The City of Night Neverending

by Steven Lochran

  ‘We have to do something!’ Joss said, jumping back up into Azof’s saddle. And that’s when he heard someone screaming his name.

  ‘Josiah!’

  It was Edgar, his voice faint at the other end of the avenue. Two pyrates had him by the arms and were dragging him away, towards the pier. ‘Help!’

  Joss’s eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open. ‘Edgar!’ he cried out as Azof reared beneath him. ‘Hold on!’

  Spurring his mount onward, Joss raced down the street. Firefighters and townsfolk alike blocked his path but Azof proved as agile as ever, dodging every hurdle thrown at him. Until they came to the stampede of animals charging up the road. Azof screeched at the beasts, but they wouldn’t be deterred. They kept surging forward, gripped entirely by their hysteria.

  ‘Joss!’ Edgar called out again. The pyrates had a better hold of him, carrying him off like a baby brachiosaur to the butcher while he wriggled and kicked as hard as he could. It did him no good. They were loading him onto the submersible now, its hatch wide open and waiting.

  ‘Edgar!’ Joss shouted, his voice swallowed by all the surrounding discord. ‘EDGAR!’

  Azof bucked beneath him and was forced to retreat. Joss lost sight of the harbour. Only when the street had cleared of the animals could he look again, searching for his friend. But there was no sign of the pyrates, or the submersible, or Edgar.

  He was gone. And it was all Joss’s fault.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A MAN ON THE EDGE OF A CLIFF

  ‘EVERYONE, please! Remain calm!’ the chief warden shouted over the demands of the crowd gathered before him. ‘We’ll answer all the questions we can, but we can only answer them one at a time!’

  The early morning sun was masked by plumes of black smoke, with dozens of charred buildings still smouldering all these hours after the pyrates’ attack. Only a few figures stood among the blackened wreckage, salvaging or clearing away what they could. Everyone else was at the steps of the serpentrain station. With the town square in ruins, this was the only place large enough to accommodate everyone who had gathered to demand answers of their officials.

  Watching the chief warden from the outer edge of the crowd, Joss ran a hand across his soot-stained face and rubbed at his bloodshot eyes. He was exhausted, but there had been far too much happening for him to sleep. In the immediate wake of Edgar’s abduction, he and the others had run for the docks to find a boat and give chase. But the pyrates had set torch to almost all the vessels moored there. Of the few that remained, none were swift enough to catch up to the escaping submersibles.

  All Joss wanted to do was pursue them, to rescue Edgar and the rest of the townsfolk, but instead he and Drake and Hero had dedicated themselves to doing what good they could in the meantime, putting out fires and pulling people from the wreckage of their homes and reuniting lost children with their families, all the while waiting for some official word as to how those who’d been taken were to be returned. But now, as he stared into the face of the chief warden, the lord mayor and all the other officials, the suspicion that he’d been clinging to a false hope crept over him.

  ‘I assure you,’ the chief warden began, eyes darting across the crowd, ‘we’re doing everything we can to –’

  ‘They took my boy!’ someone cried out, urging the crowd into another frenzy.

  ‘Where did they take everybody?’

  ‘They burned down my house! Who’s going to pay for that?’

  ‘Are they coming back? Are they going to attack again?’

  The chief warden stood for the longest time, like a man at the edge of a cliff. Then he drew a deep breath and bellowed, ‘Listen to me!’ This time, the crowd fell absolutely silent. ‘Thank you. Now, we have little information at hand, but I can tell you that we’re not the only town to have been raided. Reports have been coming in from Paleshore and Selkie’s Rest of similar attacks, all in the last few days, all of them ending in abductions. We’re doing what we can to organise a united rescue party, but we’re still awaiting word from the capital …’

  A murmur rippled through the crowd, giving voice to Joss’s own sense of shock. So many people taken, for what nefarious purpose nobody could say, and the authorities were content to just sit on their hands? Surely the situation was far too urgent to delay. Too much time had already been wasted.

  The chief warden continued: ‘In the meantime, we’re recommending that all vessels remain at port. This includes the Byfrost barge, which has been redirected back to Stormport and will remain there until we can be sure that it won’t be at risk of attack. I understand this may affect those whose accommodation was only booked through to the barge’s arrival. We’re currently setting up cots in the warden’s barracks for anyone left without a roof for the night …’

  ‘I’ve heard enough.’ Joss turned away from the gathering to stalk his way back up the street.

  ‘Joss! Where are you going?’ Drake called out.

  Joss didn’t stop to answer. The problem was that he had no idea where he was going, or what to do. He just knew he couldn’t stand around listening any more. ‘I’m going to get Azof,’ he decided out loud. If there was one thing he could rely on when everything else was falling apart, it was his raptor. ‘And then I’m going to ride for as long as it takes to find a boat that will take me wherever those cowardly cussing pyrates have fled.’

  ‘You’re not thinking straight,’ Hero told him, hot on his heels with Drake not far behind. ‘We have no way of knowing when the barge is going to show up for us, and if we’re not on it we can kiss the rest of our training goodbye.’

  ‘You honestly think I care about training now?’

  ‘Maybe not. But consider this. There’s a lot of ocean out there. A lot of places to hide. Even if you could find a ship willing to sail, even if you walked away from your training just as it’s about to truly begin, you’d still have no idea where to even start looking for the pyrates. This isn’t the Tournament, Joss. There’s no regent here to keep your saddle fastened and your hand in the game. And just because we completed the Way, we’re no more invincible for it. You’d be forfeiting your future – and maybe even your life – on a fool’s errand.’

  The longer Hero talked, the more Joss slowed his pace. She was right, he knew. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. Frustrated, he spun to face her, lost his balance, took a faltering step. The ground beneath his boot squelched, and he looked down to see that his foot had landed in a thick puddle of mud. And in the middle of it, half-buried, he saw a flash of green. He picked it up.

  A fur-lined, green leather glove.

  ‘You’re right,’ Joss said to Hero. ‘This isn’t the Tournament. Or the Way. All those people will die – Edgar will die – if somebody doesn’t do something.’ He shook the glove in her face. ‘So, if you’re telling me the choice is between searching for my friend and reporting for duty like a proper little prentice, then that doesn’t sound like any choice at all.’

  Hero had no answer for that. Though Drake did. ‘Maybe we can do both,’ he said.

  Both Joss and Hero looked at him, his narrow face perfectly earnest.

  ‘I know a tracker. Name of Salt. He lives just outside of Starlight Fields and he could find a snow leopard in a blizzard at midnight,’ he explained. ‘If we can get to the Northern Tundra ahead of the barge, then Hero and I can report for duty while you go with Salt to rescue Edgar.’

  Hero jerked with shock. ‘Are you suggesting we leave Joss to be expelled?’

  Even with all that was going on, Joss found himself as surprised by the intensity of her reaction as he was touched. Given how much of herself she hid from the world, the occasions when she let down her guard were so much more significant. Not that Drake was any less concerned.

  ‘Of course not!’ he said, sounding offended. ‘We can say he was injured in the raid. That he’s recuperating in Crescent Cove. That he’s tending to Edgar’s family. Or any other excuse we can think of during the voyage. With luck
they’ll believe us, and it’ll give Joss time to at least try tracking down Edgar and the other hostages.’

  Both Hero and Joss stood silent, mulling over Drake’s proposition. Joss had to admit it sounded like it could work. And Hero’s scowl had softened, though she still couldn’t resist pointing out their first obstacle.

  ‘So all we have to do is find a ship that’s sailing when nobody in their right mind would even attempt it.’

  ‘Not easy, I know. But the harbourmaster might be able to point us in the direction of a madman or two,’ Drake suggested, then turned his attention to Joss.

  Looking again at the mud-stained glove, Joss curled his hand into a fist. ‘Then let’s start there,’ he said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A SLUMBERING BEAST

  THE harbourmaster looked over his desk at the three young prentices as if they’d just burst into his office asking to be booked on a pleasure cruise straight into the gaping maw of a ravenous kraken. Which, for all intents and purposes, was exactly what they’d done.

  ‘You’ll be wanting yer heads examined,’ he huffed, then turned back to the stack of insurance claims he was signing, handing them one sheet at a time to the meek deputy standing beside him.

  ‘Maybe after we’re back from our voyage,’ Hero replied. ‘If you know anyone who’s sailing, that is.’

  The harbourmaster sucked his teeth as he considered her question. ‘I hear the Behemoth is preparing to set off in the next day or so,’ he said. ‘Not surprising. The captain’s as mad as a saltwater drunk. No doubt you’ll have a lot in common.’

  ‘What’s his name?’ asked Joss.

  The harbourmaster’s deputy snickered, stopping at a look from his boss. The deputy shuffled his stack of papers and went back to his business.

  ‘Gyver. Captain Joan Gyver,’ the harbourmaster said. ‘And you’d best be remembering the “captain” part, if’n you want to stay on her good side. You’ll find her at the dock. Now, if that’s all, I already had more than enough work to do before that mob of marauders swept into town. Not that you’ll find Regent Greel doing anything about it, or even so much as shifting his fat ar–’

  ‘Thank you,’ Drake said, grabbing the harbourmaster’s ink-stained hand and giving it a firm shake. ‘But we should probably get going if we’re to catch the captain in time.’

  The prentices found the Behemoth moored at the very end of the pier. It lolled in the water like a slumbering beast, as big and nasty as its name would suggest, built of curving black iron with blood red runes inscribed on its hull, a spine of masts and smokestacks running the length of it.

  All the other ships surrounding it lay empty and quiet. Not the Behemoth. Its crew was busy readying the steamship for its voyage, while dockworkers loaded in supplies up the gangplanks. In among all the activity, a lone figure stood high upon the ship’s upper deck. Her coppery hair was slicked back and braided in a tail that fell between her shoulderblades, brushing the oilskin coat that she wore over a ruffled red blouse.

  ‘Bernard! Alonso!’ she shouted at two of the crew who were idling beside a stack of crates. ‘Quit your blathering and get back to work! I have no need for jesters or washerwomen on my boat, and don’t either of you forget it!’

  ‘Is that her?’ Joss asked. ‘Captain Gyver?’

  ‘Who else would it be?’ Hero groused beside him. Even with everything that was happening, it was comforting to know that she hadn’t lost her sense of good humour.

  ‘Well met there, captain!’ Drake called out, waving his hand to capture the woman’s attention. ‘May we speak with you for a moment?’

  The captain said nothing, but turned her steely gaze to the three prentices huddled together beside her ship. The intensity of her stare was keen, as piercing as the point of an arrowhead. But then a smile found her face.

  ‘And what business would I have with a couple of lizardfolk and their mammoth-herding companion, dare I ask?’ she said, her grin shrouding the sharpness of her words.

  ‘We’re seeking passage to the Northern Tundra,’ Drake explained. The surrounding sailors shared a range of dubious glances. ‘We were told you might be able to help us.’

  ‘Ha!’ Captain Gyver said. ‘I’m sorry, friend, but this isn’t a charter cruise.’

  ‘We’re not looking for charity. We’d pay our way,’ Hero told her.

  ‘Even so. I’m a merchant captain, not a tour guide.’

  ‘What about a kind soul in a time of need, then?’ Joss asked. ‘Our friend was taken, along with half the town. We’re going to the Northern Tundra to find them and bring them home.’

  Gyver only snorted. ‘You’d be best off leaving the heroics to the proper authorities, boy. Those noble intentions of yours are likely to get you all killed. Or worse. And the last thing I need on my ship is a gang of unsalted, unblooded laggards suffering from delusions of grandeur.’

  A voice rang out from further up the dock. ‘Joan Millicent Gyver! I never knew you to be such a blackheart!’

  Joss and the others turned to see a woman walking towards them. She was wearing the same oilskin as Gyver, her head shaved so close that it made her skin shine. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses framed eyes of burnt amber, and her complexion was the darkest shade that Joss had ever seen – darker even than his own. It marked her as hailing from distant Mraba, far beyond the western shores of Ai.

  ‘Qorza! Button that lip lest I sew it shut for you!’ the captain shouted, though the lightness of her tone betrayed her.

  The woman, Qorza, merely grinned. ‘Yes, captain,’ she said, offering a mock salute.

  Captain Gyver went on, ‘I expected you back hours ago! The ship’s not going to sanctify itself, y’know.’

  ‘You can thank the township of Crescent Cove for that. Everything’s shut up tighter than a clamshell after the raid. I had to bang on the apothecary’s door near on half an hour before he’d serve me.’ Qorza hefted the bulging satchel she was carrying up into the air. ‘And ships don’t get sanctified without proper supplies.’

  ‘Never mind all that.’ Gyver raised her hand in a dismissive wave. ‘Just get to work already, will you? I won’t be setting off late on account of your procrastination.’

  But Qorza ignored the captain’s orders in favour of staring at Joss, Hero and Drake, scrutinising them from behind her lenses.

  ‘Who are our friends here?’ she asked.

  ‘Just a bunch of wayward timewasters,’ the captain said.

  A wave of anger rushed through Joss. ‘Clearly we’re not going to find any help here. We’ll have to make our own way to the Northern Tundra,’ he said to Drake and Hero, before shooting one last scornful look at Captain Gyver. ‘I’m sure we can find someone with a heart beating inside them. Let’s go.’

  He was a little way down the pier when he heard Qorza call out to him. ‘Tell me, boy – did you perchance have any kin from Daheed?’

  Joss stopped. It wasn’t unusual for people to ask him about Daheed, but there was something in the tone of her voice …

  ‘My father and mother. But they died in the Destruction,’ he said, facing her. ‘Why?’

  Qorza walked towards him, studying him so closely he took a small step backward. ‘I don’t mean to be presumptuous,’ she said. ‘But you have the most familiar look about you. Your family name. It’s not Sarif, is it?’

  Joss blinked. ‘How did you know that?’

  A single, barking laugh erupted from Qorza’s mouth. She grinned up at the captain. ‘Joanie! Can you believe it – this is Naveer’s boy!’

  ‘Naveer Sarif?’ the captain asked, clearly taken aback. ‘Your old mentor?’

  ‘The very same!’ Qorza beamed, looking Joss over as Captain Gyver took hold of a mooring rope that stretched up onto the deck and used it to zip down onto the pier. Striding to Qorza’s side, she stared at Joss with the same intensity as her shipmate did.

  ‘Do you know this Naveer?’ Hero whispered to Joss.

  Before he had the chance to sha
ke his head, Qorza was answering on his behalf. ‘I’d safely say he would know his own father, though the memory may be dim. You were quite young when tragedy came to the Gleaming Isle. Weren’t you, Josiah?’

  ‘You know my name?’ Joss asked, stunned.

  ‘Of course,’ replied Qorza. ‘After all, I was there on the day it was bestowed upon you, a guest among all your family, along with the fishing boat captain after whom you were named. The ceremony was held upon Daheed’s First Step, on the Thousand Sacred Stairs that led into the Silver Sea. I still remember how tightly your parents held you as they soaked your head in the foaming water. When it was all done we withdrew to Consular Plaza – they’d set up a marquee there. We ate and drank and laughed in celebration of you and your family’s happiness. It’s that shining memory I keep of them all these years later, long after they were lost to us all.’

  Joss didn’t know what to say. Ten years since their passing and all he remembered of his parents were fragments, precious and few. Now, here stood a stranger who spoke of them with fond familiarity. Joss would never have dared dream that such a thing was possible.

  ‘Josiah, you don’t know me,’ Qorza said, her tone growing serious. ‘If you did, you’d know that even with all the games that she and I might play, I would never seek to undermine my captain. But in light of the ties you and I share, and of the tremendous work of fate that brought us together here and now, I am confident she might show some of the compassion of which you spoke and reconsider having you travel with us.’

  Qorza fixed Captain Gyver with a bewitching smile. The captain chewed the inside of her cheek, gave a tetchy grunt, then finally relented. ‘We leave tomorrow at dawn,’ she sighed, before stomping over to the ship’s gangplank. ‘Be here in time and there’ll be a place for you. And don’t make me regret it.’