‘I may as well go, too,’ Leopold said aloud. He sighed and pushed his feet into his new boots, and followed the other two outside and along the corridor.
****
The old man remembered the way, turning left and right and passing through doorways as appropriate, or else it was luck, because they were shortly stepping out onto the second storey balcony of the aftcastle.
They enjoyed the sunshine, sea air blowing in their faces and the sounds of the waves and the men busy on deck. Leopold again took in the marvel of the vessel.
He spied Commander Riggadardian faraway upon the fo’c’sle, with Daneel and Captain Orrell beside him. Leopold hurried down the stairs that led to the main deck and crossed the flat expanse of timber. The place was heaving with activity, soldiers on deck filling every space that the sailors were not. The sounds of men at work filled the air and the stiff wind made the many pennants and flags that decorated the ship whip about and dance excitedly.
Salu and Toby went off to seek amusement, while Leopold reached the fo’c’sle and climbed the stairs to the foredeck.
‘Emperor Leopold,’ Captain Orrell greeted, noticing his approach.
The three men were looking over the mass of activity that was the main deck. Even upon the smaller fo’c’sle copious numbers of men were at work around the foremasts.
Leopold nodded to the captain in return, overawed with the scene. Captain Orrell returned to conversation with Daneel, the one-eyed man glancing towards Leopold only momentarily. Only Commander Riggadardian broke free to grant Leopold his full attention.
‘Emperor Leopold,’ Riggadardian hailed solemnly. ‘It will be some time until we reach our destination. It might be better if you remain in your cabin. It can be hazardous up here. The Farstride is essentially untested and we do suffer the occasional mishap.’
‘I will die from boredom in my cabin, Commander. I want to see how things are faring out here.’
‘Very well,’ Riggadardian said graciously. ‘Your father would never be stowed away in his room, either. That reminds me, I do have something special for you.’
Leopold had not noticed an extra sword hanging from the commander’s hip, and the man quickly unfettered one and handed it over, homed within its elaborately embellished scabbard. Leopold accepted it reluctantly, for he did not know how to hold it. He had heard of swords in his father’s tales, but the closest he came to wielding one was waving a stick in childhood games.
‘Why ... thank you,’ was all he could think to say, turning the gift over in his hands.
‘This was your father’s sword,’ Riggadardian informed him. ‘I see the regal attire I left for you did not meet your approval. Unfortunate. But it would bolster the men’s morale if you carried your father’s noble blade. Countless victories were won with it. Your father never commanded his battles from afar, preferring to join the fray. That is why his armies fought beneath him so valiantly. He would wrench the limbs from his opponents—’ He stopped himself, realising he had become overexcited.
Leopold held the hilt in one hand and the scabbard in the other and readied to draw the weapon free. Captain Orrell took notice and snapped it from him before an inch of blade was revealed.
‘You damned fool, Riggadardian,’ he said. ‘He’ll cut his own hands off with that. Can’t you see he doesn’t know one end from the other?’
Riggadardian looked dismayed and disappointed. ‘Oh, I didn’t ...’ he began, trailing off. ‘Perhaps he can wear it for show—’
‘He can do without,’ Orrell asserted. ‘We do not want him waving it about and hurting himself. No offence, Your Majesty, I can certainly arrange lessons for you. Putting such a weapon in unskilled hands is asking for trouble. Commander, if you want him to look the part of an emperor, send someone to his cabin to help him put on his clothes the way you want. You have to remember, he has never seen the likes of any of this before.’
Riggadardian nodded thoughtfully. ‘You are right, of course, Captain. I did not stop to think. My mind is on the coming battle. I apologise, Your Majesty.’
‘It’s nothing, Commander,’ Leopold said, wanting to keep the sword.
‘Take my dagger for the time being,’ Riggadardian offered.
Orrell stilled the man’s hand before it reached to his side.
‘He can do without that too, Commander,’ the captain said. ‘With all these men around us, the young Emperor has ample protection. Everyone knows who he is, even without something sharp in his hand. There will be time enough for that later.’
Daneel watched on, entertained by the verbal exchange of the other two. ‘Perhaps he could order an execution,’ he suggested lightheartedly. ‘That would certainly convince everyone he is his father’s son.’
Scathingly, the commander frowned and Captain Orrell regretfully shook his head.
‘That’s enough of that, Daneel,’ the captain rebuked, and the one-eyed man bowed his head with mock regret, unable to resist a cheeky grin.
‘Very well,’ Riggadardian conceded, focussing instead on Leopold. ‘I will send someone to your cabin to help you choose appropriate clothing for the voyage. Once the battle is over and we have some time on our hands, we will arrange to school you in swordplay, battlefield tactics and strategies of war ... the rules of engagement and so forth—and whatever else you may require. Yes, much to be done in future days.’
‘I agree,’ Captain Orrell proclaimed.
Leopold had no complaints and left the men to their business. He roved the extents of the ship’s upper decks, rounding its perimeter and examining all the deck-side equipment that he had never seen before. There were blocks and pulleys, cleats and shackles, chainplates and turnbuckles, coils and lengths of rope in all directions, from thin cord to heavy sheets as thick as his arm, running from every part of the ship to every other like a tangle of spider webs. There was so much rope stowed upon the deck and spanning the heights that, laying it end to end, they could probably loop the end around his mother and pull her aboard. The amount of work that had gone into building such a vessel was inconceivable.
Despite the magnificence, the new sights and sounds soon lost their attraction and Leopold was left wandering back to his cabin.
Unsurprisingly, when he arrived, his father’s sword and scabbard were awaiting him, laid out neatly upon his bed.
****
It took three days before the call sounded that the towers of Cintar were in sight, and Leopold scuttled down from the masts of the Farstride, climbing down the ropes and webbing to alight on the deck.
He had spent the time learning the workings of the sails—much to Commander Riggadardian’s displeasure. The man had objected loudly at the idea and, when he caught Leopold climbing into the sails when his back was turned, he was distraught. It was Captain Orrell who calmed him and Leopold was glad for it, for otherwise he would have gone mad from boredom.
With the help of the amenable Captain Merryweather—a tall and capable fellow—Leopold obtained a standard crew outfit, more suited to clambering the sails than his tight-fitting emperor’s wear. The crew gave him questioning glances at first, and some yelled at him to get down before he broke his neck. When he put his attention to the ropes and showed aptitude for the task, the men noticed, approving.
Leopold asked them genuine, insightful questions about the workings of the ship, and they answered him with enthusiasm. He caught several of them laughing to each other and looking towards him. They never imagined their Emperor would one day be hanging beside them amongst the sails. Leopold thought being in the sails was quite natural, it was being an emperor that felt unusual.
Whenever Leopold was not in the sails, he humoured Commander Riggadardian by wearing one of the regal outfits organised for him. The white pants were not to his taste, while the jacket—decorated with the finest golden-threaded needlework—was quite handsome. Of all the clothing supplied to him, this was the only item he found appealing.
Now, as Cintar came into view, Leopold
returned to his cabin, changed into that one endurable suit, and strapped on his father’s sword as well as he could. He hurried onto the deck, where the grey-blue spires of the city were visible in the hazy distance. Despite his promises to keep both feet firmly on the decking when in his regal wear, he tiptoed up the first few rungs of a nearby rope ladder to gain a better view.
Lord Samuel, cloaked in customary black, appeared for the first time in days and stalked the foredeck to be beside Daneel, Captain Orrell and Commander Riggadardian as their fleet neared the city. Sailors and soldiers fled before him, creating a perpetual zone of emptiness around his girth that followed him across the decking.
As the bay came into sight, Captain Merryweather made the call to furl the sails and lay anchor. The other ships had already slowed, while the Farstride took by far the longest time to release the wind and rein in her vast momentum. Everything was done in its proper order, lest the forces harnessed by the vessel tear her apart. The teams acted methodically, shouting out in time to their work, lowering the yards and bundling the sails tightly one after another.
When they were positioned safely outside the rocks of the harbour with their nose pointing in, Merryweather commanded they hold their position.
A tremendous boom sounded as the two almighty anchors dropped from their housings, racing into the blue depths and dragging the links of enormous chain rattling behind.
Leopold had seen the mechanisms that controlled the colossal weights, hidden below the decks in two separate compartments where they could be engaged. If anyone ventured too near to those workings while in operation, they could be snapped up by the spinning cogs or levers and eviscerated in an instant. The men that tended the anchor housings had seen a fellow pulled in during testing and they warned Leopold sternly to keep his distance. The mess they described helped him to remember their advice.
The dark rocks that protected the harbour dwelt in front, soaked in milky plumes of spray that jetted up as waves rolled into each in turn. Beyond that, within the safety of the bay, many ships lay in wait, aligned and readied to defend the city. Behind them, the walls of Cintar rose, vast and impenetrable. Half the coast lay enshrouded by that towering stone barrier. Leopold was in awe of such immense constructions. Steeples peeked above them, along with the palace and its towers.
Striking up from the centre of the city, the grand palace was a marvel of pointed roofs and architectural splendour. Seakeep’s stony slab had prepared Leopold for more of the same, but the beauty of the coloured palace—as much as he could see—was breathtaking.
A variety of towers pointed to the sky around it: thick, thin, squarish, round. One stood out, impossibly high, so thin and narrow as it raised towards the sky that Leopold thought it should topple over. Then, looking to the other towers, he realised it was broader than all of them and only its incredible height made it appear so narrow. Breathtaking.
Having grazed his eyes upon the features of the city, his attention ventured to the landscape on either side. The ground was teeming with soldiers, which shocked Leopold, for he now realised their puny force of men and ships, as formidable as he thought it was, did not compare to what they faced. They should retreat before they foolishly angered the expectant hordes. A few beetles could not overthrow an ants’ nest.
‘We have not surprised them,’ Captain Orrell announced. ‘They knew we were coming.’
‘Of course,’ the magician replied dispassionately.
‘Where have they come from?’ Riggadardian asked in disbelief. ‘There was nothing like this in our reports. The Order should be scattered all over the country. We must retreat, before it is too late!’
‘Calm now, Commander,’ Lord Samuel told him. ‘I will even the odds for you.’
‘So what shall we do?’ Riggadardian went on. ‘We can fight our way into the harbour, but even if we get to the walls it will be pointless. We must be outnumbered a hundred to one!’
‘A thousand to one, or more,’ Daneel corrected, the scene having stolen away his characteristic smile.
Samuel, momentarily lost in thought, responded to the commander’s question. ‘Keep your fleet away from the rocks. Do not let them be drawn in. I will signal when it is safe to move.’
A laugh sounded beside them and the four turned their heads to find Toby at their side, climbed onto the railing and peering away with a look of mirth. It appeared he was pointing to the city. On closer inspection his joy was caused by a nearby gull floating upon the sea and calling with its squeaky, adolescent voice. He was not interested in the spectacle of Cintar or armies; the bird was far more appealing.
‘Get that foolish boy down from there,’ Samuel muttered. ‘Captain, get your men to lock him in his room. Let them beat him if he gives any bother. And look for the old man as well. If the boy’s here, he won’t be far, doddering about and readying to give us trouble.’
Orrell nodded and set men to the task. Most of the soldiers were dressed ready for war, donning their armour trimmed with Imperial gold and blue, crowding the decks expectantly. Toby giggled as he was carried away to his room, a wriggling pillow in the man’s arms.
Moments later the soldiers found Salu and were coaxing the obstinate fellow from his hiding spot, pulling him by the arms. Leopold had found a simple set of dull brown garments for the old man, and Salu no longer itched and scratched at himself so often. He moved along with them, protesting vocally, although unintelligibly, and waving his stick above their heads.
With the disruption over, Leopold’s attention returned to the bay.
A few defending craft inside the safe haven were moving out towards their fleet. The bulk, however, waited in place.
‘What are they up to?’ Riggadardian asked.
Daneel was the one to answer. ‘I’d wager they are hoping to lure us in closer, where they can pick us apart at their leisure. See? The smaller ships are bait to tempt us.’
‘Or they could be waiting for commands from their queen,’ Captain Orrell added. ‘She speaks directly into the ears of her troops. They do not use horns or signals of any kind; at least, none we have observed.’
‘What is he doing?’ Leopold asked of the captain beside him, for Lord Samuel had raised his chin to the sky and closed his eyes, basking in the face of the sun.
‘He is preparing. There will be a spell,’ Orrell whispered back, looking to the heavens in search for what might be transpiring there.
Leopold followed the captain’s gaze, and saw nothing unusual—a few wisps of white cloud curling about in the blue.
‘The witch is here,’ Samuel said, opening his eyes and levelling his gaze. ‘She has heard my call and retaliates; my assault will be first to arrive.’
‘What assault?’ Leopold asked, looking around in confusion. No one else displayed concern that nothing was happening.
‘Patience, young Emperor,’ Samuel told him. ‘The greatest spells take time to be known.’
Long silent minutes passed before the sound of murmuring rose across the men. Cries of excitement sounded from the other ships. Soldiers pressed in crowds to the handrails of the Farstride and those on the other vessels did the same, looking in every direction, searching. Many were peering below into the depths, many more were shouting and pointing towards the reef.
The rocks were growing out of the sea, rising up to block their view of the harbour like extending, blackened teeth; rather, it became evident the ocean was receding. Wide expanses of wet rock were already exposed, water pouring off them, creating multitudes of white cataracts.
Leopold wondered if their ships would be grounded, but the sea was deep here beneath their hull.
Inside the harbour however, the defending ships were quickly running short of clearance. Those closest to shore were already catching on bare sand and the vessels were tipping onto their sides with a groan of wood and shouts from their crews, some smashing over into each other. The retreating sea sank back rapidly. Those few ships that had come to lure them still had water beneath the
ir keels, but they were racing the tide, trying to escape from the bay before it emptied altogether.
Two were not quick enough. They struck the sea floor and toppled, then disappeared as the retreating water foamed over them, dragging and rolling them, tumbling them to pieces. The two remaining vessels were nearly free, but their predicament was equally precarious. The water was pulling them faster as it shallowed, squeezing out between the various rocks that edged the bay. The sea surged on the far side of the reef and the ships were thrown upon them. The crews yelled in fear as their vessels crashed and men jumped for their lives. Some made it to the rocks, but slipped on the treacherous stone and vanished into the boiling tide.
Somehow, one solitary figure survived, clambering up from the far side onto the dry of the rocks and shaking his fist towards Riggadardian’s fleet.
Back towards the shore, the harbour bottom was now bared, and hundreds of men had fallen or jumped from their tipped vessels, left staring at their ships in confusion, standing in shin-deep puddles. Countless fish and various sea creatures thrashed and wiggled upon the sand, and closer to the rocks, pastures of dark-green seaweed had been revealed, fallen flat and glistening in the sun.
‘But without any water how can we approach the city?’ Leopold asked aloud.
‘Don’t worry,’ Lord Samuel told him. ‘I do not take without giving. The water will return soon enough.’
Another bout of murmuring spread across the ships. Sailors have keen senses when it comes to movements upon the water, and they were wary of the unusual. Chains rattled and men held on tightly as their craft became agitated by something moving unseen below them. The Farstride barely stirred, yet the men fell quiet in response to her timbers creaking ominously beneath their feet.
The ship groaned and shifted, then gave a sudden jerk as the anchor lines pulled tight. Something was dragging them forward.
The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) Page 10