The Edge of the World

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Against the wall, Siescu sat in a large chair from which he could look across his great hall. A fireplace enormous enough to

  hold an entire ox crackled with a roaring fire made from several thick logs. The enclosed chamber felt extremely hot to Aldo, but Siescu wore thick furs and covered himself with a woolen blanket. The destrar was not an old man, but his translucent skin was stretched tight across the bones of his face. His eyes were set deep in their sockets.

  Seeing Aldo, Siescu sat up straighter and removed his hands from beneath the blanket. Aldo saw that he also wore leather gloves. "You are a curious visitor. A Saedran?"

  "Yes, sir. From Calay."

  "Come closer to the warmth so that you're more comfortable." The destrar gestured to Aldo. "It always feels so cold here in the mountains."

  Until now, Aldo had not believed the stories he'd heard about this man. In one legend, Siescu had been wounded in a practice session with a fine Corag sword, and when his skin was cut, ice water ran out rather than blood. An old miner in an outlying village Aldo had visited whispered that Destrar Siescu kept ordering his men to dig tunnels deeper and deeper into the mountain, hoping to find the embers of the Earth, the dying fire of Creation, so that he could at last be warm.

  Aldo bowed formally, made his greetings, and thanked the destrar for his hospitality. "I am here to commission work from your best metalworkers."

  "Are there no metalworkers in Calay?"

  "Not Corag metalworkers. I wanted the best and most precise work done. These devices cannot tolerate even the slightest error."

  Aldo's comment elicited a proud smile from the destrar. Siescu leaned forward, and (reluctantly, it seemed) peeled off his leather gloves. He rubbed his hands together briskly. "Let us look at your drawings. I want to see this great challenge you have for my metalworkers."

  Aldo unrolled the plans and briefly explained the purpose of the navigation devices and the sealed clock. Siescu made a gruff sound. "We have made Saedran instruments before. We can do it again." He narrowed his eyes. "It will be expensive." "I have money." Aldo hoped it was enough.

  The destrar shouted four names, promising Aldo that these were the best craftsmen in the reach. The young man felt relieved and pleased. "How long will it take, do you think? " When the destrar frowned, the lines deepened on his face. "Your devices will be finished when our artisans are satisfied. You did ask for accuracy, did you not? Or are you in a hurry? Which is it?" Sen Leo had not told Aldo how soon he must return. He bowed again nervously. "I will give your people all the time they need. And while I wait, I would like to explore Corag Reach." "Oh, there is not time to see all of it. Our craftsmen are not so slow."

  Aldo was surprised that the sullen-looking destrar actually had a sense of humor. "Then, when I am not overseeing the work, I'll try to see as much as I can."

  33

  Unnamed Island

  For the first time in months, the Luminara sighted land.

  High up in the lookout nest, Criston spotted clustered clouds on the horizon that suggested a landmass. His unexpected shout startled the listless men below. The sharper-eyed members of the crew rushed to the sides and squinted into the distance. High up in the sky, someone saw a bird.

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  Within two hours, there was no doubt that a shoreline lay ahead. The conversation thrummed with speculation that this hitherto-undiscovered land could be Terravitae itself. First Mate Willin, stern and businesslike as usual, tried to keep the now excited sailors concentrating on their duties. Soon, however, it became apparent that this was merely a heavily forested island.

  Criston wondered if it was an outlying island in a whole archipelago, like Soeland, or an entirely isolated speck in the middle of the Oceansea.

  Since his mission was to explore the world, Captain Shay intended to go ashore himself. Prester Jerard would serve as a representative of Aiden to speak with any natives and learn what they knew about Ondun and his sons. The Saedran chartsman also insisted upon observing the details, so that he could mentally record the interior topography of the island.

  For more pragmatic reasons, the cook Orico asked to go ashore and acquire victuals. The Luminara still had many stores of salted meats and preserved biscuits, and they had supplemented their diet with the daily catch of fish, but fresh game, vegetables, and fruit would be a welcome addition and necessary for the health of the crew. Rainstorms had replenished the Luminara's drinking water, but the casks could certainly do with refilling from island springs. Captain Shay would take the ship's two boats ashore with several parties to hunt, forage, collect fresh water, and explore.

  The Luminara cruised along the coastline, looking for a place to anchor, but found only inlets bounded by abrupt cliffs that made the interior inaccessible. The crew spotted many rushing waterfalls, fresh streams that spilled directly into the surf. They remained alert for smoke from villages, any signs of life. Criston hoped the natives would speak Tierran, and dreaded that they might be followers of Urec.

  The Luminara sailed halfway around the island until at last, startlingly, they encountered a stark sign of human habitation: a towering stone wall, built from immense volcanic blocks. The sailors chattered amongst themselves, some superstitious, some merely puzzled. Captain Shay stared, amazed. "It must be twelve feet tall!"

  "Fourteen," Sen Nikol corrected.

  The wall reached all the way down to the waterline, where combers crashed against the rocks, and extended inland to where the lush jungle had already overgrown many of the blocks. As the ship cruised slowly past, they saw no footpaths, no break in the jungle on either side. Though the captain was deeply intrigued, he saw no place for the Luminara to put in, or where her two boats could safely reach the shore.

  "We will keep sailing, circumnavigate the island," Shay announced to First Mate Willin, who directed the crew to heel around the tip of the island and head down the windward side. But the terrain remained unchanged. Still they saw no fishing boats, no harbors, no docks. By late afternoon, they discovered the opposite end of the wall, which lay like a sash across the waistline of the island. The man-made barrier neatly cut the landmass in half--but why?

  A few miles beyond this, the Luminara finally found a natural cove with a rushing stream that tumbled down from the jungle. The sun loomed large and orange upon the horizon like an ember about to be extinguished in the sea. Night would fall swiftly, as it always did out on the ocean, and Captain Shay called for the crew to drop the fishhook anchor for the night.

  All the crew was anxious to go ashore the next morning, and Criston got little sleep. With the first light of dawn, men lowered I he two small boats over the side for the members of the exploratory teams. Criston rode with Captain Shay, accompanied by

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  170 Kevin J. Anderson

  Prester Jerard, who had combed his long gray beard and donned his best robes as Aiden's ambassador. Sen Nikol na-Fenda seemed amused and intrigued, but kept to himself on the bench.

  The cook also joined them in the boat, carrying empty cloth sacks for gathering fruits, berries, and roots, expecting a cornucopia of island delights. Four other sailors came along, armed with swords and ready to fight wild animals or suspicious natives.

  The second scout party came ashore with empty casks; they would spend the day shuttling fresh water back to the Luminara. Hunting parties with spears and crossbows would try to acquire fresh meat. Shay, though, turned his gaze inland, and Criston knew what their destination would be. The captain wanted to see the wall.

  After they put ashore and the two groups parted, Shay took the lead, pushing through the dense undergrowth in the direction of the wall, then directing the four burly sailors to clear a path with their swords. The jungle resisted their efforts, and the party made slow progress. Each man took a turn wielding a blade.

  Along the way, Captain Shay had ample opportunity to study flowers and colorful beetles, and he collected several specimens. Orico plucked mushrooms, sniffed them, but did not risk taking
the unusual species back to the Luminara's larder. He found a bush filled with bright purple berries, tasted one, and spat it out. "It's either poison, or it's so bitter it may as well be." The cook did, however, find a tree laden with bright orange fruit. When he peeled the thick rind and bit into the juicy pulp, he pronounced the fruit good to eat. Criston and the others filled their bags with the harvest and foraged on.

  They saw the first skeleton when they were less than an hour from the wall.

  Picked clean of flesh, the bones lay like a collection of ivory pieces in the undergrowth. Oddly, though, the rib cage was

  not entangled with weeds and vines, as if someone had recently dumped the skeleton there. The bones still wore a kind of leather uniform studded with tarnished metal bossets. The armor was nicked and scraped, as though the skeletal soldier had seen many great battles. The skull's empty eye sockets stared upward, its teeth green with a dusting of moss. The rusty sword in its bony fingers had been notched many times.

  Criston bent down to pick up the sword, but the skeleton would not release its grip. "It looks ancient. How did it get here?" Nobody could offer him an explanation.

  Prester Jerard muttered a quick prayer, and they pressed on until they reached the wall, where great blocks of chiseled volcanic rock towered higher than any person could scale. At the base of the barrier, the jungle undergrowth was packed and trampled.

  And the ground was strewn with hundreds of additional skeletons. Each one carried a sword and each wore the same foreign looking armor.

  "There must have been a great battle," Captain Shay said. "But who, or what, were they fighting?"

  Complex friezes and hieroglyphics adorned the blocks, but the written language was not comprehensible to either Prester Jerard or Sen Nikol; neither saw any resemblance to known languages. The prester shook his head. "These were not carved by children of either Aiden or Urec."

  "Or Saedrans," the chartsman added.

  They had spent most of the day fighting through the vegetation, and now it was late afternoon. Because the captain wanted lo poke further into the mystery of the inhabitants, he suggested I hat they make camp and spend the night. They chose a spot not far from the wall, away from the fallen skeletons.

  Two of the sailors joined them at their camp, having shot a large bird similar to a turkey, much to the cook's delight. Orico

  built a fire and began plucking feathers, preparing to roast the bird for dinner.

  As the sun sank toward the horizon and a nearly full moon began to climb the eastern sky, a breeze rustled the jungle foliage. Several strange birds set up a raucous din and winged away from the wall, leaving the area shrouded in eerie silence. In such a lush jungle, Griston thought, the night should have been alive with buzzing insects.

  Weary from the day's efforts, the men settled down to rest. When Orico pronounced the bird roasted and ready, Prester Jerard intoned a quick prayer, the Saedran chartsman muttered his own blessing, and they all sat together to eat. The moon grew bright as the sky deepened to indigo. A few silver stars began to sparkle overhead.

  A faint clatter came from the shadows of the ancient battlefield. Criston heard the scrape of a rusty blade, a hollow sound of bones clacking, hard leather armor shifting over dry bones. The skeleton warriors came alive.

  The sailors cried out, jumping to their feet. Prester Jerard grasped his fishhook pendant. "What sort of magic is this?"

  Captain Shay commanded them all to silence. "Watch yourselves, and be on your guard! Look!" He pointed toward the skeleton warriors, and Griston calmed himself long enough to notice that the corpse-soldiers were not preparing to attack them. In fact, the skeletons paid no attention to the newcomers at all.

  Instead, they lifted swords, adjusted shields and body armor, and formed ranks facing the wall, blank eye sockets staring toward the top of the barrier. Mandibles clacked open and shut in a silent shout of defiance, a challenge that was impossible to hear because the long-dead warriors had no vocal cords, no breath.

  "What are they waiting for?" Criston whispered.

  With a bizarre and frightening clatter, another group of skeletal warriors scrambled up the wall from the opposite side and stood on the top, waving their own swords and shields. The new wave of warriors wore a different style of armor and had different markings on their shields--obviously an opposing army.

  The bony fighters leaped from the high barrier upon the first group, and with a great clamor, swords and shields crashed together. Skulls were lopped off of vertebrae, arm bones severed. Criston could hear the loud crack of bones--but no other sound.

  Prester Jerard swallowed hard. "They must have built the wall to separate themselves, but that did not stop them from fighting."

  "But if they're all dead--" Criston started.

  "Their bodies may be dead, but their hatred is not," Captain Shay said.

  The Saedran considered for a moment, then made a dry pronouncement. "This is fascinating. We saw no other settlements on this island. Their civilization must be extinct--yet they still fight."

  I "I don't think we should be here," muttered Orico. "This isn't our war. We don't want any part of it."

  "I believe you're right," the captain said. "Why is it that a cook should have to state the obvious? Let's go, quickly! If they notice us, they may decide to fight anyone who gets in the way."

  They abandoned the rest of the roasted bird, and Criston kicked dirt and ashes over the fire. Then they ran, stumbling through the underbrush by the light of the bright moon. Though the shadows were deeper and they tripped often, they still made better time now that a path had already been cut through the jungle.

  Before long, they came upon the first skeleton warrior they had found, all alone, far out in the jungle. As the moonlight filtered through the thick canopy, the ancient soldier also rose up

  and lifted its notched sword. Orico was in the lead, pushing his way forward at a fast run. When he came upon the warrior, startled, the undead soldier thrust its notched and rusty sword deep into the cook's belly.

  Orico's momentum drove the blade in to the hilt. He fell forward, knocking the flimsy skeleton to the ground. Criston and Jerard cried out and rolled Orico away. The skeleton pulled the blood-slick sword from the cook's belly and clambered to its feet to fight again. But before it could regain its tottering balance, Criston knocked it to the ground once more and, without thinking, delivered a sharp kick to the skull, knocking it loose from the spine, so that it flew off into the weeds. The two sailors behind him fell upon the rest of the skeleton with their swords, smashing ribs and hacking the arm bones.

  Prester Jerard and the Saedran knelt over the moaning cook and studied the wound. Sen Nikol shook his head. "We take him with us regardless," Captain Shay commanded. "Get him up and drag him along. We've got to get back to the boats."

  Orico was in extraordinary pain and bleeding profusely. None of the men spoke. Criston threw one of the cook's meaty arms over his shoulder and another sailor took the other arm. Together, they stumbled onward. The journey seemed endless.

  By the time they reached the cove, the second exploratory group had returned to shore and built a large bonfire while waiting for the captain and his party. When they spotted Criston and the other sailor hauling the blood-covered cook, they held torches high and set up an alarm. Orico's legs barely moved now, and he had stopped moaning, but still clung to his last few breaths of life.

  "Into the boats!" Captain Shay shouted. "We have to leave this island, now!"

  Already spooked by the quiet and mysterious island, the sail-

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  ors rushed to obey the captain's order without asking questions. Criston and his companion lifted the cook into the nearest boat and settled him, while Sen Nikol and Prester Jerard jumped aboard. The others, just as eager to be away from the strange island, pushed the boat into the deeper water as soon as the captain stepped aboard. Scrambling in, they took up the oars and plied them with all their strength. The second boat was alre
ady making its way toward where the Luminara lay anchored, peacefully unaware of what had happened.

  Criston realized that the cook would be dead before they reached the ship, but the sailors grimly pulled at the oars. The dark silhouette of the macabre island was ominous and weirdly silent behind them.

  Orico twitched, spasmed, coughed once. His last breath came out in a long gurgling rattle. Prester Jerard clutched the fishhook pendant and said a quiet prayer. The captain sat astern, like a statue. Orico was the first crewman they had lost on their long voyage.

  "Keep moving," Shay said.

  In the moonlight, they could see the stark line of the barrier wall, like the backbone of a gigantic fossil draped across the island. Though it might have been his imagination, Criston thought he could see the skeletons scuttling about, still fighting. He felt safer with every oar stroke that drew them farther from the cursed island.

  Sen Nikol let out a yelp of surprise, an uncontrolled reaction that startled Criston. Though the cook was drenched in blood and his body had lain motionless in death, he now jerked and twitched. His elbows bent, and both hands rose up as if to flail at i m aginary enemies.

  "He's alive!" Criston said. "Captain--Orico is alive!"

  But the cook's hemorrhaged eyes were blank. Thick dark

  blood still oozed from the wound in his stomach. The dead man sat up and grasped the gunwale with one hand.

  Prester Jerard blessed himself. "He was dead. I'm sure of it!"

  "He still is," Sen Nikol mumbled. "The island calls him."

  Criston tried to pull Orico back down; one of the sailors released his oar and grabbed the cook's other arm, but Orico shook them off with inhuman strength, pulled himself to his knees and then to his feet, nearly capsizing the boat. "What is he doing? Stop him!"

  But the dead man did not hear them. He saw nothing but the island, and the wall, and the skeleton armies there. He threw himself over the side of the boat with a great splash. Criston shouted after him. Orico bobbed to the surface again and began to swim, making his way back to the strange shore, mindlessly determined. With the oars stilled, the boat drifted and the men sat in uneasy silence, terrified and not sure what to do. Criston felt the sticky blood on his hands and clothes. Shay clenched and unclenched his fists, staring into the water. "The island has him now." "It's not the island that has him," Sen Nikol corrected. "It's the war. He is part of that endless battle now. He will never rest."