Gates of Ruin (Magelands Eternal Siege, #6)

by Christopher Mitchell

  Chapter 23

  Deep Water

  O ff Alea Tanton, Tordue, Western Khatanax – 3rd Kolinch 5252

  ‘Do you see the coastline on the horizon?’ said Van.

  Corthie nodded. ‘Aye.’

  ‘Follow it from left to right until you reach the square-looking bump sticking up into the sky. It doesn’t look like much from here, but that’s Old Alea. It’s surrounded by high cliffs, and ringed with a wall, and measures six miles by four miles.’

  ‘That’s a lot of space for a handful of gods.’

  ‘Yes, but there are thousands of mortals up there too – servants, guards, porters and a whole range of craft-workers: smiths, carpenters, you name it. Right now, there will also be a garrison of Banner soldiers; a few thousand or so.’

  ‘What about the smoke to the left of Old Alea? Where’s that coming from?’

  Van shrugged. ‘Not sure. Probably a riot; there are many of those. The entire city stretches for nearly thirty miles from end-to-end. Most of it consists of slums and shanty settlements, based around three centres, one for each of the three peoples who live there. Each third has, at its heart, their team’s fighting pits and arenas. We’ll have to get from the port at Old Tanton, and cross twenty miles of those slums to reach Old Alea. We’ll take a wagon.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘And then we’ll reach the city fortress at the base of Old Alea, where the road snakes up the cliffside. If we get past that, we’ll come to the gatehouse in the walls of Old Alea itself. It was built to withstand a long siege, and we’re going to have problems breaking through.’

  Corthie leaned on the ship railing. ‘We have no chance, do we?’

  ‘Naxor would have been handy.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I guess it depends on Belinda,’ Van said, after a while. ‘If she’s prepared to help us, then anything’s possible. Presuming she hasn’t been arrested or killed, of course. We won’t be able to wait; we’ll have to act immediately. Every sailor on board this ship has seen you, and word will spread from the moment we arrive.’

  ‘We’ll have to be careful when we dock,’ said Corthie. ‘They may try to keep us on board while someone summons the local militia.’

  ‘We’ll charge right past them if we have to.’ He gazed down at the water. ‘This is insanity. The entire Banner of the Golden Fist couldn’t achieve what we’re about to attempt.’

  Corthie glanced at him. ‘You’ll make it out alive.’

  ‘Yeah? Ha. I admire your optimism.’

  ‘Kelsey saw you in a vision that hasn’t happened yet.’

  ‘Oh, that? Well, it’s something to cling onto, I suppose. Either that, or a couple of uncanny coincidences a few years ago persuaded you all that she could tell the future.’

  ‘You still doubt it?’

  ‘Of course I do. I may be many things, but gullible is not one of them. I need to see evidence of these sorts of claims before I’ll believe them.’

  ‘Fair enough. I believe it, because I’ve seen it work. Not from Kelsey, but from Karalyn. Every single vision she had came true, and after a while you just accept it. If I hadn’t seen it, I’d probably be like you.’

  ‘Sable can’t do it, can she?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but I know hardly anything about her, other than what Kelsey and Belinda have told me. One has a tendency to exaggerate, while the other loathes Sable. You know more about her than I do.’

  ‘The only times I saw her was when she was pretending to be a servant. She made excellent coffee, and you always felt at ease in her company. It was only later I realised that she had been playing my mind like a fiddle.’

  They stood and watched as the coast drew ever closer. They were behind schedule; the captain’s original estimation had placed their arrival at dawn that day, and already the sun was beginning to lower in the western sky.

  ‘What are you going to do if we win?’ said Corthie.

  ‘I still need to find your sister.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘No idea. I can’t go back to Implacatus; I’d be executed for treason. I don’t want to stay on Lostwell either; the whole place gives off a feeling of unease. It’s not as bad as Dragon Eyre, but nowhere’s as bad as Dragon Eyre. Lostwell feels more like it’s sick, dying from a terminal illness. What about you?’

  ‘I’m going home as soon as I find Aila. Whatever else happens in Old Alea, I’ll need to get a Quadrant.’

  ‘And then learn how to use it.’

  Corthie smiled. ‘Aye. How difficult can it be? Maddie used one without much training.’

  Silva appeared on deck beside them, her eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and fear.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ said Van. ‘Did you have a late lunch?’

  ‘I haven’t eaten,’ she said. ‘Her Majesty has been in contact.’

  ‘Aye?’ said Corthie. ‘Thank Pyre for that. Is she alright? What happened to her?’

  ‘She wouldn’t say; it was a brief message, and the content was dire.’

  The two men glanced at each other.

  Silva lowered her voice. ‘The Second Ascendant is here.’

  Van staggered, his eyes wide. ‘No.’

  ‘Yes. And, he has Lord Bastion with him. They came to see what the delay was with the Sextant, but, more importantly, they came to see her Majesty. They want to know if she is truly loyal to them. She is in grave danger, but all of us are; every person on Lostwell is doomed.’

  Corthie frowned. ‘How can that be? Every person?’

  ‘The Second Ascendant has done something. Her Majesty said he placed his hand onto the bedrock of Old Alea, and then announced that all life on Lostwell will end by sunset tomorrow.’

  Van closed his eyes and swayed, as if something had struck him.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Corthie; ‘how could life end? What can he do?’

  ‘It has already been done, Corthie. I could sense the powers being used, not long before her Majesty contacted me. A vast sweep of flow and stone powers, reaching deep under the oceans into the rock that underpins the continents of this world.’ She glanced at the horizon. ‘There is every chance that this ship will never dock at Old Tanton.’

  Corthie followed her gaze but could see nothing different. The sea looked calm, and there was no sign that world might be ending. He turned back to Van, whose eyes were still closed.

  ‘Hey, wake up. What are we going to do?’

  Van gave a grim laugh as he opened his eyes. ‘Nothing. There is nothing we can do. It’s over. By this time tomorrow…’

  ‘Is there a chance you’re both slightly over-egging this?’ said Corthie. ‘Everything looks the same.’

  ‘Lord Edmond’s powers go beyond anything you could imagine,’ said Silva. ‘Things still look normal, for the moment, but a chain reaction has been put in place, one which is irreversible. Khatanax will be consumed.’

  ‘But all life will die? I can’t believe that.’

  ‘Fine, Corthie; not all life will die by sunset tomorrow. There will no doubt be a few species of fish, insect or bird that may survive for a little longer, but the surface of Lostwell is about to be scoured clean.’

  Van glanced towards the horizon, where the coastline of Alea Tanton was becoming clearer. ‘We’re not going to make it to shore, are we?’

  Silva gave a sad smile. ‘That would seem unlikely, Van. At least her Majesty is alive. She will be saved, as the Second Ascendant will take her back to Implacatus before the end.’

  ‘Then forget revenge; forget our plan,’ said Corthie. ‘We need a Quadrant, and there are Quadrants in Old Alea.’

  Van pointed. ‘Look at the beach. It’s supposed to be high tide, but the water’s been pulled back.’

  Corthie squinted into the horizon. A long, wide stretch of debris-strewn sand was visible right along the coast where the ocean met the city.

  ‘What’s going to happen?’ he said. ‘Should we warn the sailors? Where’s Sohul?’ He glanced at
Van, but the former mercenary was still staring at the coast. ‘Van, snap out of it. Forget about tomorrow - how do we survive the next hour?’

  A scream came from the rear of the ship, and they all turned. Corthie’s mouth dried up as he gazed at the view to the west. A wall of water was approaching, the roar from it slowly building. It stretched for mile after mile, and was sweeping towards the coast, a hundred feet high, towering over the top of the ship’s twin masts. It was moving at speed, far faster than the ship was sailing, and the gap between them was diminishing with every second that passed.

  ‘There’s no time,’ Silva said. She dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together as if praying.

  Van’s hands went to his waist. ‘Unbuckle your belts,’ he said, ‘then strap yourselves to the railing. Quickly.’

  Corthie stared at him as the roar increased. It began to drown out the cries of the panicking sailors until it was the only noise he could hear. Van looped his belt round the wooden beam of the ship’s side railing and wound it round his arm. Corthie undid his own belt, his fingers fumbling with the buckle as he tried to ignore the wall of water. The keel of the boat began to judder, then it lifted, the stern high, the bow low, and sailors began falling and skidding down the deck. Corthie strapped his left arm to the railing and hugged the wooden beam, his feet slipping as the gradient of the deck steepened. The hull was still rising, as if an invisible hand was pushing it up. Corthie reached out to grab Silva, but she tumbled away from him, falling towards the bow, along with sailors, crates, and anything that hadn’t been secured to the deck. The masts buckled under the pressure, and then they snapped in two, the rigging and sails twisting and tangling over the deck.

  Then the wall of water hit them with a deafening crash, and they were engulfed. Corthie clung onto the wooden beam with all his strength, his eyes closed tight as the ocean swallowed them up. Something heavy struck his back, and his legs were lifted off the deck. He held his breath, his head tucked down by the railing, his arms in agony from gripping the beam. Water surrounded him, cold and dark, then the hull of the ship burst through the top of the wave, and he felt the wind on his face as the water drained away from the deck.

  He opened his eyes. The deck had been wiped clean of sailors, and the two masts were reduced to stumps. The entire forward deck had been swept away, and the ship was still angled with the stern high. The keel groaned and twisted beneath them, and sections were tearing off as the water battered them. Corthie stared. The ship was riding the wave, and was hurtling towards the coast.

  Next to him, Van was sprawled across the planks of the deck, his left arm still strapped to the railing. Blood was coming from a cut across his left cheek, and his eyes were closed. Of Silva, there was no sign.

  Corthie turned back to the city of Alea Tanton. The speed of the wave was so great that they had covered most of the distance, and Corthie could look down upon the fields of Tordue that lay beyond the slums. He had survived the initial impact, but that was the easy part, he realised. Once the wave hit the coast, the ship would be flung forwards, and would land somewhere amid the crowded streets. He released his left arm from its grip round the beam, and pulled Van’s unconscious body towards him. There was nothing else he could do; nothing but cling on and hope.

  The wave struck Alea Tanton with the force of a hundred earthquakes, overwhelming the first mile of densely packed city without pause. The ship’s keel levelled as the water level sank, then the bow lifted. Another mile passed, and the ship was pushed down among the debris and bodies that were churning the water. Corthie closed his eyes again as the deck was submerged. The keel struck something, and turned, twisting and grinding off the rooftops of high tenements. It snagged, and the force of the water ripped the hull in two, the bow continuing down into the maelstrom, while the stern came to a juddering halt on the long roof of a housing block.

  Corthie opened his eyes again, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was still strapped to the railing, and had remained with the stern of the ship on the rooftop. Around him, the water level was falling, but still reached the upper windows of the block’s highest floor. He tried to stand, but his legs collapsed under him, and he fell back to the deck. His left arm was gripping onto Van, and he released the buckles on the belts that had saved their lives. His right arm fell limp to his side, the muscles cramped and aching. His entire body was in pain, and for a moment, all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. He stared up at the blue sky. The view looked peaceful, apart from the flocks of squawking gulls that were circling overhead. They would survive the coming catastrophes, he thought, and for some reason, the thought made him want to laugh.

  * * *

  Time passed, though how much was impossible for Corthie to say as he lay on the deck. Sounds came and went – the roar of the water, the screams, the tumble of collapsing buildings, the groaning from the beams of what was left of the ship. The hot sun dried Corthie’s face, and he could taste salt on his lips.

  ‘Hey,’ said a slow, tired voice; ‘are you alive?’

  Corthie glanced over. A sailor, his clothes hanging in ragged strips, was leaning over him and Van.

  ‘I think so,’ said Corthie.

  ‘What about your friend?’

  Corthie pushed himself up into a sitting position. Van was lying on the deck next to him, his chest rising and falling.

  ‘Aye,’ said Corthie; ‘he’s alive.’

  ‘That makes three of us,’ said the sailor, his eyes bloodshot. ‘Three. The captain’s gone, and the officers. It’s a miracle any of us are alive. The gods were with us.’

  ‘Aye; I’m sure they were,’ Corthie muttered.

  He stood, using the railing to support his weight. The water level had fallen further, and now reached halfway up the tenement block. All around, the tops of buildings were poking out of the water like little islands, while between them, green-skinned bodies and floating debris were bobbing in the currents. To their left rose a complex of high, stone buildings, with one shaped into a circle.

  ‘What’s that?’ he said, pointing.

  ‘The Northern Pits,’ said the sailor. ‘We landed between that and the walls of Old Tanton, smack into the middle of Fordian territory, or, what’s left of it.’ He crouched by the railing, his head bent forward in exhaustion. ‘I should have died. I’m alive because I disobeyed orders. The captain told us to draw in the sails, and I ran away and hid in a storage locker under the deck.’ He shuddered. ‘It was like a being in a coffin.’

  ‘What about below deck?’ said Corthie. ‘Could anyone be alive down there?’

  ‘There is no below deck,’ said the sailor. ‘It was ripped off when we hit the first buildings.’

  Corthie closed his eyes. ‘I had a friend down there.’

  ‘You had a friend? I had sixteen crewmates.’

  Van spluttered, his chest heaving as water surged from his mouth. Corthie helped him sit, leaning his back against the railing.

  ‘Sohul…’ he gasped, as he opened his eyes. ‘Corthie?’

  ‘You saved me, Van,’ Corthie said, ‘your advice saved us both, but Sohul was down in his cabin, and Silva was swept away.’

  Van’s face crumpled, and he started to weep.

  ‘He’s in shock,’ said the sailor.

  ‘I think we’re all in shock,’ said Corthie. ‘Thousands have just died.’

  ‘Half the city’s inundated. It might be more than thousands. I should never have left Cape Armour; I should never have taken this voyage.’

  ‘Cape Armour will be gone too,’ said Van, a hollow look on his face as his tears ceased. ‘The entire west coast of Khatanax took the brunt of that wave, and more will come. Lostwell is finished.’

  The sailor stared at him.

  ‘Edmond did this,’ Van went on; ‘the accursed Second Ascendant. Bastard.’

  Corthie noticed that a small group of Fordian civilians had joined them on the roof, a handful of drenched and bleeding survivors from the housing block where they h
ad landed. Others were on the roofs of the neighbouring buildings, wailing and lamenting as they stared at the flooded city. Corthie climbed down from the ruined deck and stood on the flat roof. He walked to the edge and looked down.

  ‘The water level is falling fast,’ he said. ‘Van, we need to go.’

  Van staggered over to join him.

  ‘Look,’ said Corthie. ‘Just a few minutes ago, the water was halfway up the side of the building; now it’s only a few feet above the ground.’

  Van frowned. ‘Another wave is coming.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The ocean is being sucked back, ready to batter the coast again.’

  ‘Then we need to get out of here; head east, away from the coast. How long have we got?’

  Van shrugged.

  ‘We can’t give up yet,’ said Corthie; ‘we’re alive.’

  ‘Sohul’s not.’

  ‘I know; I’m sorry. He was a good man. And Silva too; she…’

  ‘Immortals can’t drown,’ muttered Van. ‘Silva will be fine, for now. She’ll float up onto the shore someplace or another, but even she won’t be able survive what’s coming next.’

  ‘Then we get to Old Alea. If the Ascendants are there, it ought to be the safest place in the city. The wave wasn’t high enough to reach up there. If we can…’

  ‘You don’t understand, Corthie.’

  ‘Then humour me. You might be right; we might all die today, or tomorrow, but I’m not giving up. Come on, let’s get moving.’

  Van shook his head.

  ‘Are you just going to stay here?’ cried Corthie. ‘Are you going to meekly await your death? Have you forgotten your promise to my sister?’

  Van glanced away.

  ‘Fine,’ said Corthie. ‘I’m going. Good luck.’

  He turned, and began to hurry towards the stairwell that led into the housing block.

  ‘Wait,’ said Van. ‘I’ll come, even though it’s pointless.’

  Corthie waited for him to catch up, then they walked to the stairs, passing the ragged band of survivors, who stared at them. Corthie led the way, and they ran down the stairs. Water was cascading from the upper floors, and they were drenched again as they descended into the darkness of the stairwell. Van staggered and slipped a few times, and Corthie took his arm. The water level was only up to their shins when they reached ground level, and was still falling. Corthie checked the position of the sun to the west, and turned in the opposite direction. No one living was out on the street, but it was almost blocked in places by drifting bodies, and mountains of piled-up debris.