Gate of the Gods: Book 5 of The Windows of Heaven

by K. G. Powderly Jr.

  Ursunabi and Psydon’s vessel, Paru’Ainu, had formed up with Amirdu just as U’Sumi’s flagship had begun mapping operations around the evergreen-wooded coasts of the south polar continent, which had likely been the land of Aertimikkor in the World-that-Was. There, Ursunabi’s oracle set went down, and with both other ships operating on the last of their spare equipment, the only safe thing for that ship to do was to form up with one of the others. U’Sumi had ordered Captain Haviri to come alongside Amirdu, and sent Psydon’s vessel in the opposite direction, around the polar continent, to cut mapping time, and meet up again halfway.

  At the time, Psydon’s vessel had just mapped the outer west, north to south—that increasingly mountainous coast of what used to be Aztlan and Dragonwood. Paru’Ainu’s Captain had even reported seeing what he believed to be the ruins of The Gate of the Setting Sun, high up on a mountain, overlooking an expansive bay. So much earthquake activity riddled the entire West Coast, almost pole to pole, that he did not want to risk any landing parties. Venturing into the bay had been hazardous enough.

  After sighting the possible ruins, an enormous line of volcanic eruptions had thrust up new land out of the ocean, lifting the entire coastal ridgeline by about two hundred cubits. The only thing that had saved Paru’Ainu was that ocean depth dropped off so steeply near to shore, absorbing the shock waves along the sea floor slope with barely a ripple on the surface. Psydon had ordered his ship farther out to sea after that. He had steered for the south polar continent, after he came within Amirdu’s oracle range.

  Captain Haviri’s ship, Ursunabi, had likewise mapped the eastern coasts of that same continent, where a north-south running ocean, at least as wide as the old Central Sea of the World-that-Was, had split the western continent away from the rest of the world. Haviri had mentioned seeing a large landmass to the east at one point, which he took as the western reaches of their home continent, though he could not be sure. Ursunabi had difficulty there, steering around pods of behemoth that swam westward in mass migration from the eastern landmass. This lent weight to Haviri’s guess that he had discovered the new ocean’s narrowest point.

  Once the three sun ships met up again, after mapping the south polar continent, and taking on wild waterfowl, lumber, and fresh water there, they had turned northeastward. U’Sumi’s ship had already mapped the continent directly north on that longitude, which had once likely been part of the wilds of Ae’Ri. After many months of seeing no land, except a few bare islands, the tiny fleet reached what all three captains agreed must be the southwestern end of the Great Continent, as they had come to call the main landmass where the Boat of a Million Years had landed.

  There, U’Sumi had ordered Psydon’s vessel to turn west by southwest to encircle the continent, in hope of meeting up with some of the other ships once the coast turned northward again. It seemed the best chance of reconnecting with vessels that, at last contact, were mapping the northern hemisphere. Amirdu and Ursunabi would proceed back to Uruk Haven to report progress, and explain why operations had taken nearly three times longer than anticipated.

  That had been more than two months ago. Since then, the two ships had lost sight of the coast when it had curved suddenly north from its former northeastward line, during a foggy night.

  U’Sumi decided after that to make their best speed for Uruk Haven rather than turning to regain sight of land. That particular coastline was not essential to his final landmass area calculation, since they knew where it ended and where it began.

  U’Sumi stepped out of the oracle shack, and climbed to the flying bridge to enjoy the calm, clear late morning. Only when he stood up from the ladder did he see the fireballs in the northern skies, heading right for him.

  67

  Psydon cursed and kicked the bulkhead, embedding his foot in a soft spot within the heavily kapar-coated weave of reed fiber. This elicited yet another curse, louder than the last.

  His oracle operator cringed. The Captain’s enormous girth took up most of the tiny cabin.

  “Can’t you boost the quickfire amplitude?”

  “It’s already at maximum, Captain. We’re moving out of range.”

  Psydon indulged in a third expletive, followed by, “Swine-dung on the range! Keep trying, and send for me if you raise them!”

  He stormed forward to Paru’Ainu’s wheelhouse, and checked their speed and heading. A fresh wind had taken up the sun-sheets, and the auxiliary wind-sails, out of the south, pushing them northerly at a brisk pace.

  Psydon said to both his Khaldi motor-mage and helmsman, “Secure from quickfire motors, and charge the cells. Keep land to your starboard beam.”

  Both answered, “Aye, Captain.”

  Psydon unlocked the instrument locker, and removed his sextant-timepiece-calculator to update their longitudinal reading. “Just as I thought!” he muttered to himself, once he had his figure.

  The first officer, Tyr, entered the wheelhouse as Psydon spoke.

  “What’s that, Captain?”

  Psydon turned to his second in command, who was also his oldest son. “I don’t think Haviri was at the ocean narrows during his southward voyage, when he saw land on both sides. We’ve had a fresh wind at our stern most of the time ever since turning north. According to Haviri’s latitude coordinates, we should be near where he encountered the swimming behemoths. But we’re more than fifteen full degrees east of that position, longitudinally.”

  “Perhaps there’s a large archipelago, or a small continent, or both. Many smaller animals than behemoth can swim well enough to island hop.”

  Psydon nodded. “Maybe, but we’ve seen no land except east.”

  Tyr said, “Perhaps we should put out to sea at a forty-five degree angle to our current heading, northwestward. We can always veer east again if nothing appears after a week or so.”

  “Good idea. See to it, while I go for some food.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  68

  U’Sumi watched the southward streaking fireballs arc by overhead so close that he almost feared they would ignite the rigging. They vanished over the horizon, just as the shockwave of their passage slammed down in a furnace-like wind onto the ships. His mind snapped into action.

  He called down into the wheelhouse, “Helmsman, hard about! Align your course with that sky trail, and follow that meteor, flank speed! No matter what happens, don’t let the rudder break your heading for even a split second!” U’Sumi turned to the Boatswain, who was with him on the flying bridge, “Take in all sun sheets, and close the hatches! Break out the uannu storm gear, and rig for heavy seas!” Then he called up to the flag signal platform, and told his Signalman, “Hail Ursunabi, red flag priority! Order them about to a southward heading, and to take in their sun sails! Have them batten all hatches and rig for storm!”

  Both the wheelhouse and signals platform acknowledged his orders with terse repetitions of his words.

  They did not have long to wait.

  Amirdu came to its new southward heading, just as the approaching gray shockwave became a wall from horizon to horizon across the south.

  69

  The motor vibration thrummed through the deck boards of Haviri’s stern cabin, and up into his tired feet. He finished writing his log and personal journal entry in Old Phonetic script, using the same scroll, due to the dwindling supply of papyrex from the Boat of a Million Years that each sun ship carried in store. The log said, “Hope the water-screw shaft lasts until we reached Uruk Haven, or at least the hilly barrier lands outside the Abyssu estuaries.” The journal entry read more desperate and personal.

  Not a day passed when the Ursunabi’s captain did not yearn for his wife and two boys. Both Napalku and Yoqtani were men by now, possibly with wives of their own. They might even have children if they married young and their wives got their fertile epicycle first.

  Haviri had missed it all.

  How his wife must hate him for leaving her for this. After being gone nearly three times longer than exp
ected, Hazurada must think I’m dead. She may have even remarried. Who could blame her, with two boys to raise? The prospect of returning home had become more terror than comfort.

  A sudden wind slammed into the hull.

  Haviri distantly heard the cries of increased activity above deck. Only when Ursunabi lurched into a sudden course change, and the deck vibrations grew to a violence that meant the ship had increased to flank speed, did he shake himself free of his journal and race for the wheelhouse.

  When he came above deck, a scalding wind hit him on his right side, blasting him into the superstructure. Someone pulled him inside the wheelhouse.

  Haviri yelled, “Report!”

  The deck officer handed him his fish-like head hooded uannu dragon-hide storm gear. “Fireballs overhead north-to-south. Amirdu signals us to change course and rig for heavy seas.”

  The Helmsman shouted, “By our fathers, look at that!”

  Haviri turned to the glass domed wheelhouse window so skillfully fashioned in the furnaces of Arrata. A speeding wall of water, over a hundred cubits high, rose off their starboard bow. “Finish your turn, man!”

  The Helmsman cried, “Helm is sluggish; the shaft!”

  The wave hit.

  Ursunabi flipped over so fast that the last thing Haviri experienced was the sense of falling diagonally through the aft wheelhouse hatch, upward, past the sun sail masts, into a sky made out of foaming ocean.

  70

  U’Sumi grabbed the helm and almost hung from the wheel by his hands after his helmsman fell backwards into the closed wheelhouse hatch. For what seemed an outrageously long time, Amirdu climbed a great mountain of surf. Just when the small ship seemed ready to stall on an almost vertical wall of water, the wave crested, and U’Sumi’s vessel fell into the relative calm of its massive back swell. The speeding hump of water vanished over the northern horizon just as quickly as it had appeared.

  The Helmsman regained his feet, and took the wheel from U’Sumi again, after receiving orders to reduce speed to dead slow.

  The Captain yelled over the ship-wide voice amplifier, “Activate all quickfire lanterns! Can anyone see the Ursunabi?”

  Outside the wheelhouse, black clouds with heavy rain had suddenly replaced the sunny blue skies of only a minute ago. Lightning crackled through the roiling darkness, and visibility was down to less than a thousand cubits—just beyond the second ship’s distance from Amirdu at the time the wave struck. The few operational quickfire lanterns that remained came to life, angled down at the ocean surface to prevent glitter-blindness from rain.

  “Take the con,” U’Sumi told his helmsman. “Hard about, and begin a search pattern back northward. Maintain dead slow.”

  “Search pattern north, motor dead slow, aye, Sire.”

  U’Sumi fastened his uannu rain gear, stepped outside the wheelhouse, and turned up the ladder to the flying bridge, looking like a ridiculous human fish aboard a ship full of walking human fishes. The rain increased, decreasing visibility further.

  A watch on the signals mast called, “Man overboard, port bow!”

  U’Sumi turned that direction and saw objects floating in the water, just entering range of the nearest quickfire lantern. Some tackle, a barrel, and, clutching a broken yardarm, a man drifted into view.

  “Helm and motor, all stop!” he called into the wheelhouse. “Lower side boats for rescue operations!”

  U’Sumi rushed down to the main deck, where his crew already flipped rolled rope ladders over the side, every seven cubits or so along the rails. More heads appeared in the water, most of which swam for Amirdu.

  Several of the swimmers pulled the man clutching the broken yardarm toward the ship. U’Sumi helped his men hoist the semi-conscious fellow aboard, where he had them lay him just inside the compact, quickfire-lit galley on the main deck, to check him for injuries. The man had a small, wiry frame, and did not seem to have any broken bones. He coughed while they hoisted him up the ladder. Only when they flipped him face up in the soft galley light could U’Sumi see his face.

  It was Captain Haviri.

  71

  Psydon stood on the bridge, watching the pre-dawn sky for omens. His ship becalmed; water screws pushed it ahead at one-quarter quickfire motor power.

  He did not like the strange shadow that hung in the east ever since they had lost contact with the M’El-Ki, about three weeks ago. It seemed to hover over the vast continent—which now lay below the horizon—that separated Paru’Ainu from her two sister ships. The wind had died not long after, like some ominous calm before another Great Deluge. If the mountains had exploded again, it likely meant that another great cold would set in for decades. He was too young to remember the last one, but his father did.

  His father had told him all about it, along with why Psydon was the firstborn of “a race of slaves in a brand new world unfolding ‘neath the clear blue skies.” Khana’Ani always had such a great way with words, especially when he wanted something. Perhaps that was why shadows always managed to hang nearby for Psydon, like the darkness in the east. Often it kept him wary, which made him reluctant to hazard his ship unnecessarily. Just as often, it kept him plain old suspicious and quarrelsome, as if the whole world simply waited for an occasion to say, “Yep! There it is! The boy is just like his good-for-nothing father!”

  Except that Psydon was no boy. Every other man his age of the “Firstborn” was a senior saar or honored lugal—tribal chieftains on the Ensi Council, all. How often had he vainly hoped, against all prospect and Divine wrath, that his ship might discover some other distant pocket of humanity that had somehow survived the Deluge that Old Nu had still sometimes called “World-end?” Then Psydon might find women for himself and his men, by friendship or force, to start anew on one of the distant continents, where the name of mewling old Khana’Ani meant nothing to anyone.

  Sunrise crept along the horizon, a bloody red snake tracing the ribbon of darkness that had fallen over the east.

  For a “slave,” Psydon had done well for himself. Say what you want about the M’El-Ki, and his foolish devotion to an oath his father once made to some dead guy, but at least he was fair in rewarding hard work and skill—even from the oldest son of Khana’Ani the Accursed. Psydon, knowing his own father, thought it likely that Khana’Ani really had raped the M’El-Ki’s daughter and earned his fate. The Captain of Paru’Ainu also knew that he would never have shown such generosity of spirit to the likes of himself. He had seen more often than not that, “like father, like son.” Still, at least Psydon had never forced himself on a woman.

  It took longer for the sun to rise above the murk in the east, now off the starboard quarter. The hull shuddered, as if the small ship had just stumbled over a bump in the ocean that was no normal wave or sandbar. Psydon had felt such a thing before, off the coast of the far west continent with rising mountains. A shadowy line in the water, from horizon to horizon, sped away from the Paru’Ainu toward the northeast, having passed under the vessel faster than a shooting star.

  Less than a second afterward, an ear-shattering crack, louder than thunder, slammed into the ship. A quarter-century at sea had exposed Psydon to some terrible thunder, but nothing like the noise coming, not from the east, but this time, out of the west. The Captain turned to face a vast bank of black, roiling murk, filled with spiders of lightning hurtling at him from out of the west-southwest, horizon to horizon. If the overcast in the east was a sullen shadow, this came as a rampaging darkness.

  He froze only for an instant, and then began to shout, “Helm, change course to east-northeast! All hands, rig for…”

  Howling darkness caught the Paru’Ainu before her captain could finish his sentence. Fortunately, the morning watch had not yet hoisted the sun-sails, or else the blast would have torn them from their masts. Psydon crouched below the bridge rail, until the hot tempest subsided as suddenly as it arrived. He stood up again, to see a terrifying smoke cover the entire length of the west, to which not even the volcano
es and mountain chain lifting he had seen on the far side of the westernmost continent compared.

  He scrambled down from the bridge into the wheelhouse.

  Tyr shouted orders to the rigging crews over the ship-wide voice-sender.

  The Helmsman, on seeing Psydon in the wheelhouse, said; “Captain in the con! Heading is null-seven-five, east-northeast, steady as she goes!”

  When a sailor handed him an uannu-skin storm jacket, Psydon wrapped himself in it quickly, despite the fact that there was no rain, and the air had become quite hot.

  The Captain of the Paru’Ainu did not want any of his crew to know that he was trembling.

  72

  It took nearly three months for the Amirdu II to reach the large serpentine channel entrance through the coastal highlands into the seemingly endless Abyssu Estuaries.

  They had rescued about a third of the Ursunabi’s crew, which made for even tighter space on a vessel that already had too little room. Thin tempers flared, and it didn’t help that rain had poured almost constantly since the impact of the falling star. When it had not rained, the skies stayed as dark and foul as the crew.

  U’Sumi noticed immediately, on finding the channel connecting the Abyssu with the open ocean, that despite the downpour, sea level had fallen by almost a hundred cubits since he had last been there. It took another month to traverse the mires northwestward to Uruk Haven, because the vast swamplands had drained off into a series of silted-in lakes and streams, many of which were now too shallow to navigate. Only convergence of so many rivers into so limited a range of courses made the feat nautically possible.