Autumngale

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  The roar of the people made her head ache.

  I told Etienne she was a dangerous woman.

  She was most certainly that. Marielle still wished she knew what her relationship to the former Lord Mythos was.

  I think she wanted him to be her lover.

  Unlikely. A woman like that cared for nothing but power.

  Maybe she also cared about power over a man who once had been powerful.

  That wasn’t how Marielle thought. Who cared who had power or didn’t? Power was only ever meant to be used for the good of humanity and the service of the law.

  You are a rare pure gem in a well of snakes.

  She felt his cheeks flushing at her emotion and quickly pushed it down. That was too weird.

  There he was! Their quarry.

  The Grandfather surfaced from the crowd again, pushing out toward the stairs that led down from the Government District to the districts below.

  Marielle shoved through the crowd after him.

  Careful! No need to hurt anyone!

  Justice would be served. She was going to put the Grandfather back in the clock. If anyone deserved the sentence – it was him.

  No need to trample anyone in the process!

  She wasn’t going to trample anyone. She was just going to catch him!

  How long had Tamerlan been following the Grandfather? How long had he almost caught him? The City Watch had a name for that – dog trailing. And when you Dog Trailed someone for a really long time there was this thing the veterans talked about – this thing where you began to think you’d never catch him. It made your responses slower. Reduced your creativity.

  Hey!

  But Marielle had the advantage. She hadn’t been dog trailing for long. She had to get to him before he took to those stairs. Her eyes were sweeping across the crowd, looking for an opening. She was moving before she was even certain, leaping up onto a passing hand cart and jumping from there over a knot of people carrying barrel staves and hammers. What had happened in this place?

  No time to think of that.

  Tamerlan could leap better than she could. And he had balance like a cat. She landed him on a balustrade at the top of the stairs, allowing him a single breath to catch himself before leaping again with all his strength.

  The Grandfather’s back was to them as he reached the head of the staircase. He wouldn’t see them. There was no chance this time that he’d spiral away. She landed on his back like an angry cat, clawing for his throat through the thick purple scarf. It came loose, tangling around one of Tamerlan’s wrists at the same time that his thumbs sank into the other man’s windpipe and squeezed.

  Don’t kill him! He needs to be alive.

  She wasn’t going to kill him. She was going to subdue him. She’d seen Carnelian do this once. Even her name shot regret through Marielle, but she had no time for that now. With all her might, she pressed down as the Grandfather spun in her grasp, forcing her to adjust her grip, until his eyes met hers. There was no laughter in them now. His eyes rolled back until all she saw were the whites and he slumped heavily on the cobblestones.

  Hurry! The crowd doesn’t like this.

  He was right about that. They were closing in, a growl already in their throats. With a worried sound, she hurriedly wrapped the scarf around the Grandfather’s limp wrists, cinching it as tightly as the silk allowed and then threw him up over Tamerlan’s thick shoulders.

  How strong was he? He took the weight of the Grandfather as if it were no more than a sack of potatoes.

  And now what? I might be able to carry him, but I’ll struggle to fight like this.

  Fight?

  She looked around him and her eyes grew wide at the sight of a ring of revolutionaries – that was who they must be. None of them wore a uniform. Their clothing said dockworker, bouncer, tavern drunk, blacksmith’s apprentice, librarian – she could go on. Dozens of careers represented and all with tools of the trade – hammers, barrel staves, cargo hooks, and truncheons – rather than usual weapons. But that didn’t make them any less deadly.

  “Is that a palace guard uniform I see on you, boy?” the tavern drunk called.

  What was Tamerlan wearing? Marielle looked down to see the blue tabard that Etienne had given him so long ago. Uh oh. In a revolution, the only thing you didn’t want to be was part of the old city structure.

  “We’re done with your kind here!”

  They closed in around Tamerlan and the Grandfather and Marielle brought up the shell one more time. Would the echo be too faint? Could she still get enough magic to travel with it?

  She blew gently. Nothing.

  Blew again. Nothing.

  A blow crashed into Tamerlan’s lower back and she flinched, falling to one knee. The Grandfather felt suddenly too heavy. But they were so close! So close to having him finally in their grasp!

  With all her might, she blew into the shell, thinking of how she used to hop through time and space without a problem before she took over Tamerlan. She could do it again. She could.

  She just had to get them to the clock!

  Sparks flew and they whirled in place. Purple and yellow. Yellow and purple.

  It was working!

  The cylinder of Spice dropped from Tamerlan’s mouth.

  And Marielle dropped from his mind like a heavy brick.

  35. New Legend

  Tamerlan

  THE SPARKS FADED, LEAVING him gasping for breath with the unconscious Legend over his shoulders.

  Marielle? Marielle?

  She was gone. His mind felt dull and achy without her.

  We’re still here, pretty man.

  Lila was no consolation. Not compared to Marielle.

  If you like being commanded by a woman, then smoke again and I’ll be here to hold your hand. I can do more than that hawk-nosed law-girl anyway.

  He ignored her as the ground beneath him bucked and heaved. He was on a balcony somewhere and the railing shook back and forth, the rails rattling like dry bones as they rubbed against each other.

  This place was fancy – a palace perhaps? Marielle had been trying to take him to H’yi – could this be the palace there? He didn’t know if it had been burnt with everything else. But there was a tang to the air – a tang he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t spent so much time with Marielle. Was that saltwater? Was he near the sea?

  He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling under the weight of the Grandfather and stumbled toward the shaking railing.

  This was not just a palace – this was the Great Hall in a palace. Like the Great Hall in the Seven Suns palace, this hall was not just massive but also full of curiosities. The wreck of a ship, carefully positioned on its side, cleaned, and fitted for an audience to sit within and still be able to see the hall, was on one side, a plaque near the bow to explain its origins. Was that Queen Mer’s bust on the ship’s head?

  A waterfall fell from one of the other balconies, arranged over a series of rocks with statues of fish and squid worked between the falling water. It plunged into a pool below.

  He didn’t have time to note the fish skeletons, the coral, the strange art made of pearls – an eerie sight after witnessing the death of Mer’s avatar – because in the center of the Hall was something far more captivating.

  Were those leaders of the Retribution below?

  They stood in a silent ring, blowing into shells – but these weren’t little palm-sized shells. These were shells large enough to hold Tamerlan inside of them.

  Look! They still have that?

  What had King Abelmeyer so concerned?

  Dragon. Ram sounded the same as always.

  Queen Mer’s Conch! Lila sounded awed. Strange – he didn’t hear anything from Maid Chaos. She was gone now – gone forever.

  Was anyone else missing? That was a chilling thought. Or was it? Would it really be so bad if more of them were gone?

  If we’re gone, then you have to figure out all of this on your own. Think you’re ready for that
, pretty man?

  He wasn’t. He didn’t even know what they were doing down below.

  You don’t? Watch carefully.

  Dragon. Dragon.

  He leaned against the rail and looked down. It wasn’t like he could creep out of here with an unconscious prisoner on his shoulders anyway.

  The leaders of the Retribution – and that was definitely who they were! – were dressed in closely tailored coats with wide slashes cut in armpits and at the hips to allow movement. Their hair was cut short except for a long lock in the front. The length of the lock varied from one to another, suggesting rank of some kind. Each of their faces bore tattoos of different color in what looked like coastlines or maps. On one woman, it was a ragged shoreline drawn in burnt orange just under her eyes and across the bridge of her nose. Another had a light blue mountain range up her left cheek. Sepia trails split and crossed on the forehead of one of the men – a craggy, hard fellow with arms thicker than Tamerlan’s. There were more – too many more for him to note them all, but it gave them a rakish look of born adventurers.

  They blew into the massive conch shells which were arranged in a ring around one man – a man standing in a whale-bone cage. He stood still, almost calm, though his eyes were wild. Clothed only in a short pair of trousers, his bare skin was so full of tattoos swirling out of the windrose on his lower ribs, that there wasn’t a bare patch left.

  He seemed important.

  He would have to be, Abelmeyer said. Only the worthy are chosen as Legends.

  The ground heaved again, and a chunk of plaster fell from the ceiling, smashing on the floor beside the cage – yet no one stopped. The blowers kept blowing, their conches making a low, eerie sound, and the man in the cage didn’t flinch. He was perfectly still despite his tortured eyes.

  Do you see the north star between his eyebrows?

  It was tattooed there in red.

  It is the ancient sign of a Fleet Commander of Mer. If I were going to judge, I would guess this man led the fleet before this moment.

  What were they going to do to him?

  They’re going to make him a Legend.

  Tamerlan gasped. A Legend? What did Abelmeyer mean by that?

  Dragon. Dragon. Dragon.

  How do you think we became Legends, Tamerlan? We made a sacrifice for our city. We bound the dragons with our lives and blood. When the Grandfather destroyed Maid Chaos’ avatar it woke the dragon Choan. And here we are, watching these people fix that. They will chain Choan again before he can rise and destroy the city.

  The floor beneath him shook again, so hard this time that the balcony rippled under him like the waves of the ocean. Tamerlan clenched his teeth as they chattered in his head. There was nothing for it. He’d just have to keep trying to put the Grandfather back into the clock. Whatever madness this was could be dealt with later.

  Do you think so? It’s possible that very soon, there will be another voice in your head.

  He shuddered. If only Marielle was still there. She’d held back his madness.

  The man in the whalebone cage lifted up into the air, glowing faintly. His eyes rolled back into his head. A strange sound emerged from him – like a scream with his mouth still shut. What did it require to make a Legend?

  A lot of things. But one of them is making the avatar – and no one survives that process.

  They were going to kill him?

  Worse. They’re going to make him immortal.

  No time for panic. No time for regrets. With a sigh, he shook himself.

  If this was Choan, then out there somewhere were his friends in Jhinn’s gondola. If he could get out of here – somehow – he could get to them.

  Call on us! We will take you!

  No. Better to do this himself. He hurried from the balcony, out into the passageway beyond.

  He’d expected regular palace behavior – servants at work, Landholds strolling from place to place – or something. He hadn’t expected chaos.

  This was worse than Yan.

  Screams and shrieks filled the air as people rushed through the passageways with baskets, or random items clutched to chests or trailing behind them on the ground. No one here was injured or caked in mud or oranges, but the undercurrent of fear and turmoil was as thick here as it had been in Yan or Xin – worse. And no wonder with the dragon bucking and heaving beneath them and the palace gave way with every roll – plaster falling in chunks from the ceiling, whole rooms buckling as their ceilings collapsed. Far from the calm in the Great Hall, these passageways were ruled by panic.

  Women clutching small children to their breasts ran with wild eyes while men held anything close to a weapon that they could find – as if you could fight a dragon the size of a city – or even this disciplined army of invaders with curtain rods and ornamental spears. But what else could they do with their world falling apart? He knew what it was like to grasp at straws on a narrow hoe of saving a loved one.

  No longer afraid of guards, Tamerlan plunged toward the outer walls of the palace. If he could find a way out to the canals – well, that would be a start. The Grandfather was getting heavy and his knees felt weak under him.

  By the time he’d made his way to the outer walls, his arms and back were aching. Sweat poured down his forehead. No one had commented on his captive. No one had stopped him. No one had seemed to even care – though compared to the fallen rubble and broken pottery in the halls, compared to the bodies he’d seen collapsed or heaped in corners in the halls – people injured in the shaking or hurt in the stampedes of their fellow man – the unconscious man he carried was hardly unique.

  He pushed through a narrow door to the outer palace wall. He was going to have to climb a flight of steps to reach the top of the wall and be able to look out. Could he manage that? His legs were like jelly under him – like the stems of wilted flowers. He wasn’t going to make it.

  He let his mind listen to the Legends. Maybe they would have a word of encouragement.

  Smoke and we will help!

  Would you get out of here?

  It almost sounded like they were fighting. Their voices were strained and snappy.

  Stop holding yourself back! Just call us over the Bridge!

  Were they in pain?

  He mounted the steps, struggling under the weight of the Grandfather. When he reached the top, the cacophony in his mind was so intense that he couldn’t make out individual voices anymore. Everything was pain, pain, pain. His head was going to explode.

  It felt too hard to look out across the city. It didn’t help that the city seemed to roll and twitch as the dragon under it slowly woke. Pain made vision difficult. He blinked hard at the flowers of darkness that burst across his vision. Through the pain, he tried to find the canals, tried to trace them through fleeing people, battling groups, erupting fires.

  If chaos had a name, it was Choan. If chaos had a homeland, it was the Dragonblood Plains.

  Did he hear his name? It was hard to hear anything at all with his mind so full of screams, grunts, and shrieks.

  In the distance, he saw the Fleet ships still creeping up the canals lighting everything they found on fire or sinking them beneath the murky water.

  He stumbled forward, leaning against the lip of the wall, looking down into the moat.

  He was seeing things. He was pretty sure of it. Stars of light burst between the flowers of darkness and between that and the confusion in his mind he didn’t know what his own thoughts were. He wanted to see Jhinn in the moat below. Wanted it more than anything. So, of course, that was what he was seeing.

  Up on the lip! Push the Grandfather over!

  That didn’t make sense, but it was the only clear thought he’d had in so long.

  He pushed his burden over.

  And then panic hit.

  What had he done?

  The man would drown, and it would be too late to rescue Marielle from the clock! This was madness!

  He heard the splash of the Grandfather’s body hitti
ng the moat. At least he’d hit water and not stone.

  He struggled up onto the top of the lip of the palace wall, shaking as the wall rolled and heaved under him, and then stumbled forward into an awkward fall.

  Would he be able to find the Grandfather with his vision faltering and his hearing gone? Would he be able to keep him from drowning?

  This was all his fault. What a fool thing to do! Dragon’s blood in a cup, but he was a fool!

  He hit the water hard, belly first, smacking his face and arms against the surface of the water. Everything stung as he fell below the thick, algae clumped water of the moat. His mouth was full of it, his nose, his ears. He couldn’t see anything.

  Something tugged at him as he tried to swim further down to find the Grandfather.

  He was losing his mind.

  He’d failed.

  He’d failed and he was going insane.

  And he was just so furious. He’d been so close and then one stupid thought and he’d lost everything he’d worked for. Fool! Fool! Fool!

  If he died down here, he’d deserve it.

  He was stuck on whatever was tugging at him. Stuck!

  Something yanked him backward and warm air hit his face. He sucked in a breath before he hit something hard again.

  “Stop fighting me, boy! Stop!”

  He was so insane that now he was imagining Jhinn, wet and slimy with algae. Anglarok by his side frowning angrily with the sodden Grandfather in his arms.

  Something was jammed between his lips.

  “Here, do yourself a favor.”

  He pulled in a breath and the world began to spin.

  36: Fight for Footing

  Tamerlan

  “MER’S SPIT IN A CUP! Depths take us all!” Liandari’s cursing sounded both awed and horrified at once. “For the love of the brine, preserve us! For the love of the wind in sails, forfend!”

  He blinked and his sight was clear again.

  I’m here – for now.

  Marielle! She stood him up so he could see. The whole gondola had moved with them – Jhinn, Liandari, Anglarok, Etienne and the Grandfather. They floated on the top of the water together. He hadn’t been seeing things. Jhinn had been there just under the wall on the moat.