King Tides Curse

by C J Timms

  An acidic taste lingered in his mouth, and the early morning heat was already baking him. Water, he thought. Probably food and shelter too. Everything else after that.

  Gale started walking. Narrow streets were scattered with saltbush, a sprawling grey-blue shrub. He began to pass people in an early morning light, clearly not the dusk he had left behind. The fashion was an eclectic mix of clothing. Some wore loose-fitting full-body clothing designed to cover them up from the sun’s. Others wore singlets and stubby shorts with thongs to try to escape the heat. Still others wore business suits more in tune with the 1920s. He bumped into one, and the suit radiated cold. The man in the suit brushed off his arm and gave Gale the stink eye.

  Questions, Gale had nothing but questions. Gale hesitated from approaching anyone. An ignorant tourist is an easy mark for pickpockets and swindlers. He’d learned that on camp in Thailand. So he walked, watched and listened. Not enough people watched and listened.

  He stopped in the middle of the road and cursed. The whole university had collapsed. His medical school was toast before he even turned up.

  He punched a wall and pain erupted in his hand. He shook his hand out and looked upward to the sky. Someone up there really had it out for him.

  ‘Come and repent, all may be purified by Canute’s holy word,’ cried a voice.

  Gale shrugged and followed the voice. He emerged from the alleyway into a vast open market that bustled with people. A heavily tattooed monk preached in front of a building that curved with multiple sail-like projections. The building was like a cross between an ancient galleon, the Sydney Opera house and a water treatment plant. Billowing polymer sails were held above dams of water and wood and stone buildings.

  ‘The Membranous Cathedral,’ read the sign.

  Gale smelled fresh bread, and his stomach rumbled. He walked towards the Cathedral. A preacher was whipping the crowd into a fervour.

  ‘And so did Canute martyr himself upon the shore. Giving his life to turn back the tide, to stop the Worldflood. Then he ascended, leaving nine noble knights to hold man’s trust.’

  ‘Noble does not rust,’ murmured the crowd in unison.

  ‘And now it is my great pleasure to invite to the stage a dear friend of the church and a true visionary. Please welcome, Lady Jacqui Tangerinous.’

  Trumpets played, and lights flared. A black-haired woman of mixed Caucasian and Korean ancestry in full plate armour took the stage. She shined in the sunlight. Epaulettes rose from her shoulders, and a red cape swept down behind her. Her armour, much like her, was magnificent.

  ‘Thankyou brother Bastian and may faith hold back the tide.’ Tangerinous said. Brother Bastian’s simple brown robe was a stark contrast, blotted out by Tangerinous’s shimmer.

  ‘Faith holds the tide.’ The crowd uttered back solemnly.

  ‘As the good people of Ionhome know, I have always worked to advance our city. Who was it who fought to hold back Addison’s fleet when we were besieged?’

  ‘You did!’ said the crowd.

  ‘When the people thirsted, surrounded by water, who built the new desalination harbour for the membranous cathedral?”

  ‘Tangerinous!’ Roared the crowd.

  ‘And now…’ Tangerinous paused, holding one hand in the air. ‘I have found the hidden meaning in Canute’s holy texts. I will bring Canute’s holy word to the whole realm once more. Ionhome’s reefwall, Canute’s barrier-reef, has kept us safe for many years. By Canute’s divine grace, I have seen a vision of how we shall spread his message across the seas.

  We shall reclaim the oceans and bring the word to the lost. We shall bring our wandering sisters and brothers back into the fold, into Canute’s loving embrace.

  Even now my nine Titans sit above us, watching over the land, being prepared for the voyage, nay the odyssey, that shall come when they are completed. With the new Saltdrive we can…’

  A rotting apple flew from the crowd, and Tangerinous cut it from the air with a shimmering blade of energy. Where had she pulled that from? What was that?

  ‘Salt is the tool of the Devil.’ Called a crotchety old voice.

  ‘Seize the dickhead who did that. This is new season Tara Crux activewear.’ Tangerinous yelled, her voice shifting. She slammed a fist on the podium then her eyes flicked off stage to a…pram?

  Multiple figures in dark cloaks moved through the crowd apprehending the offender. The dark-cloaked figures dragged an old lady to the front.

  ‘Gran,’ Brother Bastian called out, running up to the old lady. ‘Can you put her down? She’s my grandmother.’ He asked.

  Tangerinous waved her hand, and the figures left. The old crone stuck her hand up at Tangerinous clutching a holy book. ‘When the Salt comes, Corrosyv is near. No good shall come of meddling with Salt. You and your precious Titans will sink us all.’

  Bastian awkwardly dragged his grandmother away from Tangerinous. Tangerinous brushed some apple slop off her coat, licking her thumb and rubbing at the stain. With a sigh, she cleared her throat.

  ‘Ah, now where were we…my Titans!’ She roared.

  She threw her hands up to the air, and Gale strained his head upwards. From this angle, he was just staring into one of two suns, but if he squinted, he made out a large silhouette floating high above.

  Tangerinous wrapped the sermon up, the masses formed into line for food. Gale joined them, the wafted smell of fresh bread intoxicating. Near the front, Gale tripped and jostled the man in front of him. The mans hood was knocked askew, and Gale caught a glimpse of scales underneath the hood. The man hissed back at him.

  ‘Rack off Scaled...there is no redemption for your kind here.’ Said one of the monks serving food. They rapped a wooden spoon on the counter.

  The Scaled swung his head back to the monk and bowed his head, shoulders slumped. Then he began to trudge away.

  ‘Now brother Dominic, all are welcome to hear Canute’s words.’ Bastian, the monk who had been giving the sermon, offering a stern but somehow kind smile. ‘Please my friend.’

  Bastian offered the bread roll to the Scaled before moving on down the line. The Scaled snatched it up, sniffed it, then tore it apart under his hood. As the Scaled walked away, Dominic cursed under his breath.

  Gale stepped up to brother Dominic who now had a foul expression. He held out a roll and water canister but paused. The monks eyes flicked over Gale, then widened.

  ‘Trenchwalker. Piss off.’ He gestured to two guards to the side. Gale looked hopefully for Bastian, but the monk was engaged in a conversation with Tangerinous. Tangerinous had ditched the plate armour for a bright fluro green top and was being given back what was definitely a pram? Two guards pushed Gale away, and he lost sight of them. Gale shook off the hands of the two guards. He was not at the point of stealing bread from a church.

  What was a ‘Trenchwalker’, what did it have to do with the attack that sent him here. Too many questions and no answers.

  Gale snagged a tourist brochure from a nearby stall which included a map. He walked over to a close-by bell tower, hoping to get some height to survey his surroundings. Gale climbed the stairs to the top of the tower in solitude. Alone at the top, he gazed out on the city, uncertain where to start. He pulled out the brochure and began reading.

  ‘Welcome to Ionhome, the oasis of the desert.

  While you are here sample many of our wares, shop at the Infinity Bazaar or take mass at the Membranous Cathedral. For the adventurous, why not take a flight over Ionhome University? See where we produce some of the finest fracturesmiths for the College. Relax, for inside the reefwall, faith holds back the tide.’

  ‘Find the university…become a fracturesmith.’ Gale said and held up the pager to the light. The pager was a simple black box with a blue screen, empty of detail. He hadn’t even gotten the name of that Professor. He was looking for a man in his late forties. Maybe he could sketch out the face? He tried to recall the face, but his memories shifted, fog creeping in. Had the travel through the
fracture affected his mind?

  ‘Find the university, become a fracturesmith, stop the Worldflood.’

  That Professor was his only lead to the truth about his parents. The only lead to the truth about his mothers murder and his fathers disappearance. The answers to why a muppet show of monsters were trying to hunt him down. To why someone had levelled the university he’d worked his arse off for, that he’d scraped grease for, been ranted at by customers for and dealt with Greg on a daily basis for. He’d worked freaking unpaid overtime, didn’t he deserve his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?

  Then there was the Rust Knight.

  He shivered.

  Gale scanned the map to match it with his view from the tower. The city was dominated by a shining golden tower which rose from its centre. The tower spread out into multiple smaller limbs off the main stem, reminiscent of a date palm. The sheer size of it allowed much of the city to be shaded, even with two suns. At the very top was a breathtaking clear dome the size of a football stadium. The dome was lush with plant life and even its own clouds, a giant terrarium. A broad platform of glass and funnels beneath the dome created a cooling breeze within the city.

  With the suns at a different angle, he could now see the Titans. Docked around the golden tower were hovering airships. They ranged in size from tiny skiffs to pleasure yachts to aircraft carriers. Hewn of wood and steel, they were reminiscent of old whaling ships.

  The city was built on a massive island that was surrounded by a wall of light. At least half a kilometre out to sea, giant towers rose out of the harbour. The towers were giant statues of men holding both hands outstretched to push back against the waves. The hands of the icons shot out a great light, like a lighthouse. There was a ring of nine statues of an ancient king which surrounded the island and the light from them wove together a barrier like a coral reef. They formed a reefwall of light that encircled the island.

  The wall of light was a massive coral structure, interlaced light in thick pillars. Occasional sparks of light flitted in and amongst the coral structure, like tropical fish in a reef. The barrier stretched overhead to form a transparent dome, thinner and allowing full view of the sky. It radiated calm perfection.

  ‘The reefwall’ he read from the brochure.

  Above each of the towers, a battleship was under construction. Giant floating platforms surrounded the airships, and workers appeared like insects swarming around each assembling them. These battleships shone compared to the ones parked within the city, more armoured and with giant cannons. They were easily ten times as big as the older warships which were more the size of ancient galleons. The newer ones were closer in size to modern battleships.

  ‘The Titans.’ Gale muttered remembering the speech at the Cathedral.

  They were more like aircraft carriers, more metal than wood. Scaffolding surrounded them, workers still building. These must be the Titans.

  The Titans were the only ships that didn’t have rotating, glowing orbs of energy at their rear deck. Was that what kept the ships aloft? Why construct them in the air, not on the ground? A small fleet of vessels was required to keep each of the Titans aloft, madness.

  Despite the reefwall, patches of the harbour were wreathed in fog. Gale stared at one large fog bank, and something massive moved within it, its shape indecipherable, easily as tall as the Sydney harbour bridge.

  The ocean flowed right up to the Membranous Cathedral which projected into the water while the rest of Ionhome was locked away behind walls made of living trees, somehow thriving in a bone-dry desert. The Membranous Cathedral was a mass of billowing polymer sails and water pumping through intricate, spiralling clear glass pipe works, like a mad scientists laboratory from a cartoon.

  To the north of the membranous Cathedral, within the city walls, a vast oasis emerged, seeming to have passed through the Cathedral and emerging looking…cleaner. A desalination plant perhaps? Or a water treatment plant?

  The whole city was walled off with great stone blocks. To the West, North and East stretched dry desert terrain out beyond the town until it met shoreline.

  To the north, just beyond the barrier, he could see a smaller island with what looked like a massive open-cut mine. Something shifted in the dunes. Something burrowing beneath? There was no evidence of electricity cables nor anything like a cell tower. His phone still had no reception.

  Gale whistled to himself in appreciation, the whole thing felt like something out of a TV show. He was reminded of the Australian nineties classic ‘Round the Twist’.

  ‘Have you ever, ever felt like this,’ he muttered. ‘How strange things happen, are you going round the twist.’

  He had no food on him, but he did have his wallet and some banknotes if he could find somewhere to exchange them. Someone must be around to transfer money. Someone was always around to make money off the exchange of foreign currency.

  He counted his meagre resources and thought back to the fight. Thought back to what he’d done to that beast. He tried to conjure water, to summon the wicked harpoon. Nothing happened. He sighed, that would have been too much to hope for.

  Well, Gale thought, time to do what any true adventurer would do.

  Brave new quest.

  No Internet.

  Time to visit the library.

  Gale poured over books in the Ionhome library. Rows of gorgeous timber desks wove between towering shelves in a grand hall. A hulking attendant, who might have had giant blood in him, roamed the aisles with a club the size of a man's leg shushing people. The Ionhome library was blissful quiet house of learning. Gale stretched out and got comfortable with a good book.

  This was a parallel world called Ionrealm, one of many alternate realities that existed side by side with Earth.

  Something called the Penumbra appeared at fractures between the realities. A blue fog that affected the memory, it kept people on Earth ignorant of the existence of other worlds. The Penumbra didn’t seem to affect people with magic. Magic was referred to as a corona that surrounded someone, a ‘life script’ or a ‘life story’. It was often just shortened to ‘Script’. Magic seemed to be commonplace throughout the different realms, and only Earth seemed devoid of it.

  This city, Ionhome, was the capital of Ionrealm. Ionrealm was a whole world of people who thought salt was heretical. They’d never learned to use salt to preserve meat so they’d remained nomadic for much longer than their counterparts on Earth, relying on seasonal food sources. That had lead to significant differences in technology and instead had adapt the realms innate magic to explore alternative solutions.

  Much of their religion and culture was built around the demonisation of salt and the ocean. It made sense in a way, to a people where fresh water was more valuable than gold, salt was a contaminant. Instead of hell being a fiery inferno, they believed it lay at the bottom of the deepest ocean abyss. In one of the children’s books, there was a comical picture of a demon at the bottom layer of the abyss holding a trident rather than a pitchfork.

  They called Hell ‘the Deep’. An oceanic trench, where the demons lurked, the fathomless. Gale recognised the cold blue-eyed demons instantly from the attack. He found nothing about the Rust Knight.

  In contrast to Earth mythology, where salt was often thought to ward off ghosts or evil, here it was nearly universally despised. He pulled over a book on ship construction. Then they discovered the Salt Drive. A way of powering their airships, a way of traversing the world without braving the seas. Now Salt was more like uranium, radioactive, no one wanted it in their backyard, but they did want it.

  They kept using the word Salt with capitals, to emphasise the difference to regular table salt. Salt vs salt, magical powder vs condiment. Salt to make an airship fly, salt to give your chips flavour.

  What was truly amazing was that some bright spark had worked out how to use Salt, capital S, which was only found in Ionhome to make the massive airships run. Those floating battleships were used for inter-reality travel. They were pow
ered by the Salt mined exclusively in Ionhome. Salt mined in Ionhome had specific properties that were not found in the other realities, including Earth.

  A central theme throughout the books was the world fractures and the people who fixed them, the fracturesmiths. If you wanted to become a fracturesmith and learn how to use the Script that surrounded you like a light, visible only to those trained in it, you needed to go to study at a University. Then after you graduated from a University, you had to apply to be accepted into ‘The College.’

  Gale opened up the tourist brochure and started making notes. He also checked out a book that was supposed gospel for any university candidate ‘Spur’s Primer for fracturesmith’s 1st Edition’. All the 2nd edition books had been checked out. This was a first printing, a real wordy textbook without any pictures.

  He tucked it next to his Tony Robbins book. A small smudge of dried blood on the cover. He probably should get his wounds cleaned, and his joints checked. Was there an x-ray in this place?

  He approached the librarian. The rail-thin man looked down at him over his overly large glasses. His ears were pointed. Gale’s eyes flicked back to the man’s face before he could notice. ‘Pardon me, good sir, might I trouble you for directions to the nearest hospital.’

  The librarian’s lip turned up, and he rolled his eyes. ‘Doctor, you want to see a doctor?’

  ‘Well it doesn’t have to be a hospital, where’s the nearest GP?’ Gale said.

  The librarian stared at him very long and hard. ‘What, too good to fix it yourself?’

  Gale looked side to side. ‘Look I can get directions from someone else.’

  ‘You have that horrid Script, why don’t you use it. Few enough of you bludgers around and you want someone else to heal you.’

  The librarian turned back to his book.

  Gale held up his grazed hands. He stared hard at the cut and really focused, like really stared at it. He felt something wriggling in his core, slippery like an eel. He pushed it towards the cut, and it flowed down his limb. The cut healed over, the wound edges stitching themselves neatly into place.