by JW Webb
It was Ariane’s signal.
A horn blew thrice announcing a lone figure’s appearance on the city walls. All eyes watched as the woman cloaked in Goddess-Green approached dragon and rider as though they were mere phantoms in the darkness. A tiny shape clad in cloak and sparkling armour, the queen’s measured tread led her to where Vaarg loomed, a hundred ton of scale and malice. Ariane of the Swords strode out to defend her city.
“Go back!” Queen Ariane’s small brittle voice reached Morak and Vaarg, both baffled and amused by her bold approach.
“You are not welcome here!”
Morak raised Golganak like a thorn of pain and Ariane shuddered as its menace nearly snapped her resolve like a dried twig. She gulped and took a step toward them.
“Elanion protects me; I am Her conduit! Her missile! Be gone lest She blast you to oblivion!” Ariane made the sign and uttered the words taught her long ago by Dazaleon the High Priest. She spoke the unlocking rune that only those of royal blood could utter and survive.
“Kraken awake!”
Outside the city, the Groil fell back in dismay as Lake Wynais’s clear waters erupted to reveal a beast as large as Vaarg. An acre of slime and oil, the kraken reared its massive sloping head. Ariane’s command had woken he city’s sleeping defender and the Goddess’s ancient guardian.
Ariane’s voice had changed with that last command, and a sudden explosion of light revealed a figure standing high and tall above the walls and towering over Ariane—a warrior maiden and giantess, flanked by three smaller women: the Fates Scolde, Vervandi, and Urdei. Their mother, Elanion, like Her guardian, the kraken, had answered Ariane’s summons and now appeared in the guise of Scaffa the Warrior Queen.
But Morak laughed at both queens whilst Vaarg mocked the kraken with his lizard gaze. “We too have help!” Morak yelled at the giant Goddess. “Look you! See that darkness smothering the southern skyline. Our Master comes, and He is greater by far than you, Mistress of the Trees!”
Ariane and her Goddess turned to see a darkening gloom billowing outwards towards Wynais from the south. A great storm approached, and it carried with it a wrongness of violence, stench, and decay. The forces of chaos had arrived.
Then horns blew out from the other direction, and another shining host filled the night sky from the north. Oroonin guided His steed down through the thermals, The Wild Hunt swooping behind.
Scaffa gazed up at Her husband and brother.
“So you come at last, Corpse Gatherer. Much needed are you in this our final battle. Come Husband, let ust destroy Old Night forever!”
But Oroonin hung back and bid his host wait silent in the sky. His cold gaze fell on His wife.
“I choose not to partake at this time. Instead I will watch you fight, beloved. I have always enjoyed watching you in battle!”
“Coward!” Vervandi yelled up at her father.
“Traitor!” Scolde clawed her fingers at the sky.
“Shite bag and stinker!” Urdei stuck her tongue out and stamped her foot.
“Father, would you desert your children as well as your wife and this green world?” Vervandi chose another tactic.
“Gladly, for you four have brought me nought but grief these last millennia!” came the response.
A fell wind descended on Wynais, and dark shadows filled the night as Soilfins and worse creatures hurtled down upon the city.
“Then Yffarn take you, Husband!”
Scaffa turned to face He who had come alone. Forgotten for the moment, Ariane fled back inside the citadel. The stakes of this game were raised beyond her level; best she keep her head down with the rest.
And so He returned at last as was so long forewarned. Cul-Saan, Firstborn of the Weaver, proudest and strongest of the Great Old Gods. He stood calm and terrible, beautiful and darker than the night surrounding him. Then He shed that darkness like an obsidian cloak from His massive shoulders. Instead, now He blazed like the fallen star He was. Soon after, Wynais’s stones began to smoulder.
***
They moored in shallow waters and waded ashore. Barin and Ulani organised three teams and bid them get busy setting up defences against the approaching pirate ships. They would be heavily outnumbered, but they had among their number Barin of Valkador, King Ulani and his daughter, Olen and Arami of the Rorshai, Bleyne the archer, and last up, Corin an Fol.
Whilst he was slamming a sharp pole into the sand Corin glanced up, feeling a nudge. “A word if you will.” Barin grabbed Corin’s arm and led him aside to a grove of live oaks flanking the shoreline, whilst Shallan watched with worried eyes. At a nod from Barin she followed as did Zukei, close at her heels. Bleyne, watching from further along the beach, tapped Prince Tarin’s shoulder. “You still have it?” The archer’s hard brown gaze bored into the prince’s face.
“Of course!”
“Time to leave then.” Bleyne and Tarin slipped away from their defence-building chores, and once out of sight, sprinted to join Shallan and Zukei at the edge of the trees. Just ahead, Barin was talking in quiet tones to Corin; both appeared not to have noticed them. But Tarin knew different.
“Best you get going lad,” Barin was saying. “I think we’ve reached the endgame at last. We’ll keep those yobbos entertained whilst you go fetch your sword.”
“I’d rather stay here and fight with you.” Corin’s gaze swept out to sea where the black sails of Rael’s sharks had grown larger. They were approaching fast.
“Destiny lad, you can’t change that. You of all people —”
“Should know,” Corin nodded and grasped Barin’s arm. “Stay alive until I get back, and keep my woman safe.”
“Your woman is coming with you.” Shallan stood there, reunited with her horn and bow, with Zukei standing wary two paces behind her.
“I go alone,” Corin told Shallan and bid Zukei leave them. She stayed put.
“Zukei stays with me, and we’re going with you, as are Bleyne and Prince Tarin.” Corin looked across to see these two appear as if by magic.
“What the?”
But Shallan’s tone brooked no room for argument. “We decided this during the voyage yesterday. We’ve spoken to no one else except Barin and King Ulani. You cannot take this upon yourself, Corin. I simply won’t let you.”
Corin cursed under his breath. “This is my task, Shallan—mine alone. I told you what the Wanderer said. Coming with me only puts you in danger.”
“And staying on this beach ensures my safety?” Shallan chuckled. “They are coming, Corin, they’ll be here inside an hour. I don’t want to be reunited with Rael Hakkenon or Hagan Delmorier again, so I suggest we stop quibbling and start walking. That looks like a long hot climb to the top of that mountain.”
Corin shook his head in wonder. “You, woman, are a constant source of amazement to me.” He sighed in resignation. “So no one else knows, not even your brother?”
“No, but we had best get going before they find out.”
“You are the third team,” Barin smiled. “I chose three so the other two would be busy on their own chores and not notice team three’s disappearance.” Barin sounded pleased with himself.
“I’ve always had a flair for logistics. Well, I’m off to help with our makeshift defences.” Barin grinned and clapped Corin on the back. “I led you away lad, so Shallan and these others could join you. Ulani is keeping everyone busy down there. Now go, and bring us back that sword!”
“Connivers,” sniffed Corin but he seemed happy for the company. “That’s settled then. Time to get moving!” Corin slung Clouter’s harness over his shoulder, and gripping Shallan’s palm tightly, led her deeper into the bird noisy-woods and up the first gentle slopes of the looming Bhogha Mountain, wreathed in a rainbow.
Behind the lovers prowled Zukei, King’s daughter, Karyia in left fist and throwing axe in right. Prince Tarin followed the dark woman; a short sword (care of Barin’s store) swung from his waist belt, as did the small bag containing the Tekara. The pri
nce wore an expression of resolute determination.
Last up, Bleyne nocked arrow to bow and stole silent and smooth behind Prince Tarin. Every now and then he would turn and glance for any sign of movement below.
And so they progressed through wood and copse, the warmth of a welcome summer sun lifting their spirits and strengthening their limbs. By afternoon they cleared the woods and saw the tumbled grey rocks of Bhogha Mountain looming close. A path threaded between boulders, twisting up steep and slippery.
This they followed for over an hour until a sheer wall of cliff blocked their way ahead. At the base of the cliff was a brown door, simple and unadorned. It was leaning ajar and looked as though no one had passed through it in years.
The companions exchanged glances, and Corin’s gaze lifted to the sky above where the rainbow arched, bridging the mountain. As he watched he saw its closest end shed multiple light upon the door, the six-coloured filtration flooding the entrance and dazzling their eyes.
Corin glanced at Shallan. She nodded and squeezed his arm and together they vanished behind the door. Zukei followed quickly, then the prince, a touch more hesitant. Bleyne turned and glanced down to the calm blue bay in the distance.
He could see The Starlight Wanderer surrounded by five smaller vessels and his keen ears picked out faint noises of clashing steel and hoarse shouts. A mile out to sea, King Redhand’s rafts drifted closer to shore. Bleyne’s lips tightened and he shouldered his bow, and without a sound followed the others into the world hidden behind the brown door.
***
Tolemon took a break from his work and gazed around the sandy strand they had chosen for their defences. He saw no sign of Shallan or her lover and noted there were others missing too. Angry, he approached Barin who sweated with a tree limb over his shoulder, which he planned using as a barricade.
Barin saw Tolemon approach and pulled a mournful face. He didn’t much care for Shallan’s surviving brother.
“Hello there!” Barin awarded his brightest grin, but Tolemon blocked his path with eyes heavy as thunder. “Mind out, this is weighty and I need to place it on yonder ridge.” Tolemon stepped aside as Barin heaved his twelve-foot burden forward and pitched it onto the allotted ridge of sand to join the other four tree limbs—the mainstay of their quick-built fortress.
Tolemon approached Barin from behind as the Northman wiped sweat from his forehead.
“Where is my sister?” Tolemon stood with legs braced and hand on sword hilt.
“Is she missing? I hadn’t noticed.” Barin noted Toleman’s stance and frowned. “May happen she’s attending a call of nature. I’m sure she’ll be back in a mo.”
“You’re a deceitful bastard.” Tolemon’s grip on his sword tightened and Barin, seeing that, scowled and folded his arms.
“Easy now, think you a match for me, boy?” Tolemon glared at him but said nothing. “You need to lighten up, Morwellan. We are allies are we not?”
“Well, tell me where has she gone then! Corin too, and the black witch for that matter!”
“Zukei—she has a name. They’ve gone to get Callanak.” Barin grinned at him. “That’s the third team’s job. You’re not in the third team, so fuck off.”
“Why wasn’t I informed of this?”
“No one was told as didn’t need know.” Barin’s expression darkened further as he saw the five ships closing on the beach. “Now please bugger off and get busy, Tolemon lad, we’ll have company shortly.”
Tolemon turned and raised his hand over his eyes. He spat in the sand, seeing the five lean vessels using sail and oar to make hastily for he shore.
“We’ll talk about this later, Northman. I am the Duke of Morwella!”
“Just piss off,” Barin muttered under his breath and set about fixing his tree limbs as best he could to form a defensive wall.
Taic approached and helped his uncle. “Nearly done.” Taic grinned at their achievement—a rough circle comprising tree limbs, axe-sharpened stakes, sand pits to trip and slow the enemy advance, and shore stones for throwing and clubbing, as extra weapons if needed. Not bad for a morning’s graft.
“Just as well, our company is arriving.” Barin rested Wrmfang against a tree limb and stood tall, straightening his back.
Close by, Tolemon watched the ships pass where The Starlight Wanderer rested anchored in the light breeze. The five sharks gracefully glided towards the strand, sails stowed and oars shipped as the gentle swell eased ship to shore. Tolemon turned away and noticed footsteps in the sand leading off to a knot of live oaks hanging close to the water.
Eyes narrowing, he followed and soon discovered other footsteps, including what must surely be Shallan’s. They led beneath the trees and beyond where a rough path vanished into the woods.
***
Rael, scanning the shore, smiled seeing the lone figure flit into the woods to the left. “That’s our quarry,” he told Cruel Cavan and Hagan standing beside him. “We’ll leave the lads to deal with Barin and follow that one to see what he is up to!”
Rael hadn’t told a soul about the visitor who’d settled sulky and silent on the stern of The Black Serpent late last night while they were passing through the surreal realm of ice.
Gribble had appeared out of sorts and wing-flappy. The Soilfin had a battered worn-out look and his eyes were even more bloodshot and shifty than usual.
“Big news, Mr Assassin. For your ears only!”
Hagan was asleep in his hammock, as were King Daan and his men, snoring in their furs, but Cavan and a few crew lurked about. Rael signalled his second, who blanched seeing the goblin again.
“Private consultancy.” Rael wagged a finger and Cavan nodded, making sure his crew were out of earshot.
“Big news,” Gribble repeated. “Lots happening, changes coming. Important matters! Have to tell you!”
“Well fucking get on with it!” Rael uncorked his brandy flask and took an impatient pull. “What’s Caswallon up to?” Rael belched and awarded the goblin a baleful glare.
“Not much really, being on account that he’s dead.”
“What?”
“I handed in my resignation after Morak got his spear back,” Gribble chewed a finger that he’d retrieved from his secret pocket under the folds of his left wing.
“Morak killed Caswallon?”
“Him or Vaarg, the pair of them reduced Kella City to ashes. They’ve always been rough, those two.”
“Fuck, but that’s a surprise.”
“Not really.” Gribble picked a nostril. “Mr Caswallon upset the wrong people. There’s always someone bigger out there.”
Rael drained his brandy and received a bad case of hiccups. “Squeeze your nose, it helps,” Gribble suggested.
“Shut up and tell me what else is happening whilst I’m marooned here at the top of the world. Who do you work for now—Morak Dogface?”
“No, he’s a bad payer. I mean yes, unofficially I’ll work for him to keep my head on my shoulders, but I’m already looking at my options. The Big Boss is back in town.”
“Big Boss? Is this someone I know?”
“The Big Boss, stupid. Dog-Lord’s boss, my boss. Everybody’s boss unless they work for the other lot. I’m going to see if He’ll employ me direct and cut out the middleman. He has several hundred Soilfin working for Him.”
“What in the Nine Worlds are you wittering about, Goblin? Who is back?”
“Old Night, Lord of Chaos and Futility. Destroyer of Worlds and Crusher of Souls,” Gribble announced rather grandly. “Enemy of all living things, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera!”
“Well that’s a bit harsh, really.” Rael wished he had more brandy.
“You’ll be all right, Mr Assassin. You’re nasty to the bone. Boss will like you, He usually grills mortals alive, but I daresay He’ll promote you if you keep your noggin. Of course it helps to have friends in the right places; I’ll happily put in a word for a small fee.”
Rael gazed out across the ice where weird
howls announced something hunting in the night. “Creepy place.” Gribble chewed his stowaway finger, stripping pale flesh with his fangs.
“So that’s it,” Rael said. “Caswallon’s dead, and the fallen god Old Night has returned from Yffarn to destroy the world. I appreciate your flying all this way to tell me. It’s just the sort of cheerful news I needed.”
“There is more. A way to get in with Morak and therefore with Himself too.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Have you wondered why Fat Barin is sailing to the top of the world?”
“Hadn’t really dwelt on it.” The sarcasm was lost on Gribble.
“They seek Callanak.”
“Arollas’s legendary sword,” Rael nodded. “Well why not? Who wouldn’t? And it’s as sensible an idea as anything else I’ve heard lately. I remember the stories well enough. The sword Callanak can cut clean through any metal. It was instrumental in defeating the Urgolais, but was lost after that war—or something like that. Riveting.”
“It wasn’t lost, just stowed somewhere safe.”
“And that’s their destination. Find sword, slay Big Boss, retire and have a nice cup of tea.”
“You cannot slay Big Boss. Even when He’s chopped into little bits. But Callanak stalemates Golganak—renders Morak’s black shaft impotent, if you’ll pardon my expression.” Gribble’s smirk was lost on Rael.
“So, Doglord Morak wants the sword busted before they can use it. Do this for him, and he will put in a word for you at Big Boss HQ.”
“Terrific!” Rael flashed the goblin his brilliant smile. “And will breaking said sword involve me finding my enemies and skewering them?”
“Yes, that’s likely.”
“Good, then I’m your man. Now bugger off, Goblin, and let me get some sleep.”
“Don’t you want to know where the sword is?” Gribble teased.
“Laras Lassladden, I remember the legend. I had an education once, Goblin.”
“I hate that you still call me goblin, after all we’ve been through.” Gribble flapped his wings and prepared for lift off. “Some things hurt, you know.”
“’Tis a term of endearment, old fruit.”