet. They would head off soon, but for now, it was good to sit on solid ground. He would nudge Royce in a bit, but he wanted to give him a few minutes. He expected dangers would be greater from that point on, and preferred Royce to be in top form.
“I should thank you,” Arista said with downcast eyes and a quiet voice, as if it were a confession.
He looked at her curiously. “For what?”
“For the crack on the head,” she replied, raising a hand to rub the spot. She took the bandage off. “Alric was right. I’d lost control.” Her hair fell across her face—an auburn curtain hiding everything but the tip of her nose. “It’s hard to explain the feeling of it—the power—it’s as if I can do anything. Can you imagine knowing you can do anything? It’s exciting, alluring—it draws you in and you want it like a hunger. You feel yourself becoming part of something bigger, joining with it, working with it. You sense every drop of water, every blade of grass, and you become them—everything—the air and the stars. You want to see how far you can go, where the edges are, only some part o
f you knows—there are no edges.
“I never did anything that big before. I spread out too far. I joined with it too much. I was losing myself, I think. It was just so amazing, feeling the world respond to me like it was a part of me, or I was a part of it. I don’t know—I wasn’t thinking anymore. I was just feeling and I don’t know what might have happened if you hadn’t…”
“Whacked you?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m just glad you aren’t mad,” he said, and meant it. “Most people I hit wake up with a slightly different attitude.”
“I suppose they do.” She pulled the curtain of hair back and tilted her head up at him. She had a self-conscious smile on her face. “I’d also like to thank you for something else.”
He looked at her once more—confused and a little worried.
“I want to thank you for not being afraid of me.”
Her hair was tangled, her face drawn and weary. She had drooping eyes and thin pale pink lips. There was a pinch of sand on the tip of her nose. Creases marked her forehead, thin lines of worry.
Is there anyone quite like her?
He fought an urge to brush the sand from her nose.
“Who says I’m not afraid of you?” he asked her.
He saw her turning that comment over in her mind and felt it was best to end the conversation before he said something stupid. He got up, dusted the sand off himself, and went looking for his pack. He had just reached the ship, where Wyatt was coiling a length of rope, when the two scouts returned.
“There’s a passage up that way,” Mauvin announced, grinning.
They came to the side of the ship, where they found their packs and, pulling out their water sacks, threw their heads back and guzzled to quench their thirst.
“It’s amazing,” Alric said, wiping the water from his beard. “There are these huge statues of lions—their paws are taller than I am! This really is Percepliquis. I want to go in. We should get going.”
“Wyatt and Elden are planning to stay here,” Hadrian told him.
“Why?” he asked, concerned and perhaps a bit annoyed.
“They plan to fix the ship while we’re gone and have it ready for us by the time we get back.”
“Oh, okay, that makes sense—good sense. That’s great. Now let’s get our stuff and get going. I’ve waited all my life to see this.” Alric and Mauvin trotted back aboard the Harbinger to find the rest of their gear.
“Kings,” Hadrian said to Wyatt with a shrug.
“Be careful,” Wyatt told him. “And keep an eye on Gaunt.”
“Gaunt?”
“You’re too trusting,” Wyatt said. He nodded to where Gaunt sat near the dwarf on a large stone slab. “He spends a lot of time with Magnus and he was unusually friendly with me and Elden, like he was buddying up with the drafted members of the party, trying to form a group of dissenters. Remember what I told you on the Emerald Storm? There’s always one member of any crew who’s looking for a mutiny.”
“And he’s our only hope,” Hadrian replied with a lilt of irony in his voice. “You’d better be careful too. As you know, the Ghazel are no joke. Keep an eye out. Don’t sleep on the ship. Don’t light any fires.”
“Trust me, I remember the arena at the Palace of the Four Winds. I have no desire to cross swords with them a second time.”
“That’s good, because this isn’t an arena and there are no rules. Out here they’ll swarm over you like an army of ants.”
“Good luck.”
“Same to you and make sure this ship is ready to sail when we get back. I’ve been on enough jobs with Royce to know that while the going in may be slow, the coming out is usually a race.”
The ruins of the city began at the water’s edge, although this was not entirely evident until they left the sand and moved inland, where they had a wider perspective. The large stone blocks were part of the broken foundation of white marble columns that had once stood a hundred feet tall. They knew this by discovering three remaining columns still upright, yet how they had managed to remain this way was bewildering, as the blocks had shifted precariously.
They found the passage Alric and Mauvin had discovered, which began at the feet of two huge lions carved from stone. Each was easily two hundred feet tall, although one was missing its head, which had fallen away. The remaining lion showed a fierce face with teeth bared and a full and flowing mane.
“The Imperial Lions,” Myron muttered as they passed under their shadow and Royce paused to light his lantern.
“I’ve seen these before,” Arista whispered, her head back, looking up at the sculptures. “In my dreams.”
“What do you know of this place, Myron?” Royce asked, lifting his light and peering forward into a vast labyrinth of crumbled stone and silhouetted ruins.
“Which author would you like to hear from? Antun Bulard did a wonderful study of the ancient texts as well as—”
“Summarize, please.”
“Right, okay, well, legend has it that this was once a small agrarian village, the home of a farmer’s daughter named Persephone. They lived in fear of the elves, who had reportedly burned nearby villages and slaughtered the inhabitants right down to every man, woman, and child. Persephone’s village was next but a man called Novron appeared in the village. He fell in love with Persephone and vowed to save her. He begged her to leave the village but she refused, so he decided to stay and swore to protect her.
“He took charge and rallied the men. When the attack came, he defeated the forces of the elves, saving the village. He revealed himself to be Novron, the son of Maribor, sent to protect his children from the greed of the Children of Ferrol.
“Many battles later, Novron defeated the elves at the Battle of Avempartha and a time of peace with the elves began. Novron wished to build a capital for his great empire and a home for his wife. Although he ruled vast tracks of land, Persephone refused to live anywhere other than her village. So it was here that Novron built his capital, naming it Percepliquis—the city of Persephone.
“Over the years it became the largest and most sophisticated city in the world. It is chronicled as being five miles across and the seat of a famous university and library. Scholars came from across the empire to study. The Grand Imperial Palace was built here and it was a place of temples, gardens, and parks. Records report that the city had clean water fountains open to the public and baths where citizens lounged in heated pools.
“Percepliquis was also the home of the imperial bureaucracy, a vast system of offices that administered the empire, controlling its economy and social and political institutions. There were agents responsible for rooting out potential dissidents, suspected criminals, and corrupt officials. And of course, it was home to the Teshlor Guild and the Cenzar Council—the imperial knights and the college of wizards that advised and protected the emperor.
“Through his bureaucracy the emperor controlled everything, from the forests to mines, farms, granaries, shipyards, and cloth mills. Corruption was held in check by appointing more than one head of each department and by rotating them out frequently. They never appointed local men who might have ties to those they administered to. Even prostitution was regulated by the empire.
“Percepliquis was a place of great wealth. The center of the empire’s trade that spanned all of Apeladorn and reached even into the exotic Westerlins and north into Estrendor, it bustled with richly dressed merchants and the roads were legendary. They were huge, wide thoroughfares of well-laid stone, perfectly straight, that ran for miles in all directions. Trees were planted on either side of them to provide shade, and they were well maintained and marked with milestones. Wells and shelters were placed at regular intervals for the comfort of travelers.
“There was no famine, no crime, no disease or plague. No droughts were ever recorded, nor floods, nor even harsh frosts. Food was always plentiful, and no one was poor.”
“I can see why the Imperialists want to recapture that ideal,” Alric observed.
“Which just goes to show how foolish people can be,” Gaunt said. “No famine, no drought, no disease, no poor? There’s about as much chance of that happening as—”
“As you becoming emperor?” Royce asked.
Gaunt scowled.
“So what should we be looking for?” Royce asked.
Myron shook his head. “I don’t know,” he replied, and glanced at Arista.
“The tomb of Novron,” the princess told them.
“Oh.” Myron brightened. “That would be under the palace in the center of the city.”
“Any way to identify it?”
“It’s a huge white building with a solid-gold dome,” Arista answered for him, gaining several surprised looks. She shrugged. “I’m guessing.”
Myron nodded. “Good guess.”
They moved on as before, with Royce in the lead, fleet of foot as always, investigating shadows and crevices, his light bobbing. Alric and Mauvin followed at a distance in a manner that reminded Hadrian of a fox hunt. Arista and Myron walked together, both staring up at their surroundings with great interest. Gaunt and Magnus followed them, occasionally speaking in whispers. Hadrian brought up the rear once more, glancing over his shoulder repeatedly. He already missed Wyatt and Elden.
They followed a passage that wove between collapsed rockfalls until they reached a street of neatly paved stones, each cut in a hexagon and fitted with stunning precision. Here, at last, the mounds of rubble gave way, allowing them to view the shattered remains of the once-magnificent city that rose around them.
Great buildings of rose or white stone, tarnished by age and curtained in debris, had lost none of their beauty. What immediately captured Hadrian’s attention was how tall they were. Pillars and arches soared hundreds of feet in the air, supporting marvelously decorated entablatures and pediments. Great domes of burnished bronze and stone-crowned buildings with diameters in excess of a hundred feet were far larger than anything he had ever seen before. Colonnades supporting a row of arches ran for hundreds of yards as mere decoration, standing out before load-bearing walls. Statues of unknown men were exquisitely sculpted such that they might move at any minute. They adorned silent fountains, pedestals, and building facades.
Percepliquis Page 25