The other lands a-2

by David Anthony Durham

  Close lipped, Grae asked, "Do you so doubt me?"

  "No. If we did, you would not be here. Many have vouched for you. Hunt has watched Aushenia for years. He believes you are different from most in your class. We question you now only because you must understand our objective. It is not to wipe away corruption and replace it with new corruption."

  "So what sort of system do you foresee? When the Akarans are gone, who will rule?"

  "The people themselves."

  "The people themselves?" Grae checked other faces, apparently wondering if any found that as amusing as he did. "I trust you have a more detailed plan than that."

  Barad knew that was a reasonable supposition. He had been asked it many times before, and he had meditated on it quite often. He always returned to the same central conviction: what happened after the rising was not his concern. The people would have to face that themselves, together, in many different ways in all the many nations. He would be one among them, but he had no desire to impose his rule on them or to dictate what they should do with their freedom. His charge-given to him by the Giver and through Aliver's voice-was to break the shackles, to clear minds, to instill a belief in a better future. That was as far as it went. He knew there was danger in thinking thusly, for some men, like this king here, would surely grasp for the reins of power themselves, but this was as it had to be.

  He answered as he always did. "The people will do what they will with their freedom. They have earned that right many times over."

  "And if someone else tries to take Corinn's throne as his own?"

  "The people will make this change happen. They are tired, tired of trading one despot for another. I pity the man-or woman-who tries to reenslave them."

  Grae thought about this for a while. He fingered the stem of the chalice. "I was born a prince of Aushenia. It fell to me to become my people's king. I would just as soon it had not and that I still had my brother and father. But this crown is my fate. It is not my fate, though, to wear any other crown. I do not covet Corinn's empire. I want only Aushenia. My rule of it is a matter between me and my people. Will the Kindred acknowledge that?"

  Barad shrugged. "As I said, I will not dictate how people should live. Yes, that can be between you and the people of Aushenia." Nobody said anything, but several nodded curtly. "What of your brother? Might he not wish to be a king?"

  "A king of Aushenia, perhaps," Grae said, "but only if I venture to the marshes to hunt with Kralith-"

  Lady Shenk interrupted him. "Quit the Aushenian poetry and speak plain. You mean to say only if you die, right?"

  "Only then," Grae said curtly. "I swear to you that my brother and I are of one mind on this. How about this, then? I'll pledge you my people's support. Aushenia will join this rising, and when it's accomplished we will demand only our freedom to live as we will, to our benefit."

  "I do not acknowledge your right to pledge other people's support," Barad said. "I am already well known to your people. Many are already friends of the Kindred." He let this sit a moment, but not long enough for Grae to respond. "I will, however, welcome your personal support, and I will welcome you using your influence in whatever ways help the people's cause. Do any disagree?"

  Nobody did.

  "Good," Barad said. "Then there is only one other thing I must ask you. You should know that there is a reason I want you with us. Although the Kindred will not win by war alone, war is to be a part of what's to come. We have some warriors in our ranks, but we need a leader for them. You could be that leader. You have been trained for such things. When Corinn tries to squash us with her Marah, her army, her Numrek, will you lead our military?"

  Grae grinned, youthful and arrogant and comfortable in himself again. He asked the room, "The queen would never dream that her fate would be sealed in the back room of a grimy pub in Denben, would she?" To Barad he said, "I would like nothing more than to lead our warriors. All my soldiers will say the same."

  "We have an agreement on that, then. I may want even more of you, though. Let's start by traveling together-perhaps with your younger brother as well, if you truly believe he will join our cause. I will show you both some of the world as I see it. Perhaps you will find the view different from the one seen atop a throne."

  "You are an odd man, Barad the Lesser. They tell me you were a strong man in your youth. Perhaps you still are. When all this is over, you and I should compete together. Will you run the Killintich race against me?"

  "I do not think that's a race I could win, but if you wish… Drink now, King, and be one of us."

  Barad watched as the young man lifted the chalice and tilted it back. The boy was brash. Perhaps he would be a danger. Or perhaps he would die like his half brother. Barad then let his eyes wander around the rest of the company. He liked what he saw. He did not claim to predict the particulars of the future. But he did know at his very core that a great change was coming. Soon. Soon they would rise. It was, he believed, all coming together. Her highness would be dumbfounded when it hit her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Dariel had been warned that the isles of the Barrier Ridge-the home of the Lothan Aklun-made a horizon-long barricade of stone, but his imaginings had not prepared him for the actual sight of them. From a distance, and with the changing light of the rising sun slanting from behind the Ambergris, the island chain looked like mountains dusted with a cover of snow that clung to the few flat surfaces. He watched them from near the ship's bow. As he stared the peaks grew in height in a manner that seemed unnatural, more motion to it than should be, more, too, than just the lessening of distance. On one hand they were a strange solidity viewed by eyes used to the motion of the ocean waves. Yet for all the gray-stone hardness of them Dariel could not shake the feeling that the entire landmass was moving. It seemed to be ever slicing southward, like the spine of a surfacing whale.

  "It's the current that does that."

  Dariel pulled his eyes away from the scene long enough to acknowledge Sire Neen, who had just joined him at the railing, Rialus at his shoulder.

  "The current flows strongly to the north this time of year. The waves rushing along the coastline make it seem as if the land is moving. But I assure you it's not. It's just a trick of the eye. The angerwall we'll have to cross is very real, however, and a result of the same phenomenon." Sire Neen smiled, showing his rounded teeth. "I imagine that your eyes have not yet seen the islands for what they actually are. Look again more closely. We're near enough now."

  Dariel looked back at the coastline. The rocks rose into a vertical blockade, and for most of the ridge's dark expanse there was no sign of habitation. He almost asked why it seemed empty of life. But before he did, he realized that the light areas he had thought snow were actually buildings. He'd had the scale all wrong. The peaks were higher, and the dustings of snow were actually structures several stories tall. Built all along the highest points and thrown loosely about the high cliffs was a spidery lacework, a combination of nature and architectural design.

  "Oh." He saw something else. What he had taken to be one solid landmass was in fact many islands. That was why it was so hard to see the scale. Some of the peaks were far beyond the nearer ones. Each was a jagged point thrust directly up from the water. They were not approaching a continent with mountains. They were approaching thousands of separate peaks, massive islands that hid the greater part of their bulk in the black depths.

  "Yes, 'Oh,' is right," Sire Neen said.

  It was not long before Dariel observed the next surprise. The current rushing to the north got more and more powerful as they drew nearer land. It ripped along the coastline as fast as a river in flood. A ship tossed against the rocks would certainly be smashed to splinters. That was frightening enough, but as they approached a wide gap behind the first of the barrier islands through which they obviously intended to sail, he saw what must be the angerwall Sire Neen had referred to.

  Clearing the point of land, the ocean current's interaction was suddenly that of
rushing water against the comparatively slack water. Marking the dividing line between the two was a seething wall of water several stories high. The current moved past, while the channel water swirled and roiled, bucking up in great heaving swells, unevenly timed, as if angry creatures were trying to breech but could not break the skin of the water.

  "Ah…," Rialus said but got no further vocalizing his thoughts than that.

  "'Oh' and Ah.'" Sire Neen chuckled. "You make a fine duo."

  The Ambergris approached at speed, angling across the current and toward the channel. The wind was with them, and they plowed through the rising and falling waves with incredible force, almost as if they wished to crash directly into the island itself. Dariel had done some daring things in his career as a brigand, but now they were traveling at open-ocean speed, careening either into a wall of rock or over a wall of water-he wasn't sure which. The lookout called something, as did the captain, and then a bell began to toll. Sire Neen said something, but Dariel did not hear what it was.

  He was still staring when a crewman grasped him by the shoulder and pulled him hurriedly toward the center of the deck. He joined Sire Neen, Rialus, and others at the benches that encircled the base of one of the masts. The crewman shoved him down without ceremony and, with a few deft motions, secured a rope around his waist. Tied to the mast, Dariel looked around to see that the others were likewise secured. Many crewmen still dashed about the ship, but when the tolling of the bell increased in rapidity they all scrambled for something to hold.

  The bell stopped. For a few moments the only sounds were the wind and the rush of water. And then the bow of the massive ship punched over the current wall and crashed down into the slack water. The prow dove and the stern tilted up into the air, and then the entire ship began to pitch and roll at the same time. The force of it pulled Dariel in one direction and then the next, smacking his head hard on the wooden mast behind him. If he had not been tied down he would certainly have been tossed into the air. Indeed, some of the crewmen were. Dariel saw sailors dangling sideways in the air, holding on to lines for dear life. The hull of the ship groaned and quivered. There was a tearing sound deep in the vessel, and Dariel feared the entire ship would be torn to pieces. And then he feared it would stay whole but conclude this mad maneuver upside down.

  The ship corkscrewed to starboard in a manner that shoved Dariel's guts up against his diaphragm, pushing the air from his lungs. The roiling wraith of the agitated water surged up over the railing. The sailors there went completely under water and stayed submerged for some time. The ship balanced on its side, the tips of the masts sunk deep into the water, sails billowing with the current. It seemed an impossibly long moment-a breath held and held and held-before the Ambergris finally made up its mind and began the slow roll back upright.

  The sailors who had been submerged gasped as they hit the air. Dariel felt just as empty of air as they, just as hungry for breath. A different noise rose from the ship's bowels: shouts of rage from the chained Numrek. He had not seen them the entire voyage, but they made themselves heard now. Dariel had to shade his brow to get his bearings. They were, he concluded, in the lee of the island. Actually, they were even moving forward, away from the current and into the maze of mountain islands before them. He did not try to hide the astonishment on his face.

  In answer, Sire Neen offered, "We've found forceful penetration to be the best method of entry." His voice had the same calm tone he used at the council table, and his smile was so incongruous at the moment that the sight of it gave Dariel an instant headache or somehow alerted him to the pounding pain already all around his skull. "There is nothing worse, you see, than getting trapped between the two currents. One has no control at all then. We'll have to explain to the Numrek that we could've had a much rougher ride than that. It's not for the timid, I know, but we of the league are not timid."

  Dariel stood with Rialus as the Ambergris spent the next hour threading its way through the islands. They progressed at a cautious speed, but it was still strange to watch such a large vessel navigate the narrow channels. Apparently, the peaks dove into the water at the same steep angle as they rose above it, making the waterways clean routes. At times they skimmed so near the submerged slopes that he could see far down through the clear waters. The long-legged crabs on the stones gave the depths perspective, growing smaller and smaller until they faded into blackness. A few times, he thought he saw human forms floating among them, but the water-clear as it was-was deceiving him. Watching the crustaceans gave him a queasy feeling almost like vertigo, as if he might fall from the deck, through the water, and down and down into the depths.

  A clipper came out from a harbor as they passed and sliced cleanly through the water toward them. It was a small ship, built for speed, and so dwarfed beside the Ambergris that it took Dariel a moment to figure out why the sight of it was so remarkable. It had no sail, nor any oars. It dipped and slipped through the water with no visible indication of how it did so. There was something to it that he was not seeing. Perhaps the league had developed some see-through sailcloth. That would be handy in many ways. But there were no masts either. It was amazing, bizarre, frightening even to see a ship move so unnaturally. Dariel leaned over the railing as the clipper drew up alongside the Ambergris. That surprised him as well-that a small vessel could dock with a moving ship-which appeared to be what it was doing.

  It did not hold his complete attention. His neck grew sore from craning between the strange craft and the structures perched high and strung across the rock walls. They looked like they had been built by some sort of bird people who were in love with the heights. He thought of Mena-bird-goddess that she was-and wished she were with him to see this. Who were these Lothan Aklun? For that matter, where were they? He had yet to see any signs of life on the islands. They passed several docks, complete with buildings and boats and equipment, but they were all strangely still. He had not seen any boats other than the clipper. That made no sense. The waters should be teeming with vessels moving between the islands.

  "I see Aklun architecture impresses you," Sire Neen said. He had been away conferring with the other leagueman. When he rejoined the prince, he seemed to be in uncharacteristically good humor. He even rocked on his toes as he spoke, a childish energy animating him. "It should. Until now, we've never figured out just what material the Lothan Aklun work in. They seem to have been able to shape stone as if it were a liquid."

  "'Until now'?"

  Sire Neen shrugged. "Oh, I suspect we will understand it soon. That I'm very confident of."

  Dariel found the leagueman's sudden enthusiasm unnerving. He let his eyes roam away. "It's incredible," he said, speaking honestly. "I knew we were coming to it, but it somehow didn't feel real. The Lothan Aklun… It's still hard to believe I'll finally set eyes on them."

  Sire Neen made a noise that was hard to read, a slight expulsion of air that might have been an indication of amusement. "That much I know to be true. Prince, you might as well know that we were preceded by another league vessel. They should have arrived a fortnight ago, bearing a message of our coming."

  "Oh," Dariel said, though his actual thoughts were somewhat more pointed. The leagueman's statement was made casually enough, but the hairs on the back of Dariel's neck bristled. "Why didn't you mention this earlier?"

  "League vessels travel back and forth at will. It would not interest you to know all our shipping itineraries, would it?"

  With a nod, Dariel conceded that was true enough. "Why mention it now, then?"

  "Just to prepare you for the day."

  What sort of answer is that? Dariel thought. He was about to voice the question, but Sire Neen turned his attention to Rialus, who was staring at the league clipper. It had peeled away from the hull as they spoke. It kept perfect pace with them, but still used neither sail nor oar nor any other source of propulsion that Dariel could make out.

  "You're wondering what powers that boat, aren't you, Neptos?" Sire Neen asked.
"Of course you are. No doubt you've thought the same question, Prince, perhaps feared to ask it… I'll tell you. It's powered by souls." He let that sit for a moment in silence, and then looked at the two men, his face a portrait of good humor. "Souls have power, you know. Your Highness should know that as well as anyone. You released more souls at one moment than any other person I've known of. Did you not feel their power?"

  There was nothing in his tone or expression to indicate anything other than levity, but Dariel's pulse hammered at his temple, a warning alarm so loud he feared the man might hear it. Leaguemen didn't make jokes. They didn't show emotion. Or they didn't show their true emotions, at least. He knew Sire Neen must be feeling something completely different from his outward appearance. He had to be. If he wasn't, what could possibly have brought on this playful barbed mood?

  "You refer to the platforms," Dariel said. And saying it, he remembered the flash of light at his back when the platforms exploded, the fear that the inferno was reaching out for him, the knowledge that the man he thought of as a father was riding those flames up to death. For many, that act of sabotage made him a hero. He had never thought of it that way, though, and the memory filled him with regret. There was power in freeing all those souls from all those bodies, but not the kind of power he wanted to be reminded of.