Forge of the high mage, p.42
Forge of the High Mage, page 42
part #4 of Path to Ascendancy Series
She noticed the chamber was quiet and both Nuraj and Mallick were eyeing her, rather quizzically.
‘Your report?’ Nuraj asked. ‘You met with this leader, I understand?’
She cleared her throat. ‘Yes. However, I doubt he is their leader. This invasion, or whatever it is, doesn’t seem to have any real leadership.’
The Guardian of the Faith grunted his agreement. ‘This is my impression as well. Yet they claim him to be.’
She nodded. ‘After having met him, I believe he may simply be a powerful magus who himself has fled the south. They fear him but owe him no allegiance.’
Nuraj slammed the table, snarling, ‘A damned waste of an attack then.’
‘We won’t waste it again,’ Mallick answered, his voice soft and sibilant.
Nuraj sat back, eyeing the man narrowly. ‘Oh? Just what are you proposing?’
‘In two days’ time I propose we summon the Jhistal once more. And that we unleash it again. This time much more publicly. I propose we use it to destroy one of these pirate nests.’
‘Destroy one of our own cities or towns?’ Nuraj yelled.
‘Kill our own citizens?’ Glinith demanded.
Mallick raised a pallid hand. ‘I propose Jook Isle. As we have heard – these raiders recently inflicted a lesson in retribution for any defiance. I suggest we do the same. Only our lesson will be final.’ He waved again. ‘Most civilians, I understand, have already fled Jook. Few remain, as a result of all the recent fighting on the isle and these pirates’ reprisals. Obviously all these scum understand is the language of violence and intimidation. Well, we shall give them our retribution. And it will be a lesson that will resound throughout the region – yes?’ He nodded to Glinith. ‘Through the priesthood, give any remaining residents two days’ warning. Flee, or die.’
In response, Glinith felt herself sag. So this was it. This was what they’d come to. Murdering their own in a squalid and pathetic effort to grasp at power. She could not raise her gaze.
And yet, a voice within her answered, what if they were to succeed? What then? Would they not be lauded universally as deliverers? If they managed to drive off these invaders, would this not ensure the future of the Faith – and their own reputations – for ever?
‘Make the preparations,’ Mallick ordered.
Without raising her gaze, she nodded. ‘As you wish.’
‘Yet,’ stammered Nuraj, ‘isn’t the High Priestess gone? That is, who will …’ He was silent for a time, before continuing, ‘That is, who will be the …’
Into the silence following the unsaid question, Mallick murmured, ‘We have others.’
* * *
In the end it was Torva who spotted the site – much to Gianna’s embarrassment. It took a day of slow wandering through the maze of rocks, poling from one to another, searching. She directed them while standing at the bows. Unfortunately for her, as they went from rock to rock, they all started looking alike. She knew the arrangement she was looking for; she just didn’t know how to get to it.
Torva had been nearby all day, pointing out tall stones and suggesting turns that she studiously ignored – as she tried to concentrate. Finally, after beginning to suspect she was now leading them in circles, and with Brevin’s impatient frowns growing ever deeper, she turned to Torva as a last resort.
‘You think you know where it is?’ she demanded, far more harshly than she intended.
‘I may have a handle on it,’ he answered, as laconic as usual.
‘Well?’
He nodded to the north. ‘Have to double back a touch.’
She bit her lip; Brevin would not like that. However, for her the shoals were now living up to one of their nicknames – the Maze of Stones. ‘Back northwards,’ she called to the crew, who looked dubious, but began shifting their poling to edge the Glimmer around.
It was slow going, and the sun was now low. The slanting amber light came and went as they passed one standing spur after the other. Gianna wiped chill spray from her face as she squinted, scanning the rocks.
‘I’m not so sure …’ she began, but Torva raised a hand for a pause.
‘We’re gettin’ there.’
‘How can you know?’
‘I know.’ Gianna couldn’t keep the doubt from her face, but the old smuggler just smiled indulgently. ‘You’ll see …’
Then, in the half-light of the coming sunset, the set of rocks ahead fell into place in her memory and she turned to Torva. ‘How did you know?’
He tapped a finger to an eye. ‘A lifetime of memorizing handy mooring-spots, hidden caves and coves.’
‘A lifetime of smuggling you mean,’ Gianna added, with a shake of her head. She turned back to Brevin, gestured ahead. ‘That crowded group of tall rocks there.’
The captain blew out a breath. ‘You sure know how to pick ’em.’
‘As close as you can, please.’
‘As close as I dare …’ Brevin muttered, and turned to ordering the crew.
It was full evening, the night very dark as a new moon was close. By the time the crew had tied off the Glimmer with lines to three different rocks, even Gianna had to admit it was far too dark to dive.
The crew dined hugely that night on fresh fruits and cuts of meat seared over the ship’s iron brazier. Gianna, however, thinking of tomorrow, ate little. She then threw herself down early to try to get some sleep, although, with her stomach in knots of anxiety and anticipation, she knew it would be slow in coming.
When dawn’s light pinked the eastern horizon she was already awake. The routine of her readying to dive was all very familiar for the crew as they’d been through it many times by now. Brevin, however, made a show of checking and rechecking all the rigging, and personally tied the lifeline to Gianna’s wrist.
‘May Mael guide you,’ the captain murmured to her – and she almost flinched.
‘Not that, please. Anything but that.’
Brevin appeared surprised, but nodded. ‘Very well. Gods look away, then.’
Gianna sat on the ship’s side. ‘Yes, that. I much prefer that.’
And she dived.
CHAPTER 25
HESSA WAS NOT SURPRISED WHEN MALAZAN TROOPERS opened the canvas flap of her and Turnagin’s tent and gestured them out. She eyed the mage, who straightened his newly washed robes, looking grim.
Outside, Fist Dujek stood awaiting them, with a staff of aides and guards standing a respectful distance off. The Fist met them with an easy nod that soothed Hessa’s worst suspicions – at least it looked like they weren’t about to be executed.
‘Cap’n,’ Dujek greeted her, and, ‘Sage,’ to Turnagin. ‘You’re both civilians,’ he began, rubbing the back of his neck, ‘so technically you’re guests in this camp. An’ I can’t order you to do anything. But we’re facing a damned dangerous situation here—’
Turnagin was staring upwards at the dense deck of smoke clouds churning overhead. ‘I’ll go,’ he interrupted.
The Fist grunted, nodding. ‘Ah, good. The Empire thanks you.’
Hessa had to shake her head – almost laughing at the foolishness of it – saying, ‘And I.’
The Fist crooked a sideways smile, nodding once more. ‘Have to say, that’s about what I expected.’ He gestured vaguely across the encampment. ‘You’ve permission to draw stores and equipment from the depot. Be ready at dawn.’ And he ambled away.
Hessa shared a rueful glance with Turnagin, who began, ‘You don’t have to …’
‘I know. But I will. Can’t let you go in alone.’
‘I’ll hardly be alone.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘You’re hoping maybe to catch sight of the twins?’
She snorted. ‘Gods. If I was them, I’d be long gone by now. But … yes.’
Turnagin scanned the direction across camp where the Fist had pointed. ‘Let us perhaps see what stores they have.’
‘You go ahead for now.’
‘Very well.’
Hessa faced the north, and the dominating bulk of the mountain. It appeared to be spewing out even more smoke and soot than before. No, gal, she told herself, you’re not going to be executed – at least not immediately.
*
Tayschrenn was sipping tea in the command tent when Dujek entered. ‘We have our guides,’ the Fist announced.
Blowing on the ceramic cup, Tayschrenn nodded, impressed. Frankly, he hadn’t expected that level of courage or responsibility from any civilian. But then, he was now beginning to suspect that perhaps he was more wrong than he realized when trying to understand the motivations, and character, of others.
This after being so certain he knew quite well.
Which itself – he now understood – was a mistake.
‘When do we leave?’ he asked.
‘Tomorrow, dawn.’ The Fist peered about the tent. ‘And where’s Hairlock, anyway?’
‘Out keeping an eye on the artefact.’ Dujek grunted at this. ‘And who will be going?’
The Fist blew out a rueful breath, pressed his hand to his forehead. ‘Gods! Dancer insists and I can’t stop Dassem.’ The man almost groaned. ‘Surly will skin me alive.’
‘An entire company would be of no help in those halls. Any troops would just be killed by these Che’Malle.’
Dujek eyed him anew. ‘Is this compassion for the common soldier I’m hearing?’
Tayschrenn tilted his head, considering. He sipped his tea. ‘I believe that I am mostly thinking of the waste.’
Dujek slowly shook his head. ‘I’ll be outside – getting some fresh air.’
Tayschrenn watched him go. An odd choice of words, he thought. Given that the air beneath these choking clouds was anything but fresh.
At dawn Tayschrenn emerged from his tent to see his two minders waiting outside. He eyed them rather perplexed. ‘You are not coming, surely?’
‘Of course,’ Missy answered. ‘It’s our assignment.’
Ute added his own fierce nod.
Tayschrenn stalked off. Ridiculous! He found Dancer and the Sword waiting at the edge of camp, together with their two guides. ‘Order these two to remain,’ he told the Sword.
Dassem looked the two troopers up and down; the ghost of a smile passed his lips. ‘’Fraid I don’t have the authority.’
‘You don’t—’ He looked to Dancer. ‘You, then. Tell these two to remain.’
Dancer shared a glance with the Sword; he shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t meddle in any military orders.’
Tayschrenn looked from one to the other. He was missing something here – he was certain of it. Something involving what many referred to as soldier’s humour. A thought struck then, and he found himself wondering: perhaps he was missing something much greater, something even more foundational.
He turned and regarded Ute and Missy, cleared his throat. ‘I want you two – that is, I would like you two to remain.’
The two exchanged glances. Ute screwed up his face, chagrined. ‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
Missy frowned, appearing almost hurt. ‘Well … if you say so.’
Tayschrenn nodded to them. ‘Good. We will return shortly.’ He did not add: if they were to return at all.
He found Dancer and the Sword eyeing him as they began the march. ‘You sent them off,’ Dancer observed.
‘How?’ Dassem asked.
‘I asked them.’
Dancer nodded to himself as he walked. ‘Ah, I see. Imagine that.’
Now Tayschrenn frowned, uncomfortable. There was certainly something here. Something he was missing.
* * *
‘Is it just me,’ observed Creel, the first mate, ‘or is that mountain getting a lot closer?’
‘As I said,’ the Thelomen giant Koroll answered, ‘it is moving towards us even as we move towards it.’
‘Yeah. That was what I thought you said. But I just kinda thought it was an exaggeration. Not the real honest to the gods truth of it – if you know what I mean.’
As they walked along the hillocked grassy plain, Cartheron looked to the thick deck of cloud cover overhead. Then he eyed the great smoking bulk ahead. ‘Maybe we should give that a wider berth,’ he called to Koroll.
Glancing back, the giant nodded as he shambled along. ‘Very well.’ He struck a more easterly course.
‘I see no scouts or hunting parties,’ Jill murmured, looking concerned.
‘He’s there,’ Cartheron assured her. ‘Just far to the south, no doubt. Giving things a careful margin.’ He called ahead to Koroll, ‘What of the K’Chain? Seen any? Should we pull away further?’
A shake of the shaggy head. ‘No. It seems they have all withdrawn to their home. They may be preparing it.’
‘Preparing for what?’ Creel asked.
‘For the catastrophe ahead. If it keeps advancing, it will strike the waters of Lure Sea. Even onwards towards Cabil Isle.’
‘Cabil Isle?’ Geddin the steersman called out. ‘Isn’t that the Falaran capital ’n all?’
The Thelomen gave a long thoughtful nod. ‘I believe so.’
‘Could that be deliberate?’ Jill asked.
Pondering that, Cartheron shook his head. ‘Don’t think so. This thing’s route was probably set out long ago. Anyway, no matter where it strikes or passes, it will be as our friend here says – a catastrophe.’
‘You have the right of that,’ Koroll rumbled.
‘Well,’ The Nose opined, chewing on a stalk of grass, ‘if ol’ one-arm’s gonna do anything, it’ll have to be real soon. I give this thing another few days at the rate it’s goin’.’
Glancing back, Koroll frowned, troubled. ‘Yes. Perhaps we should increase our pace.’
The Nose appeared annoyed. ‘Well – can’t you just magic us over there? Y’know – snap your fingers and such?’
The giant rumbled a laugh. ‘I would not be so quick to raise the ire of the K’Chain Che’Malle by using Thelomen magics here on their very doorstep. We have not been visited by them – let us not test the matter.’
The Nose rolled his eyes and grumbled.
Cartheron gestured for everyone to step up their pace – which was quick already as they strove to keep up with Koroll.
* * *
Aided by the few youths left behind on board the Glimmer, on her third dive of the day Gianna managed to manoeuvre close to the base of the assemblage of jagged tall rocks. Reaching that relatively sheltered region of the shoal’s floor was nearly impossible as the very barrier of the stones intensified the surrounding currents. Yet these selfsame currents also slowed behind the barrier and over the centuries had continuously deposited layers of sand and debris.
She brought lines down with her and tied off a guide-rope to follow back and forth, then set to work feeling about the gathered sediments. The bank here was thick – the deepest she’d ever encountered. Thankfully, the dragging currents surrounding her yanked away the sands as swiftly as she disturbed them.
Digging was slow, and tiring; she found she could stay down only a fraction of her usual time. This meant even more wasted time climbing and descending the guide-ropes.
On her third descent her extended fingertips, pushing down through the layers, encountered something relatively smooth and broad – not a natural feature of the local coral or rock.
It took two further descents to clear away enough of the sand and detritus to reach the object, and her heart leapt when she saw a barnacle-encrusted flat panel beneath her – one side of a manufactured object, whole, and obviously very old. She kicked her way upwards as swiftly as she dared.
She broke surface, a hand firm on her guide-rope against the pulling currents, and took hold of the rope ladder at the side of the Glimmer.
‘There’s definitely something there,’ she called up to Brevin and Torva, both anxiously peering over the rail.
‘Could be anything,’ Torva answered.
Gianna tamped down on her irritation, ‘Yes, I know.’
‘You want a line?’ Brevin asked.
‘Yes. I’ll rig it as best I can then tug to let you know. I want four crew on it – the currents will pull like Togg himself.’
Brevin nodded, called over her shoulder, ‘A strong line here!’
An end was lowered to her. She took it, drew a deep breath, and submerged. She pulled herself down along the guide-rope, ever deeper into the darkening turquoise waters.
It took two more dives to finish the rigging, and daylight was waning. She had to reach under the damned thing to adequately secure it and that took a lot of digging.
Finally, she was satisfied, and pulled strongly on the line. It tautened. The object shifted. Then, in a burst of billowing sands and muck that momentarily blinded her, it rose.
The driving currents snatched at it. The line angled. She ached to help, but if she took hold her own weight would only add to the load. She followed its ascent, kicking lazily.
She broached the surface first, calling, ‘Another line! It’s damned heavy.’
This second rigging she tied while the crew held the object just beneath the surface waves. And it was a box, she could see that clearly, now that it was free of all the years of clinging sediments.
Heaving, the crew hauled it up the side and over. Gianna quickly followed. Everyone gathered round.
‘A damned chest,’ were Brevin’s bemused first words. ‘In all my years treasure-hunting this is the first time it’s ever happened this way. Things are usually spread out all across the bottom.’
‘It’s bronze,’ a sailor announced, poking it with his knife blade.
‘Have to chisel off them barnacles and such,’ Torva opined.
Brevin waved to the crew. ‘Get to it. Hammers and chisels – but gentle-like, okay?’
Gianna came staggering over, exhausted, held up by two sailors, hardly able even to speak. She stared at the chest. This must be it. Jhistal’s Bane. Some way to break it. Perhaps a counter-ritual.
And just in time, too! The new moon must be close. In fact …
