The Last Null

by K L Reinhart

  “Such talk can break kingdoms. Start wars,” Kol said severely, earning a sage nod from the two Mendip brothers beside and above them. “The line is contested, with Ara and Tor and Brecha all claiming a more direct line of descent. The records of birth and marriage and blood-lineage have become confused and broken, with each kingdom having their own records. It is unknown if there is any way of recovering the truth now . . .”

  “You humans . . .” Terak muttered with a shake of his head. As if it matters now that the world is about to end! The conversation had, however, come to a natural end as Yarl let down a rope ladder to show them the Kingsdrake in greater detail.

  “She was built to be the personal galleon of the new king,” the thinner brother explained. He showed them the fore and aft decks, raised higher than the mid-deck with wide wooden stairs reaching them. A small but stylized house sat at the back of the mid-deck, with windows whose glass was whorled and tinted red. When Terak looked inside, he saw that it appeared to be part council-chamber, with a round table securely bolted to the floor, as well as a store with weapons and equipment lockers along the opposing walls.

  “Look,” Yarl said, sliding back one of the iron bolts from the locker room. Inside were rows of breastplates, and arm and leg greaves of bronze-colored metal, still gleaming as if they had been polished. “The armor of the High Family, kept here for the personal guard of the new High King.” Yarl showed off the accompanying tall boots and leather jerkins, tooled with green-and-purple dyes.

  “Should be enough to outfit any who want something stronger.” Yarl nodded at Kol and the other Emarii and Tor citizens. Next to them were stacked bows, sheaths of purple-fletched arrows, and racks of throwing spears.

  “Enough for a battle.” Lars nodded appreciatively.

  But will it be enough for a war? The elf of the Enclave wondered darkly. Sometimes the Path of Pain was a hard thing to shake off. It tended not to leave much room for optimism.

  After that, the group moved out and up the stairs to the aft-deck at the rear of the ship. There the wheel itself sat, looking clear out over the eaves of the apex ship-house. The ship’s wheel itself was a double—meaning two multi-spoked wooden wheels as big as those for a cart. Its spokes were headed with more of the glowing crystal orbs.

  “Each one is made of ochullax, and each one has already been attuned to certain parts of the ship,” Yarl said. His chest puffed with pride as he caressed the wheel, for the nearest of the ochullax stones to flare under his direction.

  Ochullax! The effect on the elf was galvanic, as he stood ramrod still where he was.

  “Easy, elf . . .” Kol murmured at his side, not sharing the same horror as the others—or, at least, hiding it well. Instead, the old Emarii storyteller asked sweetly of the two Mendip brothers, “Tell me, do all of your marvelous air galleons run on ochullax? Is that the secret that you have been hiding for so long!?” He said this with a chortled, unassuming laugh.

  In return, Yarl appeared a little hesitant, but it was the larger Lars who had less qualms about sharing the secrets of the Guild. “Of course! Why do you think our predecessors built the Guild here of all places? It was once common knowledge that the quarries of Verehomme were one of the best places to mine ochullax stones. Isn’t it obvious that it takes the power of the stones to perform such an act of magic as getting one of these afloat?” Lars slapped the wheel on the other side of his brother, earning more welcoming flashes from the pommel-stones there.

  Ah. The elf thought, remembering how the battle-barge appeared unresponsive to Lars. He turned to blink at Kol, who must have shared his own misgivings.

  Nulls cancel out ochullax, the elf knew only too well. And it’s not only me who is a null here—but each and every one of the Emarii, too!

  “Let’s hope she flies as well as the day she was built!” Terak said with fake enthusiasm, even though his gut was churning at the news.

  “Of course she will. The Guild prides itself on not making any mistakes!” Yarl, now transformed into the more optimistic of the two doctors of the Mendip family, said gladly.

  We’ll just see about that . . . Terak thought darkly, as their eyes turned to the rest of the boat.

  Just behind the wheel was another of the command thrones with all of the ochullax-headed levers that the battle-barge had displayed. There was enough room to have both a pilot and a navigator—although from Yarl’s performance against the Ixcht, it could be perfectly well navigated from the chair alone.

  The Kingsdrake had three masts with small crows-nest platforms at their heights. These were already becoming the homes of some of the Elder Beings, finding comfort and ease high in the riggings. At least that is something working for us! Terak thought.

  Below decks, the small air galleon was just as well-provisioned as the top—even without available cannon-shot. There was a main hold with barrels and crates which Yarl assured them were filled with spare ropes, sand, sailcloth, and pickled goods (“We’ve kept her stocked up every year since we made her!” the Master and Chief of the Guild had insisted). There were gun alcoves and relays of small cannons along the edge, before doors at both fore and aft that led to quarters, bunk-rooms, and the ship’s healing room. Hatches in the floors led to the lower hold, which still held an array of smaller rocks and stones which had not been released from the bottom hatchways onto the Ixchtish boat.

  “We’ll need to re-stock her with as much rocks as she can carry,” Lars muttered. “It’ll take the rest of the day if everyone works at it.”

  It’ll have to do. Terak frowned. If they wanted any sort of defense at all against whatever orc or Ixcht or Ungol beast that they came across.

  “But there are still a few tricks that the Navigators have,” Lars said, turning to grin at Yarl. “Have we checked the Chemist’s Hall recently, brother mine?”

  The other brother, Yarl Mendip, looked confused for a moment, then nodded as a slow smile spread across his face. “You know what, brother? I don’t think that we have . . .”

  Terak looked between the two grinning brothers, for Lars to explain what he had in mind.

  “The Guild used to employ a school of chemists and alchemists right here at the quarry—before they all ran off to work for the human kingdoms on their own, of course . . . But they left a lot behind. Yarl and I have never had cause to use any of it . . .” Lars said appreciatively. He looked up to grin at Terak.

  “It’s not just the Ixcht who can control fire, you know!” the Doctor, Chief, and Master of the Royal Guild of Navigators said.

  12

  Wings in the Wind

  The Kingsdrake raced across the rising floes of hills that ran like rivers away from their parents, the Tartaruk mountains. This land below them—the hill farms and river meadows of the North that stretched between the human kingdoms of Brecha and Tor—was becoming a wild place. The roads here were wide dirt paths, deeply rutted, with the occasional abandoned inn or hostelry.

  “This was troll country even before the Blood Plague came . . .” Kol murmured beside Terak. They stood at the prow of the Kingsdrake, overlooking the leaping draconian figure head and the land below them. When they could see distant homesteads or singular buildings, many of them appeared burnt out and gutted, as if cleansed of all life.

  The Third Baleful Sign, the elf remembered. The mysterious plague that had swept down from the North, setting people coughing up their own vitals and claiming the life of at least one in four.

  “And that was even before . . .” Kol said quietly.

  Before this, Terak thought. He knew precisely what the older storyteller was talking about. Not just the Blood Plague, but what had come after it.

  The land below them was shadowed and dark, although Terak was sure that they still had a good few hours left before nightfall. When the elf attempted to search for the sun, all he saw in the sky to the west was a lighter gloom, as if the sun of their world itself had given up her job.

  The Fourth Baleful Sign, the Plague of Darkn
ess, was seeping down from the North of the world. Terak assumed it came from the Vale of the Blood Gate. Where they should be able to see the glittering, ice-crowned tops of their world, all that was ahead of them was blackness, tinged with a second glimmer of radiance—purple.

  “The Ungol Light still burns,” Kol muttered distastefully, although it was no surprise to any.

  The inexperienced crew of the ship behind them moved quietly and intensely. The Emarii and the refugee citizens of Tor were also caught up by the gloom that they were running headlong toward. From the bowels of the ship came the odd thump and mechanical judder, as Lars was working away at installing the fire-cannons that he had promised. And none too soon either! the elf thought.

  “Get some sleep, elf. We may have a ways to go yet,” Kol said. He had only recently returned from one of the cot beds and was now cradling a wooden bowl of steaming stew.

  Terak merely shook his head. He was not tired at all. In fact, when he gazed ahead into the darkness, he felt enervated. “You know that the forces of Ungol are always stronger at night,” Terak said. He nodded to the lowering sun—or where he thought it should be. But it wasn’t just watchfulness that kept the assassin of the Enclave awake. It was something else.

  Pain teaches, he reminded himself. And surely, that meant that the lesson ahead was to be the greatest lesson yet. Kol lapsed into a meditative, gloomy sort of silence beside him as they watched the oncoming night.

  As it happened, their silent watch into the darkness lasted until the gloomy radiance of their natural sun had completely vanished, and beyond it a little—until they heard screeching on the wind.

  “Estreek!” Terak yelled, as the small, flying serpent-shapes burst out of the night and the unnatural darkness. The elf did not comprehend whether these winged serpents had been sent to attack them, or whether the savage Ungol creatures were now forming free-flying flocks now.

  “Light! We need light!” Kol was already crying, as the first wave of the wriggling forms swept past mast and sail, slapping and skittering on the deck as they coiled and hissed.

  “Hyugh!” The elf grunted, leaping across the foredeck to stamp on the whipping tail of one of the serpents, before jamming one of his two blades down into the thing’s body.

  “Don’t let them bite you!” he shouted, which in afterthought was a rather useless comment. Surely no one would willingly get bitten by one of the winged Estreek! But Terak had also seen the effect that their bite had—on his friend Reticula, who had saved his life more than once, and for whom he had traveled across worlds to find a cure.

  The serpents left behind them a poison. One that threaded through the bodies of the afflicted in thick black lines, making the victim weaker and weaker as it did so, before finally claiming their lives entirely. The only person that Terak had known who had apparently withstood many such bites, and who still bore the faded black arteries over their body was the mighty champion of the orcs, and now their heretic, Vorg the Unwanted.

  Terak doubted that anyone on this boat would prove as strong. He spun around to slice through another hurtling Estreek as it flared past him. His blow neatly severed the thing, allowing it to fall in two parts on the wooden deck, but still obscenely convulsing.

  “Foulness!” The elf heard a chirruping screech. He saw the lighter, flashing shapes of the Elder Beings spring to the decks with a hawk’s grace and skill. They caught and stabbed the winged serpents in the air with their spears or even with their bare hands before stamping on them with the bird claws of their feet.

  Perhaps they are natural enemies, Terak thought for a moment—but it seemed that not everyone was as skilled as the Elder Beings were.

  “Aii!” Down on the lower middle-deck, one of the Emarii was stumbling and flailing as two of the winged serpents were firmly attached to both leg and shoulder. Terak hissed in alarm, seeing another of the Emarii race to help the first—only to be taken off his feet entirely by the sudden impact of another of the serpents.

  “Hss!” The assassin of the Enclave sprang clear down the wooden steps that separated fore and mid-deck, kicking out at one of the flying serpents as he landed before spinning to cut a wing from another. Terak whirled and spun in the center of the boat, lashing out with a dagger that found scaled flesh. He ducked and rolled under the spring of another to bounce to his feet.

  He found that the two Emarii had already succumbed to the bites. They lay twitching on the floor and groaning in pain. There was no time to help or mourn them, however. Another wave of the serpents appeared to be coming for them.

  “Elf-friend! Look up!” screeched the Elder Scout from where he, too, stood on the mid-deck and fought.

  There was a brief lull in their immediate danger, but also a rising sound of rushing wind, coming from right above Terak’s head. And when he looked up, the elf of the Enclave saw the cause.

  Oh, Ixcht.

  There was a huge mass of the bat-winged serpents shooting around the main mast, darting in and out of each other’s flight. They appeared ready to convulse and descend on them all—

  “There’s too many of them!” one of the Tor citizens shouted.

  The Estreek did not throw themselves downward, however, but instead hit the canvas of the main sail like thundered rain and started to cover it entirely. Terak saw the sigil of the Royal Guild of Navigators—the crown over the boat—start to become completely obscured by writhing, dark bodies.

  The Kingsdrake groaned and shook as the sail sagged with the weight.

  And tear . . .

  “Look out!” Terak was suddenly flung to one side. The Elder Scout had barreled into him, flinging him out of the way as the entire main sail hit the mid-deck of the boat, alive with writhing snake bodies.

  “Ugh!” the elf rolled, skidding to the side of the boat house a little way away, flipping himself over as his thoughts raced. “But how did they . . . ?”

  It was almost as if the Estreek were intelligent, that they were seeking to overpower the ship and not just the people that crewed it. His sharp elvish eyes sought out the wriggling forms as they burst through the collapsed sail. The Kingsdrake shook and swerved. The snakes were biting uncontrollably at the canvas, the planking—anything that they could get near.

  “They see the ship itself as the enemy!” the elf realized. It wasn’t that the winged serpents were intelligent at all—it was that they were too instinctive to recognize person from boat. They saw only some large thing that they thought to be in their territory.

  “Retreat! To the foredeck!” Terak roared, jumping up as he grabbed the wing-arm of the Elder Scout to pull him up the stairs.

  “What!?” The Elder Scout was confused, but Terak kept shouting.

  “Stay clear! Get to the higher ground!” he demanded of the Tor citizens and the Emarii alike. In front of him he saw the ship’s house and the mid-deck, with most of the mid-deck covered with the collapsed main sail and now a mess of Estreek bodies.

  But the human defenders of the boat were readily taking the elf’s suggestion. They leapt out of the way of the Estreek that concentrated their fervent attacks at the boat itself.

  “How are we going to get rid of them?” the Elder Scout snapped at him, but was answered by Yarl.

  “I know a way! Hang onto anything you can!” the thinner Mendip brother shouted from his navigator’s throne. He seized the levers at the sides of his chair and started to pull, first one way and then another.

  The Kingsdrake underneath them responded in kind by suddenly swerving to one side, the stairs and the decks rising at a forty-degree angle in a flash.

  Terak growled, seizing the edge of the stairs as his feet slid away from him. The Elder Scout did the same on the other side of the stairs. Terak heard shouts and wails as Emarii and Tor citizens grabbed onto guide ropes and gunwales and railings to avoid being tipped over the boat.

  But Yarl wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t giving anyone—especially not the winged serpents busy eating up his boat—time to recover their
balance. He heaved and yanked at the levers again, and again, causing the Kingsdrake to rock even more wildly.

  “Whoa!” Terak heard the shouts of the humans as they clung on for dear life. The boat rocked first up one way, and then the opposing direction.

  The elf felt his feet lift from behind him as they reached almost the apex of their swing.

  And then the entire main sail and its nest of biting and wriggling Estreek rolled to the edge of the boat and was gone in a flap and a wave of canvas. Smaller, wriggling bodies of the winged serpents followed it, as the Estreek did not have the sense to bite and hold onto the ropes or ship’s furniture.

  “And down!” Doctor Yarl Mendip was calling with apparent glee, thumping the boat back to its regular position. Or trying to, anyway, as the boat shuddered and shook again.

  “The main sail—” Yarl was saying, as the Kingsdrake lurched and fell out of the sky by many feet.

  But Terak wasn’t sure that it was the loss of their mainsail. The elf saw that the aft-deck, which housed the wheel and the navigator’s chair, was clustered with the forms of thirty of the Emarii, who had retreated the Estreek attack when he had asked them to.

  The air galleon shook and the Chief of the Royal Guild of Navigators attempted to regain control. Terak’s eyes saw that the glowing pommels of ochullax stones on the ends of the levers and the spokes of the pilot’s wheel were flickering and fading haphazardly.

  Yarl hadn’t noticed the change in his boat yet, but the elf did.

  “To the wounded!” he shouted, already turning to try and lead the Emarii away from the aft deck. Perhaps it was the sheer number of nulls all in one place, he thought as some of the Emarii started to follow him.

  “What the . . . ? Come on!” Terak didn’t look behind as he heard Yarl cursing the controls, but he caught the glance of Kol, already arriving on the main deck from the other side. Kol’s eyes were focused and wary, and Terak nodded to him silently.