The City of Night Neverending

by Steven Lochran

  ‘DIE!’ he screamed as he ran for them, the word a drawn-out battle cry.

  ‘Not today!’ Drake told him. ‘Not by your hand!’

  Dropping onto his back, he kicked up at the admiral’s gut at the same time that he slammed the grip of the Icefire spear against Ichor’s chest.

  ‘No!’ the old pyrate gasped as Drake rolled him up and over. With one quick motion, the admiral was sent sailing right over the edge of the step.

  ‘Darkness take m–’ was all he could scream before he was swallowed by the vortex, all his flesh and bone disintegrating at once. And then, as if the vortex disagreed with what it had just ingested, the island rumbled violently.

  Hero looked around in alarm. ‘Was that an earthquake?’

  ‘Either way we need to get out of here,’ Drake said, sliding the Icefire spear into the sling on his back as he joined Hero to reach over the side. ‘Edgar! Come on! It’s now or never.’

  Edgar nodded. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, taking one last deep breath before coiling against the rock face, then springing upward. Hand outstretched, he grabbed for the leather strap, just as the entire island began to roar.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  A PURE JOY

  JOSS had only struck the lock twice and already it was showing signs of buckling. One more blow and the cage was sure to open. He was just about to take that final swing when the ground started to lurch and heave beneath him. There was a sound of bones splintering as fissures ruptured open across the plaza, tearing apart the brickwork and sending hordes of pyrates scattering.

  ‘What in the –’ Joss was interrupted by a cry from within the cage.

  ‘Look out!’ Lilia shouted.

  Acting on instinct, Joss ducked. Sparks rained down on his head as a twisted red blade struck the bars of the cage. Without even looking, he knew exactly who was behind him.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re doing here,’ Joss said, turning to face his attacker. ‘But whatever your plan is, it ends now.’

  Thrall stared at Joss through that infernal stone mask of his, as enigmatic as ever. Again he swung his blade, and again Joss scrambled to escape its touch.

  ‘You are a small and lowly thing to aspire to be of any significance to my master or me, even with all the damage you’ve wrought today. Damage that you’ll pay for, I hope you know.’ His voice sounded different from the first time Joss had heard it. Darker. More powerful.

  ‘That mangy ginger pyrate is your master now?’ Joss asked, keeping his eyes locked on Thrall as he circled away from the cage. ‘You’re moving down in the world.’

  Thrall laughed. Or made a shrill, hacking noise. It was hard to distinguish. ‘That sewer-mouthed reprobate is no master of mine. He is merely a means to an end. I serve a greater power,’ he said, slicing the air in front of Joss’s face. ‘As will all the kingdom soon enough. Not that you’ll live to see that day.’

  ‘That day being when raptors fly and the moon dances with the earth below.’

  ‘Make jokes,’ Thrall said, taking another swipe at Joss, forcing him backward. ‘And we’ll see who’s laughing in the end.’

  The ground shook again, far more intensely. A nearby stone tower creaked, tilted, then all at once collapsed on the pyrates gathered at its feet. Joss was blinded as a rolling cloud of dust engulfed the campsite. Thrall, however, was unaffected by the debris, taking advantage of the distraction to slash at Joss with his blade.

  Joss raised the Champion’s Blade just in time to avoid having his head severed, though the strength of the blow still sent him reeling. Squinting through the grit in his eyes and panicked, he wondered how he could fend off this obviously superior swordsman, even as Thrall stalked forward to renew his attack.

  ‘I can already feel a chuckle coming on,’ the masked man said, failing to see the small clay pot sailing through the air above him. Joss watched the pot trail a stream of dust as it curved high over the campsite, before a sputtering crossbow bolt pierced it.

  WHOOM!

  The explosion hit with the intensity of an earthquake. It ripped open the tattered lock on the cage, blew in the bars, rained fire on yet another wave of pyrates and sent them screaming from the plaza. Joss, already unbalanced from Thrall’s attack, found himself lying on his back and wondering how he got there. Head swimming and vision blurred, he looked up to see a shadowy form hovering before him.

  It was Thrall, pierced through with a chunk of splintered wood, his torso covered in a thick, dark substance that seemed like it should be blood, but wasn’t. His head was rolling around on his shoulders as if it were about to drop off and, as he stood weak and unsteady before Joss, he uttered only one word.

  ‘Mesmerising …’

  ‘What did you say?’ Joss asked through the ringing in his ears, just as another explosion sounded nearby. When he turned back to Thrall the masked man was gone, as if he’d only ever been a trick of the mind. In his place, a second figure came running through the haze, clothed in Daheedi colours. By the time Joss had found his feet again, the changeling was by his side with crossbow in hand.

  ‘Are you injured?’ he asked.

  ‘Where’s Thrall?’ said Joss, searching around the immediate area and finding it empty.

  ‘The man in the cloak? I lost sight of him through the explosion. He must have fled, though his wounds would keep him from getting far.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ Joss said, as a cry for help came from the cage, reminding him of the more immediate matter at hand. The hostages were trying to wrestle open the twisted metalwork of the barred door, which was hanging from its hinges but still blocking any escape.

  ‘It’s too heavy!’ Lilia exclaimed as Joss approached.

  ‘We may have more luck together,’ the changeling suggested, surprising Joss again with his eagerness to help. He watched, stunned, as the creature with his father’s face rushed forward to lend a hand, before snapping out of his stupefied state to do the same. They had moved the door less than an inch before he heard yet another familiar voice calling out.

  ‘Wait for us!’

  He had never been so relieved to see the faces of his fellow prentices as when they came running across the wreckage of the plaza. But as happy as he was to see Drake and Hero, it was with pure elation that he spotted Edgar following two steps behind them.

  ‘What? How? Edgar! You’re alive!’ Joss grabbed the boy for a rough hug which was heartily returned.

  ‘Thanks to sir and ma’am here,’ Edgar said, beaming. ‘You should have seen it! They saved me from the vortex and threw Ichor into it like they were making a trade with the Sleeping King himself.’

  ‘You really need to stop calling me ma’am,’ Hero said.

  Drake nudged her with his elbow and offered her a sly grin. ‘Would you prefer he call you “the Rex”?’

  ‘The Rex?’ asked Joss, and Drake nodded at Edgar. The boy was turning the brightest shade of red that Joss had ever seen.

  ‘Your young friend here has a very high opinion of you. Which shouldn’t be too surprising, given that this whole rescue effort was your idea.’

  ‘Is that true?’ Edgar asked, and before Joss could respond the boy’s arms were clamped around him. The most he could utter was a breathless squeak, followed by a deep inhalation as Edgar finally let him go again.

  ‘Don’t get too excited,’ he said, reaching into his coat pocket. ‘I knew you’d be wanting your glove back, is all.’

  He handed the mud-stained, green leather glove back to his friend, and as big as Edgar’s eyes had been before they were even wider now.

  The changeling that wore his father’s face shuffled into view, and Joss watched as Drake and Hero took stock of him.

  ‘You said Ichor was thrown into the vortex?’ he asked with concern.

  Drake’s expression shifted into one of defiance. ‘It was him or us,’ he said to the changeling, clearly wondering who he was and why he was expected to answer to him. ‘And I can’t bring myself to feel bad abo
ut it.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m saying,’ the changeling replied. ‘Ichor made himself one of the spellcasters responsible for the ritual’s completion by playing such a prominent role. In being thrown in himself, the spell has now been disrupted. The vortex is becoming unstable and all the island with it. It won’t be long before the entire city is destroyed – permanently this time!’

  ‘Then we have to get these people out of here – now,’ Joss said, addressing the silver-haired woman who’d called out to him. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘We’re not as strong as we could be, but we can do this,’ she answered.

  ‘I know you can, Lilia,’ Drake told her, his words giving her cause to smile, as everyone trapped in the cage gathered again around the door. Joss and the others did the same on their end, each of them grabbing the frame with both hands.

  ‘All together now!’ the changeling called out, and as one they hauled the door from the cage. It shrieked as it scraped against the bars, proving as heavy as a giant’s hammer, but then finally it gave. With a satisfying clang, it dropped to the shell-paved street. The hostages wasted no time in pushing their way out, looking to Joss and the others for guidance, all of them talking in a rush as they asked what to do, where to go, how to get out.

  ‘Everyone, listen!’ Joss called out over the noise. ‘We don’t have much time!’ As quickly as he could, he described the subterranean harbour and the path to find it, as well as the man who would be waiting there for them.

  ‘His name is Salt and he can guide you onto the submersibles that we’ll use to escape – if the pyrates haven’t already made off with them. We may encounter some resistance on the way, but we can fend off any attacks if we band together. Understood? Then let’s go.’

  As if they were back in Thunder Realm mustering livestock, the prentices herded the hostages from the plaza. Keeping their weapons drawn, they marched together in a line, making sure that the weaker members of the group who stumbled among the debris weren’t lost along the way. Drake kept the tip of the Icefire spear held low as he approached Joss.

  ‘It occurs to me,’ he said. ‘In all the commotion, I didn’t get your friend’s name.’

  Joss looked over at the man by his side, who looked back at him uncertainly.

  ‘He’s not a friend,’ Joss said.

  Drake’s confusion only doubled as the stranger, crestfallen, slowed his pace. Joss lent him a comforting hand, bringing him back in step.

  ‘He’s Naveer Sarif … My father. Or “paap”, as I used to call him.’

  Naveer blinked. Slowly, a look came over his face that Joss had only briefly glimpsed before. It started in his eyes, which widened and sparkled as they drank in the light, before it travelled down his face like honey pouring from a hive, turning his reserved smile into a radiant grin. It was the purest expression of joy that Joss had ever seen.

  For his part, Drake looked utterly baffled. But he proved as courteous and tactful as ever, offering his hand to Naveer in a hearty shake.

  ‘An honour to meet you, sir. Especially given the circumstances.’

  ‘It’s always a pleasure meeting one of Joss’s friends,’ Naveer replied. ‘And it’s reassuring to know that he’s surrounded by such stalwart companions.’

  Drake lowered his head bashfully. ‘I don’t know about “stalwart”. But I do know that someone of Joss’s character demands a certain standard in the company he keeps.’

  Now it was Joss’s turn for modesty, though he couldn’t resist adding a little bite to it. ‘That’s either one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said about me, or one of the worst.’

  Drake, Joss and his father shared a laugh, the moment feeling so real that Joss had trouble reminding himself of the situation they faced. They could have just as easily been gathered around a campfire or at a kitchen table. It was as if the quiet family life for which he’d always envied others was now within his reach.

  It gave him much to consider as they marched on through the fiery night, weapons at the ready, vigilant for whatever lurking threats the shadows may yet unleash.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  A FINAL MEMORY

  EXPLOSIONS sounded in the distance, triggered by the flames that were tearing through the city. But for all that mayhem, the road to the underground harbour was relatively quiet. Only a few scattered bands of pyrates offered any resistance, with the ragtag battalion that Joss and his brethren had made of the escaped hostages quick to fend off their attacks. They used pitchforks and pickaxes for weapons, upgrading their armoury with every victory. Joss couldn’t believe their luck. At this rate, they’d be loading into the submersibles and sailing to freedom within moments.

  Or they would have been, if not for the Tower Memoria.

  A massive band of pyrates had fortified the site, firing at anyone who stepped out from behind the cover of the surrounding buildings. The first sign of trouble came when one of the hostages charged ahead, only to take an arrow to the knee. Under a hail of crossbow bolts, they dragged the fallen man back behind the corner of a crumbled building, where Lilia set to treating him.

  ‘Muck!’ Joss cursed, stealing a glance at the tower from behind the cover of a stone wall. Even from this distance the pyrates could be heard hurling threats, insults and slurs. ‘We’re never going to make it to the harbour if we can’t find a way to get past those pyrates or flush them out of there.’

  ‘Impossible,’ Hero said as she surveyed the tower through her binoculars. ‘They have too strong a position. And they’re fanatical enough to hold it right to the end.’

  ‘Is there another path we can take?’ Edgar asked, and everyone looked to Naveer.

  He shook his head. ‘This is the only way.’

  Another earthquake ripped through the island, fracturing the ground. Everyone leapt out of the way as a fissure split open beneath their feet and the brimstone stench of sulphuric steam spewed into the air.

  Joss slumped against the stone wall. They had come so far, prevailed against overwhelming odds, and now here they were at the end of the road. Trapped. He tried to think of a solution, some kind of strategy, but his mind was a blank, save for the sense that someone was watching him. He looked over to see Naveer staring at him with deep concern.

  ‘I can keep them distracted while you continue on,’ he said, stepping forward. ‘Then I can double back towards the centre of the city and make sure the last of the protective sigils are destroyed. It’s the only way of ensuring that the vortex will close once the island has been consumed.’

  Joss frowned, hoping that he was misunderstanding the plan in some way. ‘But … that means you’ll be taken with it.’

  Naveer said nothing, his look of concern shifting into something else. Perhaps sensing the conversation that was to come, Drake turned to the others. ‘Let’s give them a moment …’ he said, ushering everyone over to where Lilia had finished treating her patient’s wound and was now wrapping it in fabric that she’d ripped from her own tunic. Edgar offered Joss a look of commiseration before going to join them.

  ‘Joss, I –’ Naveer began, but Joss didn’t want platitudes. He wanted answers.

  ‘You’re going to sacrifice yourself?’ he asked, relieved that everyone was out of earshot so that they couldn’t hear his voice cracking.

  ‘It’s the only chance you’ll have to escape,’ Naveer said, adding uncertainly, ‘You didn’t think I’d be able to return to the surface, did you? I imagined that would be the last thing you’d want.’

  ‘Yes. No. I don’t know. I’m not sure what I thought …’

  Naveer fixed Joss with a resolved gaze. ‘Joss – I’m not mortal. There’s no way of knowing just how long I can retain this form and the memories that come with it. Changelings aren’t known for their sentiment. As much as it pains me to admit it … you were right to be wary of me.’

  ‘But you saved my life! You know things that it should be impossible for you to know …’ replied Joss, trying somehow to bargain hi
s way out of the problem, even as he knew it was hopeless. ‘Maybe the hold that this spell has on you is permanent. Maybe if you came back with me, you could –’

  But Naveer wouldn’t budge. ‘It’s not the spell that’s proven so strong, Joss. It’s simpler than that.’ The changeling reached out, held his son’s face one last time. ‘It’s a parent’s love.’

  Tears were running down Joss’s cheeks, pooling at Naveer’s fingers. Retreating from his grief, he took hold of the brass cylinder that he’d stuffed into his belt earlier. ‘I still have your shadowscope,’ he said, shaking as he offered it to his father.

  ‘You should keep it. You’ll get far more use out of it than I would. Speaking of which –’ Naveer slipped a hand into the satchel at his side. ‘I took this before I left the library. I wanted to give it to you when the time was right. And if that’s not now, I don’t know when it ever will be.’

  He pulled loose a familiar necklace, the silver thunderbolt catching the light. Joss stared at it in awe.

  ‘That’s not –’

  ‘It is. And you know I speak the truth when I say that he’d have wanted nothing more than for you to have it.’

  Naveer handed Joss the necklace. The pendant was heavy. Solid.

  ‘Your mother and your father will always be with you. You’ll keep them alive in your heart,’ Naveer said. ‘But you shouldn’t let them rule it. Let the past be past. Live for today. Look to tomorrow. And remember: you can take hope from tragedy –’

  ‘And build something new from the old,’ said Joss, finishing the words that had comforted him through his darkest days.

  Naveer looked at him with wonder. ‘You remember that?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ The tears were a flood now. Joss used his sleeve to wipe them away. Then, acting on impulse, he threw his arms around Naveer, hugging him tightly, only to be hugged back just as fiercely.

  Then Naveer turned back to Drake and the others. Lilia had helped the wounded man to his feet, and he was now being guarded by a pair of armed companions.