The Key to Creation (49 page)

“Do you actually sleep here, Kel Unwar?” Omra asked. He wore his pristine white uniform, maroon olba, and sash.

“This is no time for sleep, Soldan-Shah—and
that
is not a practice drill. It feels different to me.” Unwar stared to the north where the Tierran military milled about with more commotion than usual, obviously intending to advance. “If they have found their balls at last, I am ready to castrate them.”

Omra stroked his dark beard and watched the enemy army. “I don’t believe they were hesitating out of uncertainty or fear—it’s part of a plan. This is no impulse, but a carefully orchestrated operation. They have moved too many soldiers, brought in too many ships.”

Unwar let a small smile curve his lips. “No matter, Soldan-Shah. They can’t breach God’s Barricade. It has stood firm against a thousand boulders hurled at it. It can stand up against a cavalry charge.”

Omra knew Unwar was right, but his heart wasn’t convinced. He had called reinforcements to the wall as a show of force, and they crowded together in an impressive force, waiting to see what the Tierrans were up to. Thousands more Urabans were massed behind the main gate, ready to move against the Aidenists if the gate happened to be breached. In such great numbers, the soldiers were laughing and boisterous.

As the ’Hook soldiers lined up and marched forward, the kel shouted orders down the line. “Bring forth our archers to mow them down as soon as they’re in range. Queen Anjine will lose half of her fighters before they even touch the gate.”

The soldan-shah continued to study the army’s approach, deep in thought. Could that be Anjine’s plan? To sacrifice all those soldiers, hoping that enough would survive to reach the wall itself ? And then what? “Who can understand these mad Tierrans?”

Unwar’s personal anger seemed to dwarf Omra’s. “If they come close enough for us to kill them, I’ll be happy to decorate the wall with their heads. God’s Barricade extends seven miles—room for plenty of victims.” He looked eager for it. “I built this wall, Soldan-Shah, and I dug our canal…but if we exterminate the Aidenists,
that
will be my greatest achievement.”

Uraban archers rushed up ladders and staircases to the top of the wide wall; they strung their bows and took up positions, propping full quivers beside them.

Below, the Tierran army tramped over the grim line of weathered skulls that waited for them. Omra whispered to himself, “Let’s leave a line of their skeletons that far outnumbers all the innocent Urabans they have slain.”

He recognized the Aidenist queen riding at the fore, resplendent in new armor; a standard bearer at her side carried the Crown-and-Fishhook banner. Though he had never met Anjine in person, Omra loathed her for the things her people had done. She ruled Tierra, and thus the responsibility for all Tierran atrocities rested on her shoulders. The queen symbolized the terror and harm that had been inflicted upon devout Urecari. He prayed for the chance to face her himself. He didn’t care that she was a woman; he would cut off her head just the same. She would bleed like any other victim.

Though the Tierran soldiers were nearly in arrow range of the wall, they did not slow. The cavalry horses whinnied, the footsoldiers’ armor clanked, their swords flashed under the bright sun. He found himself holding his breath.

Unexpected trumpets and alarm bells sounded from deep within Ishalem. Unwar and Omra whirled to see a bright flare shining from a watchtower far to the east. More signals passed; messengers used mirrors to flash an urgent message, according to the routine Kel Unwar had put in place. “Unwar, what is it?”

The kel shaded his eyes, trying to identify the source of the disturbance. “It’s coming from the guard posts along the canal, Soldan-Shah. Something seems to be happening at the Middlesea harbor.”

“But the Tierran army is right in front of us.” Omra frowned. “What new treachery is this?”

Together they hurried to the nearest sentry tower. The watchmen on the top platform were looking south and east, engrossed in something other than the advancing Tierran army. Omra brusquely took a spyglass from one of the sentries and stared along the straight new canal that flowed from one sea to the other.

A messenger came running up then, having translated the coded mirror flashes, but Omra saw the heartwrenching truth in the spyglass before the man could deliver his report. “It’s the ironclads,” he said, feeling a hot weight in his heart. “
My
ironclads.” He should have expected it.

The tall sailing juggernauts, designed to be the most powerful ships in his own navy, were now commanded by Tierran invaders. The six armored vessels had wrought breathtaking havoc in Olabar harbor. Now they cruised majestically into the Ishalem canal.

The
Dyscovera
and the
Al-Orizin

As the ocean current dragged them along, Aldo and Sen Sherufa went out on deck, facing the brisk wind that whispered around them. Sherufa leaned far over the rail, peering into the sea, where a flash of movement caught her eye. “Was that a dolphin? In these cold waters?”

Aldo spotted another shape, then two more streaking through the water. “Those aren’t just dolphins.” He turned with a joyful grin, calling out, “Captain! Captain Vora!”

The aquatic forms transformed with a blur and a splash to become shapely human figures, men and women who circled the battered ships like playful creatures. The sailors set up a great hue and cry.

Aldo impulsively embraced Sherufa. “Those are the mer-Saedrans!”

Several of King Sonhir’s daughters surfaced, waving slender arms at the ship. Aldo shouted to them, “You came back—I can’t believe you came back! We never meant to hurt you. Please, help us.”

Captain Vora spoke sharply to two sailors. “Confine Prester Hannes to his cabin,
now
! I won’t let him interfere as he did last time. We need them.”

As he was led toward his cabin, Hannes tried to pull his arm free. “I will cause no trouble, Captain—I swear. You need my guidance.” The prester looked so earnest that Captain Vora believed him.

“Very well, but the moment you go against me, I’ll have you thrown overboard.” He shook his head. “You damaged our relationship with King Sonhir’s people last time, but maybe they’ve come to offer us a second chance.”

While the mer-Saedrans circled the wallowing ships, King Sonhir’s daughters tried to coax Aldo to jump into the sea and swim with them, but he shivered at the very thought of the chill gray water. “Will your father speak with us again? I promise he will be safe. Please give us a chance.”

With a splash, Sonhir surfaced among the swimming mer-Saedrans. “We will hear your explanations. My daughters speak highly of Sen Aldo na-Curic—and I have a man here who vouches for Captain Criston Vora on his very life.”

Another broad-shouldered form swam up from beneath the water and rose next to the king. Captain Vora let out a shout. “Kjelnar…you’re alive!”

“Yes, I’m here, Captain! They pulled me overboard during the fight, but never meant to harm me.” The shipwright cast his gaze along the splintered hulks of the two ships. “I don’t know what you’ve done to my
Dyscovera
, but it looks like you could use our assistance. The king and I would like to come aboard, with permission?”

Men threw a rope ladder over the side of the ship, while the Urecari watched from the adjoining hull with uneasy curiosity.

King Sonhir and Kjelnar stood dripping on the deck; they did not shiver, despite the cold breeze. When Aldo introduced Sen Sherufa, the mer-king was thrilled to meet another Saedran. Sherufa found only halting words as the often-repeated legend of her people became real around her. “I never wanted to leave Olabar at all, but I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

Kjelnar was bursting with energy and excitement. “Oh, Captain, the things I have seen, the places these Saedrans have shown me! They worked some kind of spell or transformation on me, so that I have the ability to breathe underwater. I can swim and explore just like they do.”

Aldo felt a pang upon hearing this, for the mer-king’s daughters had extended the same invitation to him, but he had refused to give up his life and family back in Calay.

“We have had time to ponder our unfortunate last meeting.” The mer-king turned to Captain Vora. “We seized Kjelnar in anger, but he has been a good instructor. The Saedrans understand you better now.”

Aldo asked, “But how did you find us? We’ve sailed so far from where we met.”

“But I knew where the
Dyscovera
was going,” Kjelnar explained, “and I convinced Sonhir and his people to search for you. Good thing, too—your ship looks half-wrecked, and these Urabans…” He looked at the foreign crewmembers with deep suspicion. Hatred was shockingly plain on his face, and Aldo remembered that Kjelnar was one of the only survivors of Prester-Marshall Baine’s volunteers, who had been slaughtered by Urecari at Ishalem.

The captain shook his head ruefully. “We have stories to tell, Kjelnar. Much to catch up on.” He turned to the leader of the mer-Saedrans, who had taken a seat on a bleached and cracked barrel. “I’m very grateful, King Sonhir—for giving us a second chance.”

“Our races share a common history that leads back to Terravitae—Saedrans, Tierrans, and Urabans. It’s fitting that we are drawn there together. I can guide you the rest of the way.”

True to his promise to Captain Vora, Hannes kept his feelings to himself, refusing even to speak of the undersea people, but he still loathed them for what they represented. He felt beset on all sides, his ship infested with heretical followers of Urec, guided to their goal by mer-Saedrans—Ondun’s Stepchildren. It was a backbreaking set of tribulations that God asked him to face.

The prester had given up hope that Sonhir’s people would accept the Fishhook, but if they led the
Dyscovera
to Terravitae, he would forgive them some things. Maybe he could convince them to turn against the Urecari, whom Hannes would never forgive.…

Sikara Fyiri persisted in taunting Hannes, though he kept his dignity and did not rise to her bait. He had irrefutable answers for every one of her ridiculous questions, but the priestess would not budge when he explained the truth to her, and he grew more and more strident as they approached the promised land. After clinging to his faith for so long, surviving the fire in Ishalem and dutifully wreaking destruction across Uraba, Hannes would not surrender now.

Fyiri found his intractable attitude amusing. Hannes wanted to throw her overboard, but even if he did, the annoying mer-Saedrans would probably rescue her.…

At sunset, the sailors spotted a dark haze on the horizon and a blur of low clouds—a coastline that stretched as far as they could see. “Land ahead! There’s a shoreline!” Tierran and Uraban sailors shaded their eyes and stared.

Sen Aldo said, “That’s much too large to be an island.”

Hannes knew exactly where they were, and his eyes filled with tears. Fyiri was silent for once as she stood too close to him, her perfumed auburn hair blowing about in the breeze. The landscape ahead appeared rugged, but the prester painted a picture with his own expectations.

Javian approached him, ignoring the priestess. “Prester, is that truly Terravitae? Have we finally arrived?”

“Yes, Javian. I told you to have faith.”

Fyiri smiled at them and spoke in Uraban. “Tomorrow, Prester Hannes, we shall see who is right.”

She moved off to administer sunset services on the
Al-Orizin
, telling her people to rejoice. Hannes gritted his teeth when he heard her ululating voice crying the blasphemous untruths about Terravitae.

At dusk, the two captains called for a halt to their progress, much to the dismay of the crews, though they knew the shores might be treacherous. The joined ships dropped anchor and the mer-Saedrans swam away, promising to guide them in the morning. The ships remained motionless on a quiet sea, tantalizingly within reach of Terravitae.

“Yes,” Hannes muttered to himself, “tomorrow we see who is right.”

Ishalem Canal

The six ironclads sailed straight toward the mouth of the new canal, and Destrar Broeck did not know whether to trust his eyes. Back at Gremurr, the freed Tierran slaves had talked about the soldan-shah’s absurd scheme to excavate a waterway across the isthmus from the Middlesea to the Oceansea. Now, with Ishalem before him, Broeck could only stare. “It’s true. By the Fishhook, they have done it!”

Broeck saw the dawning opportunity, a change of plans that would allow his men to inflict even greater mayhem: instead of just striking the eastern harbor, miles from where the Tierran army was attacking the wall, he could lead his warships into
the very heart of Ishalem
! He raised a fist high. “Let’s show these Urabans how much damage their own warships can cause.”

Since returning to Gremurr, Broeck had taken command of one of the remaining vessels and designated it the flagship, since his noble
Wilka
now lay at the bottom of Olabar harbor along with the wreck of the
Golden Fern
. Although some claimed it was bad luck to reuse the name of a sunken ship, Broeck wasn’t superstitious. He insisted on also christening the second flagship after his lost wife; he had no interest in other names.

The sails of all six ironclads displayed a defiant Fishhook as they cruised into the canal. Because the channel was narrow, the
Wilka
led the fleet in single file, with Iaros captaining the
Raathgir
behind it. They would push as far as they could go into the city, and they would fight all the way.

“Call out the archers,” he shouted. “Flaming arrows where needed, but if you’re just shooting at people, plain arrows will do well enough.”

When the ships entered the waterway, Urecari citizens sounded the alarm and pointed in horror. Intermittent wooden watchtowers lined the banks of the canal, and silhouetted sentries lit torches or flashed messages with signal mirrors. Broeck laughed deep in his chest—what a surprise this must be! Battle horns rallied the citizens, but he didn’t care. Unless the soldan-shah possessed another juggernaut like the
Golden Fern
, these warships were unstoppable. In fact, he hoped the Curlies would raise alarms loud enough to let Queen Anjine know that he and his warships had arrived.