by P D Ceanneir
As he neared the edge, the second Guardian slid into place with a smooth rumble. He was running at full speed when something slammed into the guardian’s surface just twenty feet behind him. The shockwave knocked him to the ground and he slid on the snowy surface and off the edge. Luckily, he landed on the third block as it slid into position. He looked up and saw that several of the Sky Ships were firing flaming missiles from their catapults. Two more strikes slammed onto the guardian-block that he had just vacated. As he watched, the ships were positioning themselves for another volley. He got up and sprinted, zigzagging as he went. More shots rained down amongst the shifting blocks, most falling short. The movements of the Guardians were hampering the ships as they manoeuvred around them. Havoc reached the edge of the third block, but the fourth Guardian was some distance yet and he had nowhere to go as three of the enemy Sky Ships moved closer, close enough for him to hear the command of fire from the officers operating the catapults.
The shots never came. The Vallkyte ships turned east to a new threat coming towards them. Havoc looked up and saw the sun blocked by a dark shape. It was the unmistakable form of the Cybeleion and her height and angle of attack gave her an advantage. As the prince watched, he saw four burning missiles leave the quest ship’s forward cannons at immeasurable speed. The loud racket of sporadic cannon fire reached him seconds later, and he smiled in glee as the closest Vallkyte tried to veer away from the cannon fire. Unfortunately, they had little time to avoid the shots as the rounds struck her deck from bow to stern. The force of the missiles split the ship in half down the middle of it’s bow section sending a balloon of wooden splinters and mashed men into the chill northern air.
Havoc noticed the fourth block slide into place and he sprinted over it. The Gateway of Death was edging closer and the wall of cloud covering the Isle of the Dead was approaching at the same speed and from the opposite direction.
Aluna was putting up a sturdy defence, even in her weakened state, and Lord Ness helped by blasting away the arrows with the Wind Element. However, some got through and at this distance, with her other wounds so numerous, they stuck and stuck deeply into her thick hide. She roared as more hit her and she sent a blast of cold air into the trees, freezing them to the core and any soldier that got in the way.
It was Fowyn Ri who tipped the balance. He dodged a swiping claw and brought his long sword upwards, slashing the Ice Drake’s throat. A long gout of blood pulsed out of the wound and she reared up in pain, throwing Lord Ness from his mount on her back. The Ri flipped round as he sailed over the gateway and landed on the first Guardian section, skidding to a halt whilst crouching. He watched in dread as Fowyn spread his arms wide and sent a strong gust of the third element into the dragon’s leathery wings, which caught the blast and sent her over the edge of the cliff, tumbling end over end into the cold mists below.
Lord Ness had no time to mourn her passing; he turned and ran after the prince.
The Cybeleion sailed on, into the other Sonoran ships at a steady seven knots, her superior advantage with her cannon now well proven as she could hit ships at a distance keeping her well out of range of enemy catapults. Although the smaller ships could move and turn quicker, they never had the joy of being able to fire a full battery head on, as the Cybeleion could. The Vallkyte Sky Ships desperately manoeuvred into a position to turn broadside in order to fire their full armament, this however, presented the Quest Ship with a larger target. Captain Danyil knew the tactics of the other ships; they would circle him out of range from the cannons and then dart in for the kill two at a time, so he gave them their chance.
The Trillion and the Azzartion eventually saw an opening and split to move upwind of the Cybeleion’s course, shifting either side of her just as she came into range. Timing was the key and Captain Danyil guessed he had valuable seconds over the other ships as they loaded catapults and closed in. He gave the order to fire port and starboard cannons simultaneously. The Trillion, on the quest ship’s starboard side, never had time to turn and fire as the cannon slammed into her stern, sending splintered fragments around the deck. One lucky hit destroyed the helm wheel, so the mechanism that moved the Wind Orrinn in its cradle locked to veer into a continuous starboard path, and she started spinning around uncontrollably.
The Azzartion fared better and unleashed her catapults quicker, showing a disciplined gun crew. The hollow iron balls that ejected from the portholes raked along the aft castle of the Cybeleion, tearing open a long gash on the aft port side and killing the catapult crew there. However, because of her speed, the Cybeleion managed to avoid the full barrage and the cannon crews opened fire as the Vallkyte vessel’s full port side came into view. At this range, there was no chance of missing. The cannon balls pummelled the Azzartion violently as the screaming rounds hit her decks and rigging repeatedly. The Cybeleion’s gun crew loosed their missiles one after the other as they unleashed their devastating broadside. Broken deck planks leaped upwards along the entire length of the enemy ship as the rounds struck. On deck, the crew went spinning into the air amidst the explosions, sails and masts collapsed around the mashed ship and the port outrigger flapped uselessly in the breeze. Miraculously, the ship’s Wind Orrinn was still active; keeping it aloft, but with no sail the Azzartion was dead in the air.
The Cybeleion’s speed helped in the attack, but now it became a hindrance. Looming into view from the east was the larger Sonoran Vessel Carillion, her light grey sails and bulky outline were unmistakable as the quest ship exited the smoke and debris cloud that issued from the Azzartion. There were obvious looks of shock on the faces of enemy ship’s crew as they all stared in obvious surprise at the sheer size and speed of the Cybeleion. The huge ship loomed large before them with no intention of slowing down.
‘Brace!’ shouted Danyil to his crew and everyone leapt for something solid to hold onto.
The captain of the Carillion ordered the helmsman to swing hard to starboard to avoid the approaching ship. This was to no avail, the hard thick resin on the Cybeleion’s port side cracked under the pressure of the impact. The living tree that formed the bulk of the massive ship screamed in protest as pain racked her fibrous bodywork, everyone on-board was jarred forward as the ship came to a standstill. The Carillion’s port side buckled and then imploded as the quest ship ploughed along her side. The rigging of both ships meshed and tangled. The dead weight of the Carillion started to pull the Cybeleion down towards the mist-filled valley below.
Tia saw an opportunity as the tangled ships floated closer to the bridge that was once the free-floating Guardians, she could jump and trust in her abilities to get her safely to the ground. She could see that Lord Ness needed her help, he was about to be overrun by the small Vallkyte force chasing him along the bridge. Several hundred yards further along the interlocking construction was the small speck of the De Proteous. She judged that the Ri needed her sword the most.
She heard Captain Danyil order the cannon to fire at the Carillion at point blank range to shake the ship off her sails and to nullify its crew attempting to board the quest ship, which they were in the process of doing as they rushed around their deck with grappling hooks and cutlasses.
Suddenly, something long and white zoomed past both ships. It was a small Sky Ship, sleek in design with a small crew. Tia laughed when she saw Foxe wave at her with a bright smile. The Licessia flew by Lord Ness who ducked as the ship whooshed over him. It hit the bridge with a jarring thump, bounced twice, and then slid side on just as it ploughed through the Vallkyte soldiers, smearing the first rank into red pulp as it came to a halt.
Tia climbed onto the railing. Beside her, Orlam grabbed her arm.
‘Lady Tia! What are you doing?’ he sounded aghast.
She gave him a big smile. ‘The captain has things in order here; I’m going to step out for a bit.’ She jumped, executing a perfect swallow dive and then twisted around to land feet first on the Glammerstone block a good fifty feet below. The snow on the bridge’s surfa
ce turned to powder as she used the Wind Element to slow her landing. Above her, the Carillion’s deck obliterated into giant splinters as the final volley of the Cybeleion’s cannon and catapults destroyed her hull and ripped her loose from the quest ship with the kinetic force of the missiles. It’s burning hulk fell from the sky. Tons of wood scattered in all directions as some of it landed on the bridge, which held under the onslaught without the slightest vibration.
Tia groaned as wood fragments rained around her. Pieces of the ruined hull of the ship blocked the route to the prince, although she knew he had his own task to accomplish, she still wished she were with him.
She turned instead in the opposite direction, trotting to catch up with Lord Ness who smiled as she approached; he jerked his head towards the white ship.
‘Shall we go and help Commander Powyss, Mistress Tia?’ he asked her. It was the first time he had ever referred to her by her Rawn rank.
‘Yes,’ she nodded with an eager smile, ‘let’s.’
Havoc’s heart pounded in his chest. He was out of breath after the sprint over the entire length of the bridge, now he crossed onto the twelfth one at a walk as it slotted into place. The Gateway of Death shimmered with inbuilt light. The wall of grey cloud was right behind it, but reached no further than the line of the gateway as if an invisible barrier held it back. It stretched upwards for hundreds of feet like a vast vertical cliff face of churning grey terror.
Havoc sensed rather than felt the Isle of the Dead land in the vale beyond the curtain of cloud. Although, it still alighted with a deep resounding crunch through the ground that shook the bridge and made him stumble, nonetheless. As he approached the gateway, he saw faces swimming through the grey cloud, millions of them. The sound of battle behind him was momentarily drowned out by a multitude of screams coming from the formation of souls that swam inside the cloud. They writhed and undulated between themselves, gibbering and moaning in abject despair. This wall of mourning sent a chill down Havoc’s back, but the Blacksword felt elated. My kind of place, he said with glee.
The prince reached out to the opening of the gateway as he stood at the threshold, his finger could not penetrate the grey substance. It repelled his touch and chilled his fingers to the bone.
‘Seems the stories were right, no one can enter,’ he sighed.
No living man, remember, but where I may be a living being, I am also different, informed the Blacksword. Havoc nodded in agreement.
‘I think our lives have been leading up to this moment, but I don’t understand why.’
Neither do I, although I feel what we are about to do is important. There are answers for us both beyond this doorway.
‘Agreed, let’s do this then.’ He allowed the Blacksword to take over his body. Once his alter ego’s dominance was complete, the Blacksword stepped forward and pressed his long white fingers against the grey cloud of moaning souls. The fingers of his hand went straight through without resistance.
‘Well,’ he said with a grimace, ‘it’s now or never.’ He walked into the wall and it swallowed him up. The screaming souls of the Damned closed up in his wake.
Chapter Fourteen
The Hall of Whispers
T
he sounds of ruction, followed by loud shouts and applause echoed down the assembly hall. Inside the Parliament Room of the Citadel of Dulan-Tiss, it was warm, loud and humid from the sweat of humanity. From the podium, which sat in the centre of the room, King Kasan looked around at the sea of faces. They were the cream of the Vallkyte nobility, landowners and their vassals, Burgh Lords and Knights; they looked up at him expectantly, rapt, hanging on his every word, a fellow follower within the ranks of the Order of the Brethac Ziggurat.
‘...and furthermore,’ he continued in a loud voice that carried to the far corners of the room, ‘this parchment is a tissue of lies, made up by my scheming brother and his own parliament that follow him like lapdogs.’ There was laughter at this remark. The king held in his hand the War Crimes parchment, the rather varied list of accusations encompassing ten pages in all. He placed it in a wide oval bowl on a stand next to the podium.
‘Also, here is something else to ridicule,’ he said as Saltyn Ri handed him an even thicker parchment rolled up in a red bow. The king unravelled it and turned it to the assembled crowd so all could see the crest of Haplann clearly at the top of the page.
‘The oaths that I swore on this document mean nothing,’ he continued, ‘if my brother can break the truce between us by sending his son with a dragon, which he and his Ri have summoned, then so can I!’ The group of nobles burst into shouts of agreement waving parchments of their own above their heads.
Saltyn Ri groaned and shook his head. He knew that the dragon in question was the ever-elusive Ciriana and being one of the original dragons of the Dragor-rix era meant no one this side of two thousand five hundred years had summoned her. Kasan had fobbed off Saltyn Ri’s objections, putting it down to a mere technicality, the question of when she was summoned into existence paled with the fact that she was here in the first place, and siding with the Roguns. Clearly, the king felt the existence of Ciriana threatened the Brethac cause and he wanted the excuse to wield more authority, today he was going to get it.
‘If they have a dragon then so can we!’ he bellowed to the cheering crowd. ‘We will fight Wyrmfire with Wyrmfire and turn the odds in our favour!’ The crowd roared and the king let them have their rant, waiting for the right time to deliver the final moment of victory.
‘The Roguns have destroyed our faithful ally in the Wildlands and that shall not go unpunished,’ Kasan continued, ‘they have broken the truce set within this treaty!’ he roared as he pointed to the roll of parchment in the bowl. Saltyn sighed again. Technically, the Wildlands nobles were not even signatories of the treaty so the conquering of the Kelang by Mad-gellan would make no difference to the rules set down in the parchment articles. Yet, the Ri knew that politics was a fickle business.
In the high stalls above the crowd of cheering men, Queen Cinnibar and Lord Sernac watched from the shadows. When the king had the politicians lathered into a frenzy, Lord Sernac smiled.
‘He has a way with words that rival’s his brother, don’t you think, my master?’ asked Cinnibar.
‘Yes he has; even so, it has played out as I planned, as I had foreseen. Soon it will be time to break the laws of old and execute a new era. This island will belong to the Brethac and not even the Blacksword will be able to stop the coming storm this time,’ said Lord Sernac from the darkness of his red hood. He chuckled as he watched the king place the Treaty of Haplann in the bowl with the other parchment and set it alight with a wave of his hand.
The assembly roared their approval at the symbolism of the act.
It was war.
Carbaum was having a bad day. Not only did his leg pain him, but also he had met Death and survived, literally. Now he was in love, not with a woman, but a female nonetheless. He was in love with the Licessia. The moment he set foot on the sleek white yacht, he knew that he wanted it. It was a miracle of design; there was no planking or joins anywhere. It was as if someone had just carved the whole boat out of a tree trunk. The five sleeping compartments below deck were the height of luxury and she was fast in the air and very nimble, turning quickly with just a slight tilt to the steel-wheeled helm. The single Wind Orrinn slotted into the top of an odd shaped iron tower at the stern’s far end; the tower had a dull grey surface yet was beautifully etched in historic designs of sea voyages. The wind that blasted from the Orrinn not only put wind into the sail and held her aloft, but also pushed her along at incredible speed. As soon as he figured out how to use the Orrinn, they reached the battle within minutes.
His mood at flying such a fine vessel left him as soon as Commander Powyss ordered him to ground the ship and plough through the Vallkyte soldiers on the bridge. He could see the sense in his plan of course, but it still broke his heart.
He made the landing as carefully as
possible. To his delight, the damage to the Licessia was minimal. The same could not be said of the Vallkyte soldiers that got in the way.
Powyss and the Paladins exited the ship as soon as it halted. They formed ranks and attacked the Vallkytes that remained, although the enemy still outnumbered them, the yacht hammering into their front ranks had the effect of disorganising their unit’s usual disciplined defence. Powyss did not join his friends; he was busy sizing up Fowyn and Serena as they ran to aid their soldiers.
Excellent and deadly though he was with Bor-Teaven, he still struggled to defend against the combined skill of a Ri and the Havant. Little Kith, still on the deck of the yacht, helped the commander by firing his Golas with his one good arm, Carbaum loading it for him as best he could while hopping on his one good leg. The first four-foot long bolt launched at Serena failed to hit her as she quickly deflected it with her sword blade even though the impact jarred her arm and sent her onto her backside, which made Carbaum snigger.
Sweat trickled down Powyss’s brow as he focused on Fowyn Ri’s blade. He then heard a voice behind him that made him sigh with relief.
‘Thank you commander, we will take it from here,’ said Lord Ness. Fowyn looked up and saw his fellow Ri and Tia standing on the starboard railing of the Licessia. Lord Ness did not smile or greet him; in fact, his face was very grim.
‘Be my guest, master Ri,’ said Powyss, ‘now that I have softened them up for you.’ He ran off to help the Paladins, slipping into the middle of the shield wall that they had formed.
‘Ness, my old friend,’ said Fowyn with open arms. ‘It is good to see you are well.’
‘Gonliss said much the same thing,’ said Lord Ness, ‘patronising to the end, even after death, as it happens.’ He was pleased to see the smug smile fall from Lord Fowyn’s face.