The Road to Hell - eARC

by David Weber

  Headed directly into the room he’d ordered his armsmen to avoid.

  “’Bessa!” Zindel chan Calirath thundered, his mind full of fire and blast, his body already screaming protest of the agony he knew was to come. He should have been paralyzed, should have been lost in the crushing power of his Death Glimpse, but his Talent had always been powerful. Now, like his son at Fort Salby, he was in fugue state. He Saw the world about him, Saw the future, Saw the agony, Saw his daughter’s death, Saw his own, Saw the slim possibility that Anbessa might live, and he threaded the needle between those futures—all of them potential; each of them in that moment as real as any other—and raced towards her.

  “Daddy?” she looked up at the sound of his voice, and even in fugue state, his heart spasmed with terror.

  She was standing in front of a tray of chocolates. In the room. Oh, gods…

  “’Bessa! Run!” he shouted. “Get to the balcony! Now!”

  She dropped the candy and ran towards him, but his own armsmen had realized which way he was headed. Two of them hurled themselves at him, desperate to tackle him and drag him bodily to safety, but he was in fugue state. He Saw them coming, knew exactly where they’d be, where their hands would be, and he went through them like smoke, smelling the fire, racing to embrace it. He was at the door, through the door, and Anbessa was six feet from him and running hard when he saw the terrible flash of light. It started at the back of the room. The table of candies exploded. The whole back of the room exploded.

  The blast cracked open the room’s gas lines and the entire enormous salon ignited. The guards who’d tried to stop him vanished into a boiling inferno, flame belched through the room, and Anbessa was still three steps away. The blast front roared over him, and he reached into it, closed his hand around her outstretched fingers. Heat crisped all around them, and Zindel chan Calirath pulled with all his massive, bull-shouldered strength, all the desperate power of a father who would not lose another child. He spun, his baby girl somehow in his arms, and hurled his daughter through the air, threw her violently forward, a living javelin.

  The second explosion blew out the doors.

  And part of the wall. It picked him up, hurled him back toward the balcony like a toy, swept everything off the balcony. It blew out the stone railing and hurled all of them out and down in a blazing ruin of flame.

  * * *

  Andrin gripped the ship’s railing. The Glimpse struck her like a club and she fought to see details. It was like seeing two different events through one set of eyes. She saw the Grand Palace, cracked open, fiercely ablaze. Papa! she screamed in silent horror, watching the flames engulf her father, watching the explosion sweep him off the broken balcony like a shattered doll. But there was fire all around her, as well, fire above her, fire and black water, deep and terrible and her lungs were bursting, but she couldn’t breathe for the flames and terrible black water that was dragging her down while hell blew up around her—

  “Get off the ship!” she croaked.

  “What?” Howan Fai asked, staring at her.

  “Off the ship! A Glimpse—just now—I was in the water. There was fire everywhere, all around, I couldn’t breathe, oh, God—”

  She saw two things simultaneously.

  Men in black, form-fitting clothing. They charged across the deck, converging on her. And a massive explosion behind them. An explosion that sent fire belching into the night from the heart of Tajvana. The Grand Palace had blown open. Fire belched out of it.

  “PAPA!” she screamed.

  Gunfire erupted—

  —and she plunged over the rail. Was shoved over the rail. Finena launched from her wrist. The falcon screamed. Andrin screamed as she fell. As she plunged down the long, long hull. Toward the cold, black water of the sea.

  And then the vicious shock of impact smashed through her.

  The water was hard as stone. She’d turned instinctively to protect her belly and her side struck brutally. The cold shocked her whole body, and then she was under the water, down in the terrible black depths. Her gown was pulling her even deeper and she fought its weight. Ripped at the buttons, the seams. She couldn’t fight free of it. Her lungs were bursting. Panic throbbed through her. Gripped her throat. Stabbed through her, knife-sharp with every pulse of her wildly racing heart.

  Someone had her wrist. She flailed wildly. Hands pulled her from behind. Then the heavy weight of her gown ripped away. She felt suddenly light as goose down and she kicked frantically. Swam madly up—hoped she was swimming up, not deeper into the endless black water. She was suddenly propelled upwards by the strong grip of whoever had torn off her heavy dress. Her lungs were on fire. She couldn’t stand it. Had to gulp now—

  Her head broke water.

  She sucked down air—huge, shuddering lungfuls of it—and Howan Fai was beside her, face lit by the exploding fireworks overhead as they were jostled in the wake of the passing ships. Her yacht was already fifty yards ahead of them and pulling away steadily as the wind in her sails and the current in the straits carried her forward. The first destroyer was even farther away, out in the main channel; she couldn’t even spot the other one in the dark waters, but she could breathe—she could breathe!—and Howan Fai was with her. They hadn’t—

  A sparkle of light erupted on Peregrine’s decks. Gunfire! Those men in black swarmed across the yacht. Fighting Andrin’s armsmen. Fighting Imperial Security. Fighting the Marines her father had stationed aboard. Andrin drew breath to cry out for help—

  Peregrine exploded.

  The whole yacht blew apart. Flaming debris arced high through the air, hurled violently across the water, came flying down in a lethal rain.

  “Breathe!” Howan Fai shouted.

  She gulped air—and her husband dragged her under. He swam frantically down, as frantically as they’d just swum up. The water lit up, bright as daylight, and saltwater burned her barely slitted eyes even as she tried to make out the dark shapes sharing the cold waters.

  A shockwave tumbled them through the water. Something massive slammed down past her, plunging its way toward the bottom, and the water blazed above them.

  Great sheets of flame spread far and wide overhead, and Howan Fai swam hard sideways, towing her frantically toward the darkness. She started to kick that same direction, and for the first time in her life, Andrin was grateful she was large and strong, with more power in her body than grace. She swam with a single-minded determination toward the dark water beyond the flames, and when she reached it, she swam madly up, lungs nearly bursting yet again.

  When her head broke water a second time, she sucked down air in gasping, painful shudders. Oh, Triad, help us, please…She searched wildly, trying to find Howan Fai again. Then he was beside her, gulping down air, as well, treading water at her side. She gripped his hand, gripped hard, trembling and crying as the emotional and physical shocks hit her.

  Beyond them, the sea was an inferno. The fuel gushing from Peregrine’s ruptured hull spilled across the surface of the water, turning the waves into a raging sheet of flame. The yacht was nothing but wreckage. She’d broken in half and the two halves were sinking, still fiercely ablaze. Andrin heard people screaming in the flames, heard the engine-throb of the destroyer closest to them.

  She was opening her mouth to scream for help when Howan Fai covered her lips with his hand and shook his head urgently. He nodded with his head and she saw another boat—one with a haze above it, visible only when it rose on the very crest of a wave and instantly gone again when it slid into a trough. A smaller craft than Peregrin, it sat rocking in the waves less than thirty feet from them.

  It was a pleasure boat, one of the new power cruisers rich men liked to speed in, racing across harbors and bays, kicking up spray behind them in gleeful abandon.

  This boat wasn’t kicking up spray. It sat silent and dark, ominous in the black water. Then she heard the voices. Men’s voices. Low, rapid, speaking in a language she recognized as the Othmaliz dialect of Shurkhali
. What they said riveted her entire attention.

  “—no one could’ve lived through that,” an angry voice snarled. “Gods damn it! How could those fools have bungled the job so badly? It was a cinch! Board in the darkness, snatch that cutcha, and dump her over the rail. Aruncas knows the fishes are hungry, and I Masked this job, neat as anything. We should’ve been halfway across the Straits before the bomb blew. But no, they botched it! That was a godsdamned gun battle, raging up there, before it blew apart!”

  Another voice, no less appalled, said, “The Seneschal will be furious. His Eminence wanted that—what was your word, cutcha?—to vanish. Swallowed by the waves and never recovered!”

  “Dead is dead,” the Masker chuckled nastily, “and that frigging explosion won’t leave much in the way of identifiable bodies! But if they can’t trot out every tall fisher girl up and down the Ylani as the missing heiress for the next decade, that’s the Seneschal’s problem, not ours. We did our part. Let’s finish this.”

  A large form blocked Andrin’s view of the boat for a moment and then slid on by.

  “Good enough,” said one of the Bergahldians.

  “Fine,” replied the Masker. “Get us out of here before those fucking destroyers decide to strafe every boat within a thousand yards.”

  “I thought they couldn’t see us,” said a third voice showing a little more fear.

  “They’ll see us just fine if you let a stray bullet hit me. Finish Calling your hungry little friends, and we can get out of here,” said the Masker.

  “I’d really rather we got to shore first.”

  “Do it!” snarled the Bergahldian.

  The boat didn’t race away. That would have attracted too much attention. Instead, it chuffed slowly away under low power while the destroyers raked the flaming wreckage with searchlights, looking for survivors. Andrin realized quite abruptly that she was nearly naked in freezing cold water. She’d begun to shiver while listening to those murderous ghouls and those shivers were rapidly turning into shudders.

  “Swim, Andrin,” Howan Fai said grimly beside her. “It will help keep us warm until we’re close enough for someone to hear us or see us.”

  She nodded. Then she reached across the dark water and touched his face. “You saved my life. Again and again, tonight.” There was more salt in her eyes than the sea could account for. “Oh, Triad! Howan, Daddy and Mama and the girls…” She was crying, fighting desperately for control, but the pain was tearing her in half. “I’m not ready to be Empress! Not like this!” she cried.

  Howan Fai hooked one arm around her and churned the water with his legs to hold them both up. The strength of his arms and his ease in the water calmed her even before he started speaking, and Finena, circling in the air above, invisible in the darkness, cried out her fury. Andrin had almost forgotten her falcon.

  “Sister of White Fire,” her husband said in a stern voice, “you’re strong enough to do anything. To endure anything. You’re Talented enough to protect your life and my life and this whole world we love. If not for your Glimpse, we would both be dead. Your warning gave me time to act. To throw you over the rail before those murderers could reach you. If you can save us from a plot this well orchestrated, Andrin, you can do anything you must!”

  His voice was fierce. His eyes, lit by the fires raging across the water, were as hot as the flames that had nearly killed them both, and that fierceness steadied her. She was still shaking, but the hysterics were draining away and what was left was merely the shudders of icy water and reaction.

  “I’m c-cold, Howan,” she chattered. “Let’s s-swim.”

  This time, it was his grin that was fierce.

  “That’s the woman I love. Swim with me, Andrin. We have but a little way to go.” He pointed to the closer of the two destroyers, which had left the deep channel in the center of the Straits to search for survivors. She heard shouts as sailors from both ships lowered lifeboats and she saw searchlights sweeping across the flaming ruin of her beautiful yacht. She wouldn’t think, yet, about the people who’d died aboard that yacht. Her servants, her security men, her crew…

  She started to swim.

  It seemed such a short distance, but it was a long, brutal swim in the cold water, with her body shuddering and her teeth chattering. They swam five yards beyond the edge of the burning fuel, having to skirt debris floating in the dark water. Some of that debris had been human and she closed her eyes and kept swimming, trying to blot out the numb horror of what she was seeing.

  She swam slowly, exhausted as the adrenalin rush wore off, and Howan Fai matched her pace stroke for stroke.

  “Keep going,” he encouraged her. “Almost there.”

  They watched another lifeboat hit the water and push off. Its crew had lit rescue torches, looking frantically for survivors. The flames were so fierce the lifeboats couldn’t even get close to the sinking wreckage and she heard them, faintly, calling out across the wreckage and the crackling of the flames.

  “Hello! Hello! Can anyone hear me?”

  She and Howan Fai were too far away, yet, to be heard above the secondary explosions that ripped periodically through the yacht’s broken hull. Mixed in with those hopeful shouts were curses, raging and frantic as men swore in savage tones. She could even hear what sounded like weeping. She’d never heard grown men cry, before. They’re crying for me, she realized through her numb weariness. Her lungs hurt from the gasping breaths she pulled down, trying to force her flagging body forward.

  One of the lifeboats began moving toward them. It was skirting the wreckage, trying to get at the debris from another direction. They didn’t expect to find anyone out here, this far from the ship, but their maneuver brought them unknowingly closer to Andrin and Howan Fai. She gritted her teeth and kept swimming. If they could just get a little closer, so the men in the lifeboat could hear them shout above the noise of the burning yacht…

  Something bumped Andrin’s leg.

  Something large. Something rough as sandpaper. Something alive. Then a fin broke water, a big fin. And a tail fin appeared, as well, nearly fifteen feet away from her. Andrin froze in place, water rising around her.

  “S-shark!” she gasped. “Oh, Merciful Triads—Howan—sharks! I wasn’t supposed to drown here! They wanted me eaten alive!”

  The fins sped up and knifed past her. A chunk of debris—human debris—floating ten feet away vanished into the black water. Howan Fai watched in wide-eyed horror. Then he shouted with all his strength.

  “HELP!” The bellow raced across the black water.

  Andrin shrieked as more fins appeared in the water. “Help! Sharks!”

  Someone shouted. A man stood up in the lifeboat. A light caught them full in the eyes. The man standing in the boat was lifting something. Throwing something. Right at them. A life ring smacked down beside them. They lunged for it, grabbed hold as still more fins cut through the water. Some of those fins were far larger than others, and she sensed a mad swirl of violence all about her.

  The instant they gripped the life ring, the men in the lifeboat hauled on the rope, and Andrin and Howan Fai shot forward through the water. Something big grazed her kicking legs again. Scraped it raw. Something else brushed against her and rolled pushing her hard. She screamed—

  —and then something was under her, heaving, sending her hurtling up like an elevator. Whatever it was literally threw her over the lifeboat’s side, into the startled arms of one of the sailors. The man’s arms closed instinctively as her hurtling weight knocked him flat. She landed on top of him, and an instant later, Howan Fai was beside her, coughing and shaking.

  Andrin sprawled across the bottom of the boat, across bits and pieces of several men, shuddering violently with cold and terror. Her leg bled where the shark had hit her the second time, but she shoved herself up on an elbow, staring back out at the water. The searchlights picked out more and more sharks teaming the strait, yet something else was out there too. Massive fins were ripped down under the wave
s not to emerge.

  Andrin clung tight to the gunwale watching the sea battle. Something towed a corpse in Imperial Guard uniform and lifted it with surprising gentleness—once, twice, and three times until the searchers overcame their shock enough to pull it onboard.

  A black and white orca’s face with a rough scar over the left eyespot examined her for a long solemn moment before twisting back towards the maddened swarm of shark fins. Whatever the Order of Bergahl’s Talent had done, the cetaceans were aware and fighting.

  She heard a blur of voices as the boat rocked violently under her.

  Then someone had a blanket wrapped around her. She allowed herself to be lifted again, turned and propped against a shoulder. Someone pressed a metal rim to her lips, exhorting her to sip, to swallow whatever was in the flask he held, and she gulped down fiery liquid. The whiskey tore down her throat and left her coughing and wheezing, but it warmed her up and steadied her down.

  The blur of voices resolved into the sound of men weeping in wild relief. Someone was saying, over and over, “Oh, thank the Triads, Shalana’s mercy, oh, thank the Triads…” and someone else was cursing in rough tones that she slowly realized were an expression of shock and a release of stress too deep to endure. Someone else was shouting through a megaphone. “We’ve got her! We’ve found the Crown Princess! She’s alive, we’ve got her safe, she’s all right and the Crown Prince Consort is with her…”

  Andrin found herself looking up into the face of the sailor she leaned against. He was just a common seaman, a rough-faced, ordinary sailor in his early forties, from the look of him, but there were tears in his eyes and on his weathered cheeks, and he held a whiskey flask.

  “Need another swallow?” he asked gently.

  She nodded.

  He had to hold the flask to her lips, again, and she swallowed another deep gulp, shuddering as it ripped down her throat and tore into her belly. But it helped ease the painful shudders The cold of the water, the cold of physical exhaustion, the cold of deep and desperate terror had left her shaking so violently, she couldn’t even control her own arms and legs.