by P D Ceanneir
Female Falesti swarmed over the ship. There were twenty-five in all, tall bronzed, blonde, or brown-haired women, wearing short leather skirts with brass and jade broaches around the hems, bronze-rimmed green linen brassieres with thin sleeveless vests barely covering their breasts. Each was armed with short swords and several carried bows and arrows. Whyteman explained to the prince that these young women were a form of warrior elite that safeguarded the Atyds should they travel between Eldoms.
‘We call them the Wyvern Filial, “Wyvern” is the mythical female equivalent of a Drakken, mainly because they can be just as fierce, and “Filial” stems from our old word for offspring,’ said Whyteman with a look of longing. ‘By the way, they have taken vows of celibacy.’
Havoc was relieved to hear it. The looks from the crew and his Paladins he noted were ones of lust, but they were not returned, scathingly ignored in fact. Tia, on the other hand, was smiling and saying hello to any male that caught her eye, somehow this worried him more than the scantily clad Falesti women. He would have to keep an eye on her.
Lord Ness introduced the prince to the ship’s captain and, to his surprise, he was not a Falesti.
‘This is Captain Danyil,’ said the Ri, pointing out a handsome man of medium height. His long, wavy, light brown hair was tied back by a bandanna, he had a tanned weather-beaten face with twinkling blue eyes and heavily tattooed arms. He was currently topless with only black leather breeches and cuffed boots on as he was helping some of the crew stow away thick ropes.
‘Danyil, why does that name sound familiar?’ said Havoc.
‘He was the captain of the cargo ship that helped Lady Vara, Shanks and I escape from Dulan-Tiss. He impressed me so much that I asked him to captain the Cybeleion.’
Danyil shouted out some more orders to his men as he walked towards the prince and the Ri, he looked unruly and arrogant to Havoc, but he certainly could put a ship in order and the men jumped to the sound of his voice.
‘Prince Havoc, I must say I expected you to be older,’ said Danyil with a low bow. He had a smooth, educated voice; the accent was Sonoran.
‘I get that a lot,’ replied Havoc as looked around the ship at the rest of the crew. Most were male, wearing light blue trousers and tatty white shirts, ‘so is this your own crew, captain?’
‘Some are. Others are volunteers that I have had…contracts with,’ he said with a slight shrug. ‘They all have experience in sailing Sky Ships. Have you any experience in sailing Sky Ships, my Lord?’
‘Not really, only crashing them.’
‘Then I hope we don’t put your skills to the test,’ smiled Danyil. ‘I’m eager to be off, my lord, and give this ship a trial run. I believe we are waiting for the rest of the Falesti male infantry to give us a full complement then we can depart.’
‘I agree, let us leave as soon as we can.’
‘Then all of your people are on board?’ said the captain and Havoc nodded, ‘that’s good, one of your small friends arrived yesterday.’ He pointed up into the rigging when the prince gave him a perplexed look. Danyil shouted loudly so his voice could carry to the starboard mast. Ropes and pulleys, extensively networked under the sail compared with other Sky Ships, mainly used to take sailors up into the large canopy-sail. There was movement and shouts as sailors passed on the captain’s message throughout the rigging, someone short shouted back and swung down to the deck using a levered pulley system. The running line ran so fast that the individual shot downwards like a stone before he pulled one end of the rope to brake against the pulley and so slow his decent
‘Whoa, I’ve always wanted to do that!’ said Gunach as he tied his end of the rope onto the mast's cleat.
‘Gunach!’ shouted Havoc in surprise, relieved that his bad day was looking better now that his old friend was here. He, Powyss and several other Paladins welcomed the dwarf who smiled up at them all with his friendly bearded face.
‘He’s been like a big kid,’ chuckled the captain, ‘we have tried to get him out of the rigging for hours in case he hurts himself. Having a dwarf on board a ship is lucky you see.’
‘I’m sorry, Gunach,’ said Havoc, ‘I did not think you would come on this trip and leave your people.’
‘Not to worry Kervunder, but I came on the behest of Captain Danyil, he wants an armourer on board, and I gave him the best.’
‘Who was that then?’ said Powyss with a straight face.
‘Me, obviously,’ the dwarf looked genuinely hurt, Powyss and Havoc both grinned.
‘I thought dwarves did not like heights?’ asked Lord Ness.
‘Heights, my lord Ri, are not a problem until one meets the lows at speed,’ said the dwarf in a very serious manner and Ness Ri actually burst out laughing.
By midday Barnum had marched a hundred of his own brown armour infantry onto the ship, making up the Cybeleion’s final complement of crew. As the Falesti infantry stowed away their gear in the bunkrooms next to the hold, Falesti on the ground started to unpin the anchors. Barnum left without a word; Havoc kept his distance from him anyway.
The prince and his friends watched from behind the helm, on the forward upper deck, as winches pulled up the anchors with a grinding crunch. The Cybeleion bobbed several feet above the ground and with a nod from Danyil the helmsman shifted a brass lever over a command dial etched with Skrol symbols, incanting Skrol as he did so. The result was instantaneous, the Sky Ship shot upward at breakneck speed causing everyone to fall to his or her knees and yell.
Ness Ri slowed the ascent by turning to the nearest Orrinn Tower and whispering softly to it, the Cybeleion stopped just above the low cloud line as a strong wind rushed over the deck.
Captain Danyil stood up and brushed himself off. He gave his helmsman a savage scowl.
‘Sorry sir,’ said the helmsman, unconsciously hiding behind the wheel of the helm, ‘wrong incantation.’
‘Well it’s not that bad,’ said Danyil sarcastically, ‘at least we went up instead of down. Now head east by north east, ten knots.’
‘Aye aye, sir.’
Chapter 15
Tenk of Mubea
Lord Ketrigan was worried.
His contact within Dulan-Tiss had called him to a meeting, which in itself was not strange, but the urgency was. He walked briskly towards their usual meeting place in the sepulchre of the My’thos Temple on the outskirts of the city, hoping that the information he would receive would be worthwhile. He knew something was happening; nobles from across the land had arrived in droves, but why? The Ancarryn was over and they had no need to be here if they were not meeting in the Chambers of Parliament, which he knew was now in recess, so what were they up to? He did not know and he did not like not knowing.
The sepulchre was cool and dank when he entered through the wrought iron gates at the altar end of the temple. The stairs were narrow and steep and his footfalls echoed around the room’s high arched pillars and stone crypts that sat in neat rows along the walls of the large room. Omar, his contact, had seen fit to light the torches and wall sconces, which cast eerie shadows into the sepulchre's high-pillared corners.
The torchlight also revealed a body lying next to an ornate granite tomb in the centre of the room.
Ketrigan unsheathed his sword as he ran to the body. It was a dark skinned male in his late fifties, his throat slit, blood had pooled around the base of the tomb where he lay.
‘Omar!’ gasped Ketrigan as he pulled the corpse around to see his face. Omar el Alief had been a close friend of his and a clever spy. He had found him in the desert lands of Mubea as a five-year-old urchin and trained him to be his contact in the citadel where he used his cover as a trader to good effect.
‘I’m afraid Omar has outlived his usefulness, Ketrigan,’ said a deep, educated voice behind him. Ketrigan spun around, sword raised. The speaker was tall, cloaked in a fine scarlet hooded cloak, black trousers and boots. His sword had a long narrow blade that shone like chrome and reflected the flames from the torches.
‘So too have you,’ he added and walked towards Ketrigan with long purposeful strides.
Before the spy could make a move, a strong gale washed over him. Unseen filaments of air picked him up and sent him spinning to the other side of the sepulchre. He concentrated on banishing the summoned elements, and with some success, but another gust slammed into him from his left side and threw him against the nearest stone crypt.
The spy quickly recovered, which was just as well because his attacker had rushed forward and lunged. Ketrigan blocked the blade and counter-attacked with a ferocious swipe to his opponent's chest and followed this up with an upward stoke designed to unbalance his antagonist, but the scarlet-cloaked stranger shifted so quickly and blocked with such expert precision that Ketrigan knew he was up against a Rawn with remarkable sword skill.
The spy summoned the energy from the fire element to make the flames in the sconces burst brightly and flow outwards to wrap around the stranger in a tight cage. The cloaked attacker spread his arms wide shattering the cage and forcing a backwash of air all around him. The force pushed Ketrigan into an ungainly tumble and he struck one of the pillars. On looking up he saw the stranger lift a clawed hand towards him. Something behind Ketrigan started to crack and he rolled to his right just as the middle of the marble pillar exploded. Shards of the marble thumped into him as he stood up and he waved a hand to turn the shattered particles into fine dust, but to his astonishment his summoning of the earth element was blocked. The pieces of the pillar hung in the air around him and fused together into a circle surrounding his body and clamping his arms tightly to his torso. Blended energy from the water element rippled through the circle of stone to give it more mobility. He screamed as intolerable heat fused the stone ring in place, burning his arms and chest.
Fear ripped through him. Only a powerful Ri could use all four elements at the same time in such a manner. The scarlet-clad stranger walked towards him, chuckling. Ketrigan tried in vain to break free from the ring and lift his sword to defend himself, but his opponent knocked it from his hand and then the hooded figure rammed his own sword into his gut, making him groan in agony as the long blade punched through his back, narrowly missing his spine.
‘Omar was kind enough to give me the names of your other informants’, said the stranger, ‘I will be able to use them within my own network.’
‘Who are you?’ gasped Ketrigan as he tried to heal the flesh around the blade in his stomach.
‘I go by many names, but those closest to me in the Brethac Ziggurat call me Lord Sernac.’
‘Sernac...’ Ketrigan sounded surprised and his eyes widened, ‘so you do exist.’
‘Indeed I do, my clever little spy. You have evaded me for a long time, Ketrigan, commendable if a little futile. Know that, for you, existence is at an end.’ With that he extracted his sword from Ketrigan’s body and decapitated him with expert ease.
Lord Sernac chuckled to himself as he pushed the stone crypt's lid to one side and dumped Omar and the spy’s body, and head, inside; with any luck they would never be found. He brushed the dust from his hands as he walked out of the sepulchre, pleased that he had found the Rogun king's main spy and dispatched him. Now he was free to use Ketrigan’s informants in any way he wished, thereby increasing the power of the Brethac Ziggurat.
Overall, it was turning out to be a good day.
The last time Serena was at the Rings of Dulan it had been a stormy night. Now, the sun shone down upon the standing stones from its zenith. A large crowd had gathered, mostly Rawn Nobles of far-flung Vallkyte lands, the Queen of Sonora and King Kasan. Amongst this illustrious group were three Ri’s; Nestor, Fowyn and Varix stood in the centre next to the dais table, chatting affably.
Serena knew that all here were members of the secret order of the Brethac Ziggurat; she was standing amongst most of the cream of Vallkyte nobility and felt a rush of pride and power because of it.
Two equestrians galloped up to the standing stones from the direction of the citadel. One was Saltyn Ri the other was Lord Sernac, clad, as always, in his scarlet cloak, hooded to hide his face. The king stepped forward as his consul reined in his mount, ‘any word from my spies, Saltyn?’
‘Yes sir, the Cybeleion did leave five days ago, heading north east,’ panted Saltyn as he dismounted. Lord Sernac stayed on his white mare looking around the tall stones and at the others that had gathered. None of them retained eye contacts with him for more than a second.
‘They head for Tenk of Mubea,’ answered the king, ‘then we have no time to waste if we want this to work. Varix, activate the stones.’
A tall thin faced Ri walked up to the nearest stone and placed his hand on it. He murmured a cantrip of Skrol which caused a surge of energy throughout its energy matrix and the finely carved Skrol markings glowed under the stones lichen-covered surface. A pulse of bright light echoed from all of the stones and the ground vibrated with conduit energy.
Another Ri, with dark bushy eyebrows and short white hair, walked up to the king and Cinnibar.
‘Between Varix, Fowyn and myself,’ said Nestor, in his smooth rich and confident voice, his eyes were wary as they flicked up towards Lord Sernac, ‘and the other Rawns of course, we can create a powerfully destructive storm. However, it will be multi-directional and the chances of hitting the quest ship with the full force of the storm will be lessened if we do not know where it is at that time.’
‘I understand your concerns, Nestor Ri,’ said Kasan, ‘we have taken that into consideration.’ He turned to his aunt and nodded, Cinnibar pulled out a Lobe Stone from the folds of her purple Havant cloak.
‘This one’s partner is on board the Cybeleion, Master Ri, it will take the storm straight to it.’
‘Excellent, my lady, that will do nicely,’ smiled Lord Nestor.
‘A cunning plan, my dear, but to direct a storm of the magnitude you desire,’ said Lord Sernac, as he looked down at them from his mount, ‘you will require a vast amount of energy. The greater the distance, the less effect the storm has.’
Lord Nestor seemed a little agitated as he looked from Sernac to Cinnibar, ‘I am afraid he is right, your majesty.’
Cinnibar was frowning at Sernac, her face pale and harrowed but her voice belayed no sign of fatigue. ‘You did not mention any concerns about this plan the other day…master.’
‘You forget, my dear, that I am a Terraseer, the future is open to me.’
There was silence amongst the crowd of onlookers. Cinnibar pursed her lips and Kasan and the Ri remained poised, as if some revelation was about to be vouchsafed from Sernac.
‘So,’ hissed Cinnibar tersely, ‘are you saying the plan is doomed?’
Lord Sernac said nothing. With a quick, fluid motion he dismounted and walked towards the stone ring. Anyone in his path quickly moved out of his way. He stepped up onto the stone dais and turned back to Cinnibar.
‘Continue with the plan,’ he ordered, ‘I will do what I can to add power to it's force.’ With that, he incanted Skrol, the stones flashed, there was a loud crackling noise and the mysterious Lord Sernac vanished.
The ease in which the Cybeleion glided through the air was amazing. There was hardly a judder when the strong east winds buffeted the ship. The new arrivals were later to learn that the Wind Orrinns, housed inside their iron towers, automatically compensated to “external forces” making the flight smooth and sky-sickness free.
They travelled east over the large expanse of the Mariners Ocean and high in the cloudy atmosphere to try to get the crew used to the thinner air at that altitude. At nightfall the crew lit gas lanterns around the deck and food was served in the crew galley. Most of the crew, the Wyvern Filial and the infantry ate in the main mess hall. Havoc, Ness Ri and his Paladins were all welcome to eat at the captain’s table. Danyil sat at the head of the long chestnut table and, by the rules of the highest nobility, Havoc was to sit at the other end, but he allowed Tia that honour being the only female present while he and Ness Ri sat wi
th the captain facing each other. The Ri had not uttered a word to Tia, being happy to just ignore her. Havoc realised that this was very unlike his master and it emphasised the level of mistrust he had in the Havant Priestess.
‘At this speed we should make Tenk of Mubea the day after tomorrow, faster than a sailing ship. We are going to Tenk are we not? We would need to put up supplies of fresh fruit, anyway.’ said Danyil, and Lord Ness nodded as the soup was served. ‘Well, I will run gun drills tomorrow to train the men. You can come and watch, my Lord.’ He said this to Havoc, who agreed. Earlier, he had walked with the captain below decks for a short time and made a mention to inspect the batteries later.
Bread, soup and platters of sweet meats were served and hungry mouths were filled. Murmured conversations passed around the table as they ate. Captain Danyil’s officers were also there. His first officer, Tyban, a short man with a shock of blonde hair and a fluffy moustache, sat next to the imposing figure of Little Kith and was instantly dwarfed by him. He was a strange and quiet man who talked more to his pet, a wide-eyed lemur called Chichi; he also seemed to have adopted Mirryn, who constantly bullied him for tasty morsels. His second officer was called Lung (no one was sure if it was a nickname), who was also short but wiry, with narrow almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones and a bald head with a ponytail, which was knotted into plaits, hanging down his back. He was a native of a far western country that most at the table had never heard of. Orlam, the ships navigator, was still a fresh-faced boy of twenty-two, though he had sailed most of his young life and was one of those fellows that always had his head in a book. Havoc liked him; he was well educated and humorous in an innocent way. The last was Zabel, the ship’s doctor and a native of the Mubean desert nomads. Dark wrinkled skinned, with a long, curved moustache and short black hair. Traditionally he would wear a colourful turban, but never permitted at the dining table. He sat silent and watchful, his brown eyes never missed a movement and his ears, ringed and studded in dozens of gold earrings, twitched at every voice.