'I told you to arrest them, not stop them. Get those bastard oars moving.'
He sniffed the air and straightened, eyes back to the north-west. Something was changing. He could feel it in the air and smell it on the wind. It was a faint odour but fetid somehow. It was the wall across the harbour. It hadn't smelled wrong before but it did now. And he hadn't spent his life at sea to ignore his instincts this time.
It wobbled at its upper edge, spilling water in great swathes. Below them, the sea was being dragged towards it faster than any incoming tide. That was enough.
'Ocenii. Get out of there. Get off this ship now! Move.'
One last glance and he sprinted to the aft quarter and the ladders. Ocetarus was about to wreak his vengeance on the Tsardon.
Chapter 80
848th cycle of God, 19th day of Dusasrise 15th year of the true Ascendancy
Jhered and Kovan stood over them. Ossacer was talking to them and Mirron was crying. He made an embracing movement with his hands and the others nodded. Above them, the barrier was beginning to falter. The skipper had made another audacious move and, once again, had found a little open water. But it was all he could do. Ships closed in from every quarter. Two were heading straight at them and he couldn't dodge them both.
'We aren't going to survive this, are we?' said Kovan.
Jhered shook his head. 'But we die knowing we helped save the Conquord for those we loved.'
'Or died with them,' said Kovan. His face was white and scared.
Jhered nodded. 'And that's a comforting thought.'
'I should have killed him. Gorian.'
'Don't regret your decision. It was what they wanted. He's dead somewhere anyway.'
'I don't share your confidence.' Kovan nodded at the Ascendants. 'They'd know if he was. They'd feel something. And now he'll be the only one left.'
Jhered looked forward. Men lined the rails carrying bows or spears and shields. How small a number they looked.
'Your Ascendants had better be quick,' said the skipper. 'We have to give them the time they need,' said Jhered. 'Understood. Guard your port flank.'
Jhered nodded. He hefted his gladius and set his shield on his arm. Below, the beat of the drum sounded over the splash of oars and the rumble of the unstable wall of water to his right. Ahead, the Tsardon triremes closed. They would both strike the port bow. Jhered set
himself against the imminent impacts and took one last glance at the Ascendants. Ossacer was still talking. He stroked Mirron's head and had his other hand on Arducius's shoulder.
'Goodbye,' he whispered. 'May the Omniscient welcome you to his embrace.'
The noise gained in intensity. Every sound was amplified. The shouts of the Tsardon. The answering taunts of the crew. The straining of oarsmen and the beating of time. And something else, a shuddering that he could feel beneath his feet as well as in his head. The ship shifted sideways slightly.
'Kovan.'
'Yes, Exchequer.'
'Your father will be proud of you. You are a hero of the Conquord.' 'And you.'
'No, boy. They pay me to be here. You do it for love.' 'Brace!' roared the skipper.
Conquord and Tsardon ship collided in a splintering and groaning of timber. The sick sound of destruction. Men stumbled and steadied. Arrows and spears flew. Bodies slumped to the deck. Grapples crossed the divide. Moments later, the second vessel struck. Tsardon soldiers poured on to the ship. Weapons clashed.
'Stand firm,' said Jhered. 'Keep your shield up. Here they come.'
Arducius felt the energy flowing into him from Ossacer. His words had been like sunlight through cloud. What he asked should have scared him but the thought of his death was tempered by the knowledge that he would achieve his destiny.
The lumbering power of the ocean flowed through him and around him. He strained every muscle to maintain the cohesion of the wall. With every heartbeat, his control slipped a little more. It was as if the water had a will of its own that was set against him. He had not realised how quickly it would drain him. When Ossacer had touched him, he was on the point of losing the circuit he had formed with the ocean.
Now, he had fresh direction and a fresh reservoir of energy. The map of the water wall was serene, almost unmoving. Deep blues flowed across its surface. Using Ossacer and Mirron to amplify his actions, Arducius reached out to it. As the energies rolled through him, he focused them, dragged them close together and twined them around each other again and again.
In his mind, the new energy map formed and he imposed it on the mass of the ocean that towered above him. The image was that of a tornado, narrow at its base, wide at its head and turning faster and faster. Applied to water it created a vortex, a sucking power that would drag everything within its compass down to its deep, dark heart.
The energy lines flared with the power he fed them from Ossacer and Mirron, no longer blue but a resonant, pulsing orange shot with white, raw and violent. He fought to contain what he created.
'Place it,' said Ossacer. 'Place it before you lose it.'
'I can't,' gasped Arducius. ‘I have to anchor it or it'll disperse too quickly.'
'Make it as tight as you can. Then we'll go.'
Jhered blocked a thrust to his midriff and cracked his gladius into a Tsardon helmet. He staggered back, dazed. The deck was covered in skirmishes. Oarsmen had rushed up fore and aft to join the fighting. The three ships drifted ever nearer the water wall which had begun to ripple alarmingly along its length.
Next to Jhered, Kovan fought well. His fear had gone and his training had taken over. He blocked and parried like a veteran, with Jhered offering him encouragement and a rock-solid flank on which the enemy broke.
The dazed man came back at Jhered. He raised his sword. Jhered blocked it aside and finished him, jamming his gladius up under the rib cage. The man collapsed to the deck. Two more were coming at him. Kovan was engaged with a third. At their backs, the Ascendants still worked on, unmoving.
Jhered brought his shield in front of him. The first enemy ran at him, the second hanging back. Light leather armour covered their torsos, small round shields were worn on their forearms. Leather skull caps kept the hair and sweat from their eyes and their faces were covered in lurid colours, like living masks.
Jhered let him strike, fielding the blow on his shield. He jabbed straight out. The strike glanced off a buckle. He drew back inside his defence. The Tsardon stepped up. A mistake. Jhered rammed his shield full into the man's body and as he began to fall backwards, came around with his sword and felt it bite deep into flesh.
Straightening, Jhered saw the second man take a pace. He was hefting a spear. He cocked his arm but didn't make the throw. An arrow pierced his neck. Jhered glanced behind him and nodded his thanks at the skipper who had left the tiller and was reloading his bow.
'I'm doing no good th—'
He gasped and dropped to his knees, a Tsardon arrow shaft jutting from his neck. Jhered turned round. Another trireme was bearing down on them fast, ramming spike glinting in the sun.
'Kovan, your left. Defend your left!'
The Ascendants were standing. It was poor timing. They hadn't seen the threat aimed directly at them. Jhered started to move but knew he wasn't going to make it in time. They were between him and the port rail. Twenty yards away, Tsardon primed bows. Others held javelins.
Kovan split the skull of his enemy and swung left. Jhered saw him tense. Ossacer and Arducius were moving towards the stern rail. Water was coiling around them, covering them in a liquid sheath, obscuring them from view. A wind was building fast. The ship dragged more quickly towards the wall which had begun to split as if some great blade was slashing at it. Mirron was moving towards Jhered.
'No!' yelled Jhered into the rising tumult. 'Mirron, get down.'
A javelin flew straight and fast. Jhered leapt at Mirron, knowing it was futile. A shape crossed his vision. He heard a dreadful thud. Jhered caught Mirron and hauled her down to the deck. Kovan crashed down r
ight next to them. All three of them stared at the javelin buried in his chest.
Mirron screamed. Kovan reached out a hand and pressed it against her. Blood was pouring from his wound and trickling from his mouth.
'Don't cry, Mirron. It doesn't hurt.' He smiled and his eyes fluttered and closed.
Jhered blinked away a tear and saw Arducius and Ossacer jump from the ship.
Freezing cold water closed over their heads. Arducius swam with Ossacer holding on to his waist. The weight of the water bore them down so quickly he hardly needed to kick his feet. In his tiring mind, he clung on to the base of the energy map he had created. It hammered at him, trying to shake him off. It was an unnatural shape, even more so than the wall he had made.
But he would not let go. Back on the surface, Jhered and Kovan had fought and would die to give him the time to succeed. And on the shore the Echelon and Marshal Vasselis were waiting for an invasion. He would not let that invasion happen. He would not let them down.
So down he went, Ossacer with him, keeping the energy flowing through him and the circuit complete. Already, the surface of the ocean would be chaos. And the deeper he went, the further that chaos would spread. The only thing Arducius regretted was that he would never see what he had created.
The wall of water had fallen with such suddenness it took the breath away. Air rushed into the void it had left and for a heartbeat there was no sign, no ripple, to signify it had ever been there. The fighting stopped in the same instant, every eye taken by the appearance of Estorr from behind its shroud.
A beat of silence was punctuated only by the distant sound of drums on Tsardon triremes. And then the ocean began to pour in on itself.
'Omniscient bless him,' said Jhered, scrabbling to his feet. 'He's done it.'
Astern of the Mark's Arrow, an eddy had become a spiral and the spiral had accelerated, becoming a drain, sucking down the sea and everything that sat upon it. It expanded at an extraordinary rate. Its outer edge plucked at the ship and dragged it backwards and around. Behind him, men had started to scream but he ignored them, staring down into the maw of this monster, hypnotised by the swirling that gathered in pace moment by moment.
Jhered looked down. Mirron was lying across Kovan's stomach, crying and stroking his hair. He bent down and picked her up.
'Leave him now, Mirron. He's at peace. Come and see what your brother has done. Let's watch together how he beat the Tsardon.'
He set her on her feet and she hugged him. With panic exploding on the deck around them and in every ship near them, they alone stood still to greet their deaths. Already, the whirlpool had caught other ships. Men were diving from decks trying to escape only to be sucked into the deeps. Jhered breathed in, enjoying his final lungfuls of air. The Hark's Arrow was spinning around the edge of destruction, moving towards the point where the spiral steepened.
The noise of the water grew. A rushing and roaring combined with wind whistling in his ears. The sight and sound battered at Jhered's senses and set every nerve tingling. The ship was being tugged faster now. They were below the horizon, surrounded by the sides of the whirlpool. Through his fear, Jhered experienced a moment of clarity in which he admired the awesome power Arducius had created.
'Don't let me go,' said Mirron. 'Whatever happens.'
And then the Hark's Arrow pitched suddenly and drove straight into heart of the swirling, battering mouth of the ocean.
Iliev took his hand from the tiller and just stared open-mouthed. His crew all stood too. They'd rowed far enough and fast enough to escape but the bireme had been sucked into the clutches of the vortex and snatched from view.
Ocetarus had reached out his hand and dragged ship after ship into his embrace. Over the wind, he thought he had heard the screams of men and the frenzied beating of drums. But so many had not escaped, clawed backwards out of sight. Tens, dozens. Gone in moments. And any that had survived were scattering away. Rowing so hard as if expecting Ocetarus to reach out and slap them to the ocean floor.
The whirlpool had quickly lost intensity and the wind had slackened. Iliev knew it was done when waves reached them, washed gently under them. Iliev steadied the tiller. He gazed out at an empty ocean. At silence. The jaws of Ocetarus had snapped shut.
'Ocenii.' Iliev's voice was a croak. 'Ocenii. We give thanks to Ocetarus for sparing us this day. We give thanks that He took our enemies from us but we mourn those of our own lost on this day of victory.'
And it was victory, no doubt about it. But it didn't feel right. Like he had been robbed of the chance to prove himself and be the first ship into the harbour, bearing the scars of war but flying the victory flag. Around them, the battle had ceased. Tsardon and Conquord crews stood and stared. Below decks, oarsmen had stopped rowing, sensing the passing of a force too powerful to oppose.
Iliev's crew sat back down and took up their oars. Iliev pulled the tiller in and the corsair came about, heading towards the harbour.
Signals were being flagged throughout the Conquord fleet. Trireme and assault galley began to row for the harbour to seal it from the Tsardon. But those Tsardon who had seen the vortex had no appetite to fight on, and those who followed up would either be turned by their fleeing comrades or be met by an overwhelming Ocetanas force.
A few hundred yards away, a barrel broke surface and bobbed on the calm surface of the sea. Iliev nodded.
'Remember we are sailors and marines and we still have honour. Let's look for survivors. Ocenii, twenty stroke, easy.'
Jhered felt a serenity over his mind. He could still see the light dancing on the water but it was distant and dull. The whirlpool had dissipated and no longer was he being dragged down. He'd managed to unclasp his cloak and lose his breastplate when that last breath had gone but it was too far back up. He had accepted that he would drown and had ceased to kick, letting the embrace of the sea take him. His eyes had closed and his mouth had fallen open.
Death played with him. There was a warm sensation in his lungs and his face felt as if it were being stroked. His lips bubbled and the brush against them sensuous, like love.
He snapped open his eyes.
Mirron was before him. Her mouth was over his and she breathed life into him in a kiss that lingered and held. He put his hands up to the side of her face. This close, she was blurred and the water moving past them was still thick with bubbles from the debris being taken to the deeps. But he was free, and unless this was his dream of death, he was alive.
They were rising. Slow and steady. He felt light, able to swim. He made a move but she stilled him with a shake of the head. So they kicked their feet in unison and rose gently together, her lips back on his and their bodies locked in embrace.
For Jhered, it could have gone on forever. There was a magic to the world below the sea and he felt a freedom he had never felt before. She was breathing for him and she was kissing him. He banished the thoughts that crowded his mind unbidden. This was a wonder to be enjoyed, not sullied.
They broke surface and Jhered breathed in a huge gasp of cold fresh air. He gagged and coughed, his body in spasm. Mirron had let him go and was swimming round him protectively. He tried to thank her but only coughed up more water. All he could do was lie on his back, exhausted.
'I couldn't hold on to you,' he said. 'You came back for me.'
'I couldn't let you die down there. I couldn't let you go.'
He must have faded out of consciousness because the next thing he knew was a sensation of warmth. He heard wood creak and the sound of oars in the water. He opened his eyes again, wondering if everything below the water had been a dream. But it wasn't. Mirron was stroking his hair. She looked like she'd been crying. There was a man's tunic about her shoulders.
He was lying in the bottom of an open boat. Against his back, he felt harsh slats and he pushed himself up on to his elbows. It was an Ocenii corsair. The man at the tiller stared directly ahead, a scowl on his face.
Jhered let Mirron help him into a seated position. Th
ey weren't the only pieces of flotsam to have been dragged from the water. Up towards the bow, Arducius was lying out flat with Ossacer near him. Jhered could barely contain his delight. Ossacer had his hands on Ardu's legs. His face was lined and grey from his Work. But he was alive.
'My but it's difficult to kill you lot,' said Jhered. 'How is he?'
'He'll live,' said Ossacer. He breathed in hard. 'He's exhausted and something broke one of his legs. It was lucky I kept hold of him.'
He turned and threw his arms around Jhered's neck. 'We thought we'd lost you, Paul.'
'I did too, Ossie. I did too.'
He held Ossacer for a long time before letting him go and nodding his head back to the tiller. 'Thank you,' he said.
'Can't have you freezing to death, Exchequer Jhered,' he said. 'You have me at a disadvantage.'
'Karl Iliev. Ocenii squad seven. We found all of you in the same area. Can't understand why any of you are still alive.'
Jhered's stomach lurched and his delight was gone. 'But we lost so many. Poor Kovan. I should have taken that javelin. Too old, too slow.'
Mirron put a hand to his face. 'If he hadn't died then, he would have drowned. There was no one down there to save him.'
Jhered nodded. 'But he saved you. I always knew his courage would show.'
Mirron's head dropped. She didn't fight against the tears. 'Who was he?' asked Iliev.
'The son of Arvan Vasselis, Marshal Defender of Caraduk. A lad who has great potential. Had.'
Iliev nodded. 'This display of your doing, was it?'
Jhered shrugged. 'In a manner of speaking. Arducius is the architect though.'
'I suppose we should thank you but . . .'
'It's all right,' said Ossacer. 'We understand.'
Jhered pulled him close once more.
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