“I’m sorry that this happened,” Parker said. “I never imagined that my Father would betray me, betray us.”
“Don’t worry about it, Parker,” Brock replied. “Go grab that lamp. We’ll need the light to retrace our steps.” As Parker grabbed the lamp, Brock addressed the others. “I’ll take the lead. It should be night outside now, so we should be able to slip out without running into trouble. Now, let’s get out of here.”
With Parker and the lamp a step behind, Brock darted down the corridor. Retracing the route they had taken to the dungeon, he led them through the depths of the keep. They crossed the room filled with old relics, going through the double-doorway and up the long flight of stairs. After running down the dark corridor at the top of the stairs, they passed through the underground office where the city clerks worked, only to find the room dark and the desks empty. Up the short flight of stairs and down the long corridor they went, turning at the end to head toward the stairwell leading up to the main hall. Brock slowed the group as they climbed the stairs, hoping that they might remain inconspicuous. Expecting it to be quiet since it was well past nightfall, he was surprised at the flurry of activity within the citadel.
People in a state of panic scurried about the open space. A group of guards struggled against the stream of civilians flowing into the building, eventually forcing their way outside. Not having time to consider what was happening, Brock jumped in line with the guards and followed them outside with his companions trailing close behind.
As Brock led them across outer hall, the noise and hysteria became even more intense. People ran in every direction within the plaza, seeking entry to the buildings inside the citadel walls. The night sky suddenly grew bright as a ball of flames arced over the south wall. The rumble of an explosion shook the city as flames shot up from buildings a few streets away. Brock reached out and grabbed a man running toward the citadel.
“What’s happening? Why’s everyone running?” Brock yelled.
The man turned to Brock, his eyes frightened. “The city is under attack by monsters! This is the end of days!”
Backing away from Brock, the man turned and ran toward the building. Brock glanced back at the others. From the looks on their faces, they heard what the man said.
With a new sense of urgency, Brock ran down the steps and led them across the plaza toward the gates. As he drew close, he found guards urgently pushing people back as the gates began to close. Brock squeezed past the guards and through the frantic mob as it drew closed. Once outside, he grabbed the thick iron bars and the gate came to a halt, causing the two guards who were cranking it to cry out in pain. As Brock held the gate with his Chaos-charged strength, a guard grabbed his shirt and tried to push him away. With a flick of his wrist, Brock tossed the guard into two others who were trying to hold the mob back.
Cam and Lars pushed their way through the oncoming crowd, cutting a path for the others to follow. Once his companions were clear, Brock released the gate and followed their trail as they fought their way through the terrified populace.
CHAPTER 38
Finding that his father wasn’t home when they arrived, Parker assumed that the man was at the citadel and would remain there with the Archon until the attackers destroyed the city. Realizing that he’d likely never see the man again, Parker found that he didn’t care. They had never been close, but his father’s act of betrayal had severed the last strings to Parker’s heart.
Agatha and Pinkus were another story. The cook and butler had been part of the household for decades and felt more like parents to Parker than his father ever had. He urged them to leave the city, but both were adamant that they would remain with the house. As long as the house survived, they would survive. While his companions gathered their things, Parker said some very painful goodbyes. He led the others out into the stable yard, wiping the tears from his eyes under the cover of night. With the impending deaths of Pinkus and Agatha, he was losing the only family he’d ever known.
Niles waited anxiously, the horses appeared ready to go.
“I’d like to go with you, Master Parker. That is, if you’ll have me,” the boy said, wringing his hands.
Another explosion lit the night sky, causing everyone to glance toward the thunderous sound.
Parker turned back to Niles. “Of course you can join us, Niles.”
Parker mounted his horse, reaching a hand down toward Niles.
“Grab my hand and get on,” Parker said. “You can ride with me.”
The boy nodded, grabbing Parker’s hand and climbing up to sit behind him.
With everyone mounted and ready, Parker kicked his horse and led them down the quiet alley. When they reached the street, people were running in every direction. Hysteria had taken ahold of the populace, reducing them to mindless drones running in fright. The basic human need to survive had erased any thoughts of compassion as the mob trampled over anyone who had the misfortune of falling.
Parker and Puri led the others down the street as the horses forced the mob to part. When they reached eastern wall, they found the gate still open. Following the throng of people pouring out the gate, they rode down the street toward the pier where Star Dancer had moored.
“Look. She’s still here!” Benny pointed toward the ship, still in its mooring.
With Parker and Puri leading, the group rode their horses onto the pier, parting the mob of those who hoped to escape the city aboard a ship. When they approached the end of the pier, Parker noticed the crewmembers of Star Dancer were using poles to keep the crowd from climbing the lines tied to the ship.
“Ho, Star Dancer!” Parker yelled. “Where’s Captain Sinclair?”
A sailor called back. “He’s coming up behind you!”
Parker turned to see the man’s bright red vest trailing the last horse in their group. As the man stumbled past the horses, Parker called out to him.
“Yo, Sinclair! We need to get out of here. Do you have room for us?”
Sinclair stopped, swaying as if on the seas, his eyes at half-mast. A smile lit up on the drunk captain’s face.
“Well met, Master Thanes! Thanks for parting the crowd for me. I wasn’t sure if I was gonna make it back.” He waved his arm, stumbling into the horse beside him. “Of course we’ll have you. However, we have an issue with these people here. We certainly cannot take them all.”
Parker nodded. That much was obvious.
Brock dismounted and handed his staff to Tipper, still sitting upon his horse. “I’ve got this.”
Turning to the inland side of the dock, he grabbed ahold of the rail. With ease, Brock pulled the fifteen-foot long plank off the thick posts, sending splinters flying from where it broke loose. He then turned toward the throng of frightened citizens. Holding the rail across the width of the dock, he eased the crowd backward. Numerous men pushed back in an attempt to resist, but Brock continued to move them backward at an even but relentless pace, forcing a cluster of over fifty people down the dock until they were past the midpoint of the ship.
As the dock opened, the crew dropped boarding planks to the deck and to the cargo hold. Puri whistled and her white stallion led the other horses across the planks. As the horses boarded the cargo hold, Parker led the others up the other planks onto the deck. When the last horse was on board, the crew kicked the planks into the sea and closed the cargo hold doors.
Brock turned and shouted toward Parker. “Go ahead and pull the planks as soon as you’re aboard. Don’t worry about me.”
Puri was the last to board. As she crossed the planks to the deck, Parker called out.
“Okay, Brock! Let’s go!”
Brock turned and nodded to Parker as the sailors pulled the planks back onto the ship. Brock dropped the rail onto the pier, the heavy treated wood bouncing as it settled. He took a couple strides and leapt. With Brock’s strength augmented by the Power rune, he flew thirty feet up into the air, arcing high over Parker with his arms and legs swinging wildly in an attempt to rema
in upright. He landed on the ship’s deck, feet-first before tucking into a roll with the momentum.
The sailors stopped working, staring in awe at what had just occurred. Sinclair was among them. The captain closed his gaping jaw and shook his head to clear it.
“Come on, you lazy dogs! Get to work! We’ve got a ship to sail!”
As the men resumed prepping the ship, Sinclair turned back to Parker as he straightened his hat. “I know I’ve been drinking, but I’m not that drunk. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He shook his head in wonder. “You are an interesting group. I hope it’s lucky. We could use some luck right...”
Sinclair stopped mid-speech as he stared toward land. Parker turned toward the city, his eyes searching for what had caught the man’s attention.
“Issal’s breath,” he muttered at the sight before him.
Parker could see dark forms flowing through the streets that lay between the docks and the city wall. High-pitched screams carried across the bay as enemy attackers tore through the crowd. He watched in horror as the attackers began pouring through the open gate into the city and down the docks toward the crowded pier. As the enemy reached the people on the pier, he realized that the dark shapes were huge, far larger than the people they cut down. Despite their increasing the distance from the pier, the sound of screams continued to rise. The sound gave Parker chills, making his hair stand on end. In just a few short minutes, no living people remained on the pier. Bodies lay everywhere while some had leapt into the dark waters in hopes to escape. However, how far would it get them?
Sinclair recovered enough to call the crew to their marks. The sailors quickly raised the sails, driven by a new sense of urgency. Everyone wanted to be far from the city as fast as possible. Parker looked around, finding other ships both ahead and behind theirs as they fled the city.
Glancing backward, he noticed a couple ships still tied to the pier. Incredibly tall silhouettes tore through the ships as sailors leapt into the water, abandoning the vessels. The city lit up as a fireball arced through the sky to strike a citadel tower. Parker’s father was somewhere within the complex. The building where Cedric spent so much of his life was soon to become his tomb. While Parker felt a small pang of loss for his father, he would greatly miss others who had played important roles in his life. Closing his eyes, he prayed for Issal to reward Pinkus and Agatha for being good people.
With a slight turn, the sails rippled and snapped taught when they caught the stiff breeze. The ship gained speed as it sailed toward the breakers, leaving the dying city of Sol Polis behind.
CHAPTER 39
Parker stumbled toward the quarterdeck and grabbed the rail to steady himself as the ship raised high before dropping again. The deck tilted hard to the side, forcing him to grip tightly to keep from sliding across it. Wind-driven rain pelted his face as he scaled the stairs. Hugging the rail along the quarterdeck, he shouted to Tenzi.
“What is it?”
“I don’t understand where this storm came from. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like a hurricane, but it’s far too late in the year for one,” she shouted. “I need you to get the captain from his cabin.”
Hurrying back down the stairs, Parker scrambled toward the Captain’s Cabin. He pounded on the door while clenching to the rail with is other hand. The intensity of the rain had increased steadily over the past fifteen minutes, now falling so hard, he could barely see the bow. The ship rolled again, tipping low to one side before rocking to the other. Feeling a sense of urgency, he decided that he couldn’t wait for Sinclair to answer the door. He grabbed the knob, gave it a twist, and he fell into the room when the door swung open.
The dim light of the discharged glowlamp on the wall gave shape to the room’s interior, allowing Parker to see the prone form on the floor near the bed. He knelt beside the man, rolling him over. Blood covered Sinclair’s face, from a large gash on his forehead. He checked for a pulse and confirmed that the man was still alive. Patting his cheek, Parker tried to wake him. After seeing no response, Parker scrambled out the door and into the pouring rain.
When he reached the quarterdeck, he shouted to Tenzi.
“Sinclair hit his head. He’s alive, but he’s out cold.”
She turned toward him, her face showing a blend of alarm and frustration.
“I guess it’s up to me, then.”
Tenzi shouted to a cluster of three sailors, standing just below the quarterdeck. “We have to take down the sails before the masts break! The wind’s blowing too hard!”
The men nodded and scurried in response. Two of the men ran toward the bow while the third began scaling the mizzenmast rigging. Through the driving rain, Parker watched as other sailors began to scale the two forward masts. The bow rose high again and dropped as it crested a big wave. Sea spray drenched the deck, sweeping the feet from beneath two of the sailors. They slid across the deck, wedged against the rail by the heavy flow of water.
Parker remained on the quarterdeck, hugging the rail as Tenzi maintained a firm grip on the wheel. Now soaked through and through, he felt a pang of jealousy for his companions, safe and dry in their cabins below deck.
A powerful gust of wind hit, causing the ship to heel hard to one side. A scream sounded as the sailor on the mizzenmast lost his grip and tumbled into the churning waters below. Three of the sails on the mast were still unfurled, stretching under the pressure of the heavy wind.
Tenzi turned toward Parker. “Take the wheel!”
Surprised, Parker jumped forward and grabbed the wheel.
“Just hold it steady! Don’t let it turn on you!” she yelled to him before darting toward the rigging.
With practiced ease, she scrambled up the height of the mast. Up and up she went, not halting until she reached the top. Moments later, she had the uppermost sail down before dropping to the next. One end of the upper topsail collapsed but the other appeared stuck. Tenzi climbed on the yard, balancing on it as she ran to the stuck end. Grabbing the rigging with one hand, she used the other to cut the line holding the yard in place. It dropped from under her feet, leaving her dangling from the rigging.
She shimmied down to the lower topsail, getting it lowered just before a huge gust struck the ship. Tenzi jumped for the rigging and held it tightly to keep from being tossed into the sea as the ship heeled hard. A loud cracking snap sounded, drawing Parker’s attention toward the bow. With three of its four sails still unfurled, the foremast broke away from the ship. The two men in the mast rigging fell with it, tumbling into the sea. The mast crashed down hard, smashing the rail and sending splintered wood in all directions. Some of the rigging held for a moment, causing the long wooden shaft to dangle from the ship until the next big wave hit. The bow shot high with the wave, and the last of the rigging broke free to launch the mast over the side and into the sea. A huge wave followed and another sailor washed across the deck through the section with the broken rail. Parker could faintly hear the man’s scream as he fell into the roiling sea.
Parker glanced back up as Tenzi collapsed the last sail. She shimmied down the rigging and landed on the deck next to him. He looked at the main mast, seeing its sails now down, the men now safely on the deck. While the seas were still rough, the ship seemed much more stable with the wind’s effect drastically reduced.
Tenzi scrambled over and grabbed the wheel.
“Thanks. Now we just have to ride it out and try not to run ashore.”
Parker looked out at the dark waters. With the heavy rain, he could see little other than the whitecaps surrounding the ship. He had no idea how Tenzi would be able to see anything out there. It would be a long night.
. . .
With the sails down, the heavy waves continued to toss the ship for hours. The night seemed to drag on, as if it would never end. Parker could not have been wetter if he was in the sea itself, drenched from the relentless rainfall. Eventually, the wind calmed enough to allow them to unfurl the lowest sail on both remaining masts.
He glanced toward Brock, who was returning from Sinclair’s cabin. He and Cam had joined Parker on deck to help fill-in for the five crewmembers who had been lost to the storm.
Parker asked, “Sinclair’s still out?”
Brock nodded. “Yeah. I healed him, but it he hit his head hard. I have no idea when he’ll wake.”
Parker wasn’t sure what difference it would make. Despite the horrible circumstances, Tenzi seemed to have things under control. At least, as under control as was possible.
His eyes shifted to the horizon over the port side of the ship, noticing the sky growing lighter. Parker peered hard into the murky twilight, trying to see what was beyond the immediate vicinity of the ship. Brock and Cam noticed and attempted to do the same. Parker thought he could discern shapes through the rain, but he wasn’t sure if they were real or if his eyes were tricking him. Moments later, the sky lightened further, and the dark shapes took form.
A wall of high cliffs loomed a quarter-mile away with jagged rocks poking above the raging sea between the ship and shore. Some of the rocks were mere feet from the ship.
Parker spun toward Tenzi. “Rocks!”
Tenzi turned the wheel hard to starboard as a big wave struck. The force of the wave drove the ship toward the rocks, causing the ship to lurch when the hull connected. Parker almost went over the rail, but Cam had a grip of his cloak and yanked him back. A scream sounded as another sailor slipped through the section of broken railing and disappeared into the rough sea. The deck held at a steep angle for a few moments, the hull scraping noisily on the rocks as the ship broke loose from the momentary stasis.
Parker glanced back at Tenzi, who was trying desperately to get the ship clear of the rocks. He ran across the deck and scrambled up the steps to the quarterdeck.
“What can I do?” he yelled.
The Emblem Throne (The Runes of Issalia Book 2) Page 19