Wrath of Storms

by Steven McKinnon

  The Queen descended through the vortex. Serena’s heart beat harder with every passing second. With her approximations, Ventris and Gallows brought the airship down, her hull rattling every inch of the way. The room tilted and machines screamed. The sensation in Serena’s gut worsened, creeping through her like an infection.

  ‘Easy does it,’ murmured Gallows. His fingers whitened around the steering column. ‘Easy—’

  Cracks split the skyglass and every machine in the bridge went haywire. Alarms rang and emergency lighting flickered in and out.

  Tiera leapt to Ventris, her curved knife around the pirate’s throat. ‘Finisa bitch, what have you done?’

  The Queen continued its descent, shaking, shrieking. Metal twisted and the port-side skyglass shattered, showering Enoch in glass. Tendrils of mist crept inside.

  ‘The radiation,’ Serena panted, ‘it’ll burn us.’

  ‘Slow down,’ Tiera snarled.

  ‘I’m trying,’ Gallows urged. ‘She ain’t listening!’

  Oh, Gods…

  The airship plummeted. She juddered, throwing Serena into the side of her chair. More cracks raced across the skyglass. The force ripped machines from bulkheads, trailing sparking wires.

  ‘Ventris, what do we do?’ Serena demanded. ‘What do we do?’

  Tiera’s knife may have been pressed to the pirate’s throat, but it was Ventris’ lips that formed the slash. ‘Enjoy the ride.’

  Howling filled Serena’s head as the Queen dropped through the mist. The ship cleaved through the top of a tower. Warning lights ignited, signalling loss of thrusters. Something ruptured, and the Queen vented ignium gas—without thrusters, powered rotors or lifting gas, the airship would be their tomb.

  ‘We’re losing integrity,’ warned Tiera.

  Hardwood and steel peeled from the Queen’s hull and fluttered past the window like confetti. The force of the descent threatened to rip Serena from her station and throw her through the skyglass; Enoch’s stone hand secured her in place.

  Gallows roared something. He struggled with the apparatus, arms taut and fingers white.

  Tiera pulled away from Ventris and punched buttons on the flight console. ‘Stabiliser fins, airbrakes… Rotors inactive!’

  A terrible howl cut through the din, like the world itself screamed. It threatened to rip the skin from Serena’s bones.

  Gallows and Tiera yelled something, but their voices were lost. Ventris stared at Serena, the brush of a smirk on her lips.

  A trap.

  Serena fought through the pain coursing through her, unhitched the safety belt, wriggled from the reassurance of Enoch’s grip—

  Then the Queen stopped plummeting and her machines settled.

  ‘What in all hells?’ Gallows said.

  Tiera frowned. ‘Rotors operational.’

  ‘Landing gear active,’ said Gallows.

  The Queen of the North set down in Palthonheim.

  Ventris cleared her throat. ‘You’re welcome.’

  The Queen’s cargo hatch descended.

  Like the others, Serena had grabbed pirate gear and weapons from Frosthaven. Gallows had shown her the basics of using a gun, but it was her wrench that offered her comfort.

  The ramp hit the ground, and Serena stepped out onto a stone boulevard. Oily light filtered through the radiation fog above, washing Palthonheim in ever-changing colours. But the radiation caused no harm—no searing heat burned Serena’s lungs, and her skin didn’t blister or crack. The air tasted of nothing, and though only the moon shone through the simmering murk, warmth caressed Serena’s skin.

  Tucked next to her Captain Crimsonwing novel, the ignerium inside Serena’s overalls grew heavy.

  The courtyard resembled Dalthea’s Old Town Square—except clean, and wider. It looks… Almost normal. Looking at the assorted cathedrals and temples sent shivers running down Serena’s spine.

  ‘Damn…’ Gallows marched ahead, arms falling to his sides. ‘That’s a Phadrosi cathedral. And a Mercurian. That one’s Aludanian—check out the asymmetrical patterns… That one’s got hallmarks of Ganaldi architecture.’ Gallows pointed to the others. ‘Ryndaran, Tarevian… Some I don’t even recognise.’

  ‘This is the centre of the city,’ Ventris said. Serena detected subtle fear in her voice. ‘The cradle of the greatest minds in the world.’

  Seeing the structures of Palthonheim before her, Serena couldn’t argue. The Phadrosi cathedral Gallows had pointed out was constructed from a deep purple stone Serena had never seen before—violet, like Phadrosi eyes. Another was made from a black stone that shimmered silver; the one next to it, a brilliant white marble. Their towers twisted as they rose towards the sky, some curving inwards like the horns of a ram.

  But there was something missing—frames where windows should be remained dark and empty, like eye sockets in a skull.

  ‘Ten houses of worship,’ said Ventris.

  ‘Shouldn’t there be an eleventh?’ Serena asked. ‘One for each of the Indecim?’ To the north-east of the circle, broken pillars stretched up from a mound of rubble.

  Enoch stood next to Serena. ‘Something about this place does not sit well with me. We should reconsider our journey here.’

  ‘The Queen’s out of commission,’ said Serena. ‘We wanna leave Palthonheim, we’ll need to find materials to repair her.’

  Enoch clenched and unclenched his fists. ‘Let’s not dwell any longer than we have to. Where do we go?’

  Serena pointed to the ignicite rubble. ‘Past that.’

  Tiera raised her chin. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I can feel it.’

  Like the paints on an artist’s mixing palette, the hanging mists flowed into each other, changing colour. The avenues were empty, and there was no wind and no sound. Distant thunder echoed, but not like any storm Gallows had known. It stayed in the clouds, coming no closer and going no further.

  ‘Through here,’ Serena said.

  Gallows followed her. A canopy arched overhead, from one side to the street to the other, like the skybridges of Dalthea—except it ran the length of the entire street.

  Old boutiques displayed fashions Gallows reckoned were ancient a hundred years ago. Confectionary shops, tobacconists and cafés all sat undisturbed. A cramped shopfront with a pawnbroker symbol displayed ‘Campbell & Coutts’ in flaking yellow paint. Numerous other stores sat in similar condition along the sheltered boulevard: Starlit Tomes & Grimoires, Emaz’ Histories And Occult Supplies, The Black Harp Bar, Swiff & Daughters’ Locksmith Shop.

  Grand carriages lined the street every few hundred feet, abandoned by horses and passengers. It was idyllic, serene…

  But there were no people.

  Gallows couldn’t see any evidence that the shops had ever been in use, or that the townhouses had ever been lived in.

  Ventris stopped dead in front of him.

  Gallows’ finger brushed the trigger of his shotgun. ‘I’d be careful about sudden changes like that, Ventris—I can be awful jumpy with these things.’

  Ventris didn’t squirm in her bonds, didn’t protest. ‘The Siren leads us to our deaths. Know that.’

  Gallows prodded Ventris with the gun. ‘Let’s not keep Nyr waiting.’

  Two tall, mahogany doors loomed at the end of the shopping district. ‘We’re close,’ Serena called back. She placed both of her hands on the left-hand door and pushed. It swung without a sound.

  Brilliant sunlight bore down from a pristine blue sky, shining upon a wide, undulating bridge. Six golden arches wove over and under the bridge like a continuous ribbon.

  Tiera adopted a knife-fighting stance.

  ‘Scared?’ Gallows asked, following Serena across.

  ‘Do you remember it being daytime five minutes ago?’

  Gallows’ throat tightened. ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘The library’s at the other side.’ Serena stalked towards a large edifice at the end of the bridge, made of smooth, glossy black stone.

&nbs
p; Gallows couldn’t resist peering over the bridge’s rail—a racing, azure river meandered at the bottom of a wide valley, so far down it resembled a narrow vein in a limb. The valley walls glinted like gold—brighter than any raw ignicite Gallows had ever seen, closer to the bright sheen of ignerium. Waterfalls spewed white water into the river—placed too evenly apart not to be man-made.

  ‘Any idea what river that is?’ Tiera called, without taking her predatory gaze away from Ventris.

  Gallows shook his head. ‘Guess it’s a tributary from the River Althon. Or maybe its source.’ He ran his fingers along the warm gold of the bridge’s snaking rail. The gold was inset with jade script and vibrant scarlet runes. ‘Holy shit… This architecture… It’s Idari.’

  ‘The Idari are here?’

  ‘Relax,’ said Gallows. ‘If Idari architects built this, then they’ve been dead for centuries.’

  Tiera didn’t look convinced. ‘Is Palthonheim that old?’

  ‘Maybe not the Palthonheim we know, but the river would have brought trade, people. Villages would’ve grown and joined together. I wonder why the scholars chose this site for their studies?’

  Deep below, more bridges connected the two sides of the valleys, all carrying different architectural hallmarks than the one Gallows stood on. Some resembled aqueducts, others were simple arches. One looked almost identical to the Queen Iona Bridge in Dalthea.

  Oak trees, firs, cedar trees crowned the clifftops, spreading over miles, their leaves every shade of green and red. Gallows’ pulse quickened. In the far distance, the sun glinted off golden domes and terracotta rooftops, huge structures nestled within the trees.

  In spite of everything that had happened, he couldn’t take the smile from his face. How many hours had he sat and dreamt of what Palthonheim looked like? How many nights had he spent in inns and taverns with fellow treasure hunters and tomb raiders, waxing lyrical about the prizes Palthonheim held? How many times had he sat in the Laguna Lounge with Sera and bored her with tales and legends of this place?

  And now he walked through its streets and avenues.

  ‘Gallows.’ Enoch’s voice rolled over his thoughts. ‘We should not linger in this place.’

  ‘Right.’

  Tiera muttered something in Phadrosi. It sounded like a curse word. ‘Where’s Serena gone?’

  Before Gallows could answer, Ventris hobbled up beside him, head angled to the sky like a baying wolf.

  ‘Please tell me you’re not gonna talk about shadow dragons again,’ Gallows said.

  ‘The sun…’

  Gallows followed her gaze. ‘Damn the Gods…’

  The golden flare of the sun mutated into a raw red. Scarlet storm clouds rolled across the sky, steeping Palthonheim in a bloody haze.

  Gallows stepped away from the pirate queen and pointed his shotgun at her, air heavy in his lungs. ‘What’s going on?’

  One corner of her mouth twitched. ‘Don’t worry too much about the phenomena here; sanity’s overrated anyway.’

  ‘The scholars’ experiments corrupted this place,’ said Enoch. ‘They interfered with the natural order of things. Their hubris knew no bounds—and they perished because of it. This is a cursed place.’

  Beneath an angry, red sky, Gallows couldn’t find the words to argue.

  Serena stood in front of the black structure at the end of the bridge, waiting outside its doors.

  ‘There you are,’ Gallows said at her back. ‘You sure this is the library?’

  Ventris looked up at the library’s great door, her lips pursed and skin paling even further than its normal pallor.

  She’s scared.

  ‘I’m sure.’ Serena pressed her hands to the door—it had no handles, and its stone felt neither cold nor warm.

  Without a sound, it opened, revealing a long, winding passage with a low ceiling and gilded walls. Mounted ignium lamps breathed muddy, amber light.

  ‘C’mon.’ The gnawing doubt in Serena’s gut intensified as soon as she stepped inside. Smooth flagstones ran along the length of the floor. Everyone followed her in silence—even Enoch’s footsteps made no sound.

  Then the light disappeared, and the door behind Serena closed.

  Gallows tested it. ‘Shit. Locked. Should’ve seen that coming.’

  ‘I have ignium charges,’ Tiera announced.

  Serena grabbed her arm. ‘Save ’em. We need to blow an exit, then we can. C’mon. We’re close.’

  Serena didn’t wait to see if anyone followed. She marched through the passage—its floors and walls tilted at a shallow angle, worsening the further she got.

  Ventris’ words and echoes of her visions pressed on Serena’s mind—so much death and destruction. But if Musa was a monster, then why was she revered so much? She may have been murdered and left in a tomb with her children, but first she was a God—worshipped like the others.

  So what changed?

  The passage ended at a door identical to the entrance. It opened with just as little force, and a vast chamber stretched open before her.

  Lamps hung from a vaulted ceiling on chains, emanating a misty, sapphire glow. Stone, crescent-shaped tables were laid out, adorned with piles of dusty books. Balconies several storeys high glowered down on Serena, and a dozen sweeping staircases stretched to floors above and branched off.

  Rows of colossal bookcases stretched towards the ceiling, hewn from rock and grey as tombstones. They fanned out towards the walls in a crescent formation and stretched so deep into the chamber, Serena couldn’t see the wall at the other end. Mounds of books sat in the aisles between the bookcases, left to rot and gather dust.

  Gallows walked in front of Serena, awestruck.

  It smelled like a library—musky, almost like the aroma from coffee. Serena hadn’t noticed it before, but it was the first smell she detected in Palthonheim.

  With a scrape, Tiera unsheathed one of her knives and jammed it beneath the door. It protruded at an angle. ‘Couldn’t find a door wedge.’

  ‘Good thinking.’ Serena ambled towards a curving stone reading table. ‘Guess we should have a look.’ Some of the books atop the table lay open, their spines frayed and pages torn out. Serena picked a leather-bound volume up with two hands; it was as heavy as an ignium canister. She couldn’t make out its title, and when she leafed through its yellowed, flaking pages, she found words and entire passages scored out.

  Tiera stood beside her. ‘Too much to ask if that has all the answers you need?’

  Serena set the book down. ‘Yeah. But I don’t even know what I’m looking for.’

  Gallows walked towards a far wall on the eastern side of the library, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor. ‘Personally, I’m hoping they got Captain Crimsonwing and the Voyage of the Damned.’

  Serena knew he was trying to act calm, but she saw the worry etched on his face—he felt the same unease as she did. Everyone did. ‘Let’s just examine the library, see what we can find. At least we’re indoors, right?’

  Tiera picked up a book and turned it over in her hands. ‘Anthems of Belios.’ A smile played on her lips, then disappeared as she hurled the book back onto the table.

  ‘A favourite book of Yulia’s?’ Ventris teased.

  Tiera didn’t say anything.

  ‘Hey.’ Gallows’ voice carried across the library, vibrating against the stone bookcases and tables. ‘Come and see this.’

  Serena followed his gaze and stared up at a relief mural carved into the stone wall. It was similar to the frieze in King Arnault’s hall—the Gods in battle with the Orinul.

  It stretched to the other end of the library, broken only by the stone pillars in the walls. It depicted Aerulus riding his horse, Torenir, a sword in each hand.

  ‘The Renaissance of the Gods.’ Gallows shook his head. ‘Seen in every home and every postcard in the godsdamn world.’

  ‘Actually, that’s the name of the movement,’ said Ventris. ‘Not the painting.’

  Serena shared Gallows�
� disdain for the image—especially since Pyron Thackeray had revealed to her how Musa led the charge against the legions of demons, not Aerulus the so-called ‘God-King’.

  She traced the relief figures with her index finger. Aside from a light coating of dust, the stone was smooth.

  ‘Incredible craftsmanship.’ Serena gazed at the intricate patterns carved into warriors’ clothes, the chips on their weapons, and dozens of other minute details. The artist played with the foreground and background, increasing the depth of the scene, making it look like the battle took place over hundreds of miles.

  She followed the mural across the circular room; she saw Nyr and Sol, Lunos and Deolira—all of the Gods except Musa.

  Anxiety wormed in her gut. The battle from the Renaissance of the Gods was what she’d been witnessing in her head—the moment Musa and her ten warriors destroyed the Orinul, the demons that enslaved humanity for eons. She didn’t believe the story—no-one did—she believed the Church invented the Orinul as a bogeyman to keep folk worshipping the Gods. But Pyron Thackeray believed the Orinul ruled the world once, until the first Siren destroyed them.

  ‘This is where the Gods communed their hatred to me.’ Ventris’ voice startled Serena.

  ‘Did you base your whole “I hate Musa” thing on this?’ she asked the pirate.

  ‘You saw what I saw—you know it to be true. The destruction the Gods wrought, the untold thousands they killed—it’s destined to happen again. They exerted their will over humanity, and when they rebelled, they slaughtered them. The so-called Fayth invented the Orinul to reshape history and make us worship at the altar of our true slave-makers once again.’

  Gallows stepped back from the mural. ‘This is weird.’

  ‘Bit of an understatement,’ said Serena.

  ‘At the opposite end of the mural, there are Phadrosi weapons—but as we get closer to the western wall, the weapons look Ryndaran.’

  ‘And that means…?’

  Gallows ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Maybe nothing—I reckon this mural is close to eight hundred years old, but the Phadrosi invented cannons five hundred years ago, yet here they are. The people all look like they’re done by the same sculptor, but details change the farther we go—like we’re stepping through time.’