by Drew Wagar
‘You found it? You didn’t make it?’
‘Make it?’ Coran laughed. ‘You think folks such as us could make a ship like this? No lad, we’ve just patched her up best we could.’
‘So you don’t really know how it works …’
‘No means to move, it seemed – the sails were strange and certainly wouldn’t catch the wind! I couldn’t fathom why such a behemoth would be constructed as a barge. It would be impossible to move. I even checked for ports whereby it might be rowed by an insane number of crew, but there was nothing.
‘Mel had the answer of course, she’d been there several rounds and had it all figured out. She took me to the rear of the Mobilis and into the bowels of the ship. There, by the meagre light of burning torches we’d taken with us I saw it.’
‘Saw what?’ Meru was on the edge of his seat, leaning forward across the table.
‘The engine, lad. The Engine. An engine the like of which I can still barely comprehend. This is inventiveness on a scale so astonishing there is nothing of the like in the world today. Cold and dark of course, dripping with moisture and covered in rounds of dirt, silent and dark. It was like a treasure trove of ancient machinery. It’s taken us rounds to figure out how to make it all work again. Whoever our ancestors were they’d tried to preserve the Mobilis as best they could. I’m guessing they intended to come back for her, but they never did. Untold stretches must have passed since she was abandoned.
‘That is our lost legacy Meru. Inside the Mobilis were markings, labels and instructions – some still legible even now, written in our language. That is where we found the instruments – and we’ve yet to understand them all. Our people once had the ability to create such things, they were masters of this ‘tricity, this strange power of the air. We are a poor reflection of that now on Amar, with our simple farms and fishing. Whatever caused our people to give up on all that must have been terrifying in the extreme. The Mobilis, everything on board, is what Mel and I could decipher.’
‘Then you didn’t invent any of this?’
Coran laughed and shook his head. ‘No lad, we’ve just slowly and painfully figured it out piece by piece. Just about got one of the engines working again. And then we found ancient books and the map …’
‘And?’
‘Patience lad. I’m telling this tale,’ Coran smiled at him conspiratorially. ‘The map clearly showed the truth of our origins, the books provided knowledge that had long ago been hidden away. Such knowledge is unwelcome and certainly not for the ears of the public.’
‘You didn’t tell anyone? The Senate doesn’t know?’
Coran laughed. ‘The Senate? Back on Amar? Of course not. The map would be confiscated, locked away. The Senate will not look beyond its borders. Too scared of the past, hoping that if they leave it be it will never return.’
‘And you think it will?’ Meru’s eyes had widened with alarm.
‘Those who ignore the lessons of the past are doomed to repeat them,’ Coran replied, looking away for a moment. ‘The books show that Drayden attacked once before, who’s to say they won’t come after us again? They meant to extinguish all trace of us, of that I’m sure. This is what happened to Nireus in the past, we didn’t see the danger coming until it was too late.’
‘What danger?’
Coran laughed, thumping the table. ‘If I knew that boy, we’d be able to do something about it wouldn’t we?’
‘But you must have some idea …’
Coran grew serious again.
‘No, I have none. But think on this. Drayden’s witches overwhelmed our people despite all this remarkable machinery. What do you think they’d be able to do against us now?’
Meru felt the blood drain from his face.
‘Who’s to say what has happened to Voren and Drayden since the ruin of Nireus, but don’t you think we should know?’ Coran’s eyes were sparkling with excitement.
Meru didn’t answer.
‘Remember the map, Meru,’ Coran said. ‘It wasn’t made or drawn by hand. It is the product of a machine, a process and a technology beyond anything we have today. It also demonstrates knowledge of the world we no longer possess, same as this ship. We couldn’t draw this map even if we wanted to! How was it done? I don’t know! We don’t even understand it fully. Our ancestors catalogued and mapped both the oceans and the lands with ease. That is our inheritance, our legacy as a people. I think we have a duty to reclaim it.’
‘So it is a treasure hunt,’ Meru said, with a wily grin.
Coran gave him a pointed look. ‘But not for treasure, at least not coins and jewels. Knowledge, Meru. Understanding! Imagine where we’d be now if we’d retained what we knew in those times.’
‘So what do you intend to do?’
‘What I’ve always intended,’ Coran said. ‘The reason Mel and I have been trying to get this scorching vessel to work properly. Now you can help us with that. We’re going to find Nireus and rediscover what was lost.’
Meru stared at him for a long moment.
‘But how will you get there? You can’t just sail out to sea, you’ll be lost the moment you lose sight of land.’
‘That’s where you come in, young Meru.’
‘Me?’
‘You’re a timekeeper, you’re schooled. You’ve got the figurings. The ancients were able to draw this map and use it to navigate. Why else it would it be aboard this ship? You’ve got to figure out how they did it. There’s a secret here that needs unlocking.’
Meru’s mouth fell open.
‘And what about Voren and the witches of Drayden?’
Coran rubbed his beard, looking over the map. Then he looked up at Meru and grinned.
‘Well … we’ll be finding out, won’t we? Jump to it, lad!’
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Coastal Forests of Serenia and Varda, on the border with Drayden
Round 2306, Second Pass
The campfire crackled deep in the forests of Serenia. The forest was thick here, the firelight casting long and flickering shadows throughout the tall shades. Around the fire was a small group of travellers. Two hergs stood, slowly flapping their fans and keeping a wary eye on a tired looking carn that lay dozing just at the edge of the light from the fire, its dilated eyes glowing in the gloom.
Accompanying them were two humans, both warming themselves feet first at the fire. One was tall and broad; a man with a tattered dark grey cloak and heavy leather travelling gear contrasting with his light grey hair. An ornate scabbard was fastened at his belt, decorated with heraldic symbols.
His companion was smaller, a young woman with nondescript and slightly wavy brown hair, fastened with string at the nape of her neck. She was dressed in a mismatched shirt and breeches that looked several sizes too big for her. She was idly tossing a knife between her hands, spinning and catching the handle each time with some expertise. A makeshift bow and a cluster of arrows lay beside her. Both were talking in hushed voices, as if scared of being overheard.
‘…but why? Why does he want me?’ Zoella demanded.
Ioric rocked back on his behind, stretching his legs.
‘Fear,’ he said, after a moment, watching Zoella’s puzzled face. ‘Yes, fear.’
‘Fear of what?’
‘Fear of an ancient treaty.’ Ioric replied, mysteriously. Zoella gave him a pointed look. Ioric smiled in response. ‘Deep in the lower levels of the library of Viresia are many old scrolls, catalogued and tabulated by scholars long dead. They contain records of times past. Most are dull and tedious; endless columns of figures detailing the harvests, population, tithes and taxes. Yet some … they contain history, accounts of Kings and Queens of long ago, maps of lands known only through tall tales in ale houses.’
‘Go on.’
Ioric smiled at the young girl’s impatience.
‘As a child, I once found my way into that lower level,’ Ioric went on. ‘There were endless shelves of these scrolls, books and writings. An order of secretive cu
stodians looked over them, tending for them; repairing and copying them. They were hidden, hooded and unknown to any others, perhaps they never even emerged from the library – it wouldn’t surprise me. The knowledge contained there was deemed too dangerous to be revealed. Of course, as a boy I was curious and tried to find out.’
‘You got caught,’ Zoella said.
Ioric nodded. ‘Even the King’s son was forbidden. My father took a belt to me that day, I never forgot it. I behaved myself after that.’
‘I wouldn’t have,’ Zoella countered. ‘Bet you went back.’
Ioric grinned at her. ‘Quite right. The trouble was I couldn’t understand what I found; the scrolls were written in a language I did not know. But the maps … those I could appreciate. I even managed to copy one. It was fortunate I did. Not long after, my father closed the lower levels completely, walling them up.’
‘What about the custodians?’ Zoella asked, wide eyed.
‘I never saw them again,’ Ioric said softly. ‘I often wonder if they were killed, or simply sealed in to die in the darkness.’
Ioric saw Zoella shiver.
‘Why that happened I do not know, but I overheard two things; a word and a phrase, repeated a number of times, always with a sense of fear and danger in hasty whispered conversations. The word I found quickly, the phrase has been puzzling me for rounds.’
‘What was the word?’
Ioric licked his lips. ‘The word is Drayden.’
Zoella looked at him. ‘Drayden? What does that mean?’
Ioric had been watching her intently as if expecting something.
‘It doesn’t it mean anything to you?’ he asked.
Zoella shook her head. ‘No, I’ve never heard of it before. Is it important?’
Ioric sighed.
I had hoped for another clue …
‘Drayden is a place. A land far to the sunward. Men are sent on patrol to the edge of our realm, to where the land of Drayden lies. Once every five rounds twenty young women and girls are sent to Varda, a border town, by order of the King. Even to question this duty is severely punishable, men are sworn to silence and killed if they speak. I have broken such an oath telling this to you.’
‘But why?’
Ioric shook his head. ‘I do not know. All I do know is that girls and young women are taken from towns and cities in Scallia. They are sent to Varda to be taken into Drayden …’
‘And?’
‘They never return.’
Zoella swallowed.
‘What lies in Drayden?’ she asked in a whisper. ‘There must be something dreadful.’
‘There are no longer scholars that know the detail,’ Ioric said with a sigh. ‘None that would speak now anyway and it is not permissible to venture there. It seems that Drayden was a province of the Voren empire long ago, but there was some kind of uprising, a war perhaps. It is said that witches receive the tithe.’
‘Witches!’
Ioric shrugged. ‘I have not seen them myself. What I do know is that my father is terrified at the very thought of the place. Records are expunged, mere mention of it is punishable by imprisonment, torture or death and yet this … tithe of women continues. A single stretch of woe each fifth round. The next one is nearly due.’
He saw her shiver again.
‘What was the phrase you heard?’
‘It’s a strange one, it may mean nothing,’ Ioric replied. ‘Some kind of ancient curse perhaps. I don’t know.’
‘What was it?’
Ioric looked Zoella in the eye. ‘Lacaille darkens.’
Zoella blanched. Ioric saw the colour drain from her face in moments. She gasped and jolted back in surprise.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Don’t say that. Please don’t!’
Ioric was leaning towards her. ‘What does it mean? What do you know?’
‘Don’t ask me!’
‘You know something,’ Ioric continued, pressing forward. ‘What have you heard? This is important, girl! What do you know?’
‘I don’t know anything!’ Zoella said, tears coming to her eyes. ‘It’s just …’
‘Just what?’ Ioric demanded.
‘A dream,’ Zoella said. ‘A nightmare, a horrible horrible nightmare! No one would listen, they all laughed, no one believed me …’
‘You must tell me,’ Ioric said, grabbing her arm.
‘No … I won’t!’
She pulled away, dissolved into tears, pulling her knees up and dropping her head between them. Muffled sobs came out from under her hair. Ioric backed off, annoyed with himself for pushing her.
She’s only a young woman you fool. Remember what she’s been through! Earn her trust and give her time …
‘Zoella, I’m sorry,’ he began again, his voice soft. ‘I promise I will believe you. I’ve been searching for an answer for this riddle for a long time. I will not laugh at what you tell me.’
He looked up, her face tear-streaked.
‘Swear it. Swear you won’t laugh at me.’
Ioric studied her for a moment. Her face was set and determined in a way that only young girls could manage. He knew well enough he’d get nowhere unless he complied.
‘I swear as a Prince of the realm,’ Ioric said, solemnly. ‘I will not laugh at you Zoella late of Tarq’s hall.’
She scrutinised him carefully for a moment.
‘It started as a dream,’ she began, still watching him. ‘But it quickly became a nightmare. It happened many times, always the same dream, always the same ending. I’m walking in the fields sunwards of Tarq’s hall. It’s the same as ever. Hergs in the fields, marsips scurrying for food. The forest is before me, with Lacaille high in the sky; a wonderful day. No rain, no clouds. I’m happy to be there.
‘But then it appears. A black spot on Lacaille, not like Mayura, it’s bigger, darker and growing. I can see it crawling across Lacaille, as if it’s eating it! It’s horrible. It’s cold now, the wind blows chill and strong, strange flecks of white fall through the air, like ash from a fire, but freezing cold.’
Ioric frowned at her description, thinking hard.
Snow? Perhaps in the far shadeward yes, but here in Scallia? Unheard of! Yet she accurately describes what she can never have seen …
‘The blackness grows,’ Zoella said, her voice wavering uncertainly. ‘It won’t stop, it gets worse and worse, covering Lacaille like a sickness, until there is nothing left. It goes black. Lacaille is nothing but a ghost in the sky, a pale ring of fire. The animals around me are shrieking with fear in the dark.’
Zoella’s eyes were wide, but they were staring at nothing as she remembered.
‘There are these lights in the sky, impossible lights, tiny lights. Little pinpricks in the darkness, all around. The ring of fire seems to reach down to the ground and then …’
Ioric could see Zoella was trembling. He wanted to reach out to reassure her, but he didn’t dare interrupt her tale.
‘Heat, horrible burning heat,’ Zoella cried. ‘I smell smoke and before me the forest bursts into flame, animals running past me. The dry grass around me starts to kindle. I turn and run …’
Tears dripped down her face.
‘I’m running, my legs hurt. I can feel the heat, it’s too hot … my clothes start to burn and …’
She stopped, looking up at Ioric with fear-widened eyes.
‘Yes?’ Ioric asked.
‘That’s when I wake up,’ Zoella said, drawing deep breath.
Ioric sat back and thought for a moment.
‘How often have you had this nightmare of yours?’ he asked.
‘It’s not mine,’ Zoella said. ‘I don’t want it, I didn’t ask for it! It keeps coming back on its own.’
‘How many times?’
‘Too many,’ Zoella said, with a pout. ‘And it comes back quicker each time. I wish it would go away. Do you know what it means?’
Ioric considered what he’d heard for a moment.
‘It seems plain enough to me
it’s some kind of warning,’ he said. ‘To flee shadewards perhaps? I do not know.’
Zoella drew in a shuddering breath.
‘But what I do know is that the answer has been quite deliberately hidden,’ Ioric continued. ‘It’s this dream that caused those men to search you out. I heard that phrase a number of times, always with an undercurrent of fear and danger, always associated with Drayden. Those who knew something about it were silenced with money, titles or land, or simply disappeared one day. The mere mention of it is forbidden. Whenever it is found, it is stamped out. The King has ordered this.’
‘They were sent to find me because of a dream?’
Ioric nodded. ‘This dream, Drayden and my father’s fears. They are all connected somehow.’
‘But why? And how did they find me?’
Ioric rocked back again, stretching his legs. ‘That’s where your guardian comes in. Come, let us eat before we continue this tale.’
Zoella sat forward, rubbing at her face to clear the tears.
They made up the fire and Ioric broke out some salted meats and dried tupes, corcuns and melps from his pack. He even had a few sweetbuds, carefully wrapped in fine linen.
‘No more of those I’m afraid,’ he said. Zoella had only eaten them once before. They were a rare delicacy.
So sweet and juicy!
‘You were telling me about my guardian,’ she prompted.
‘Aye. It seems there was a man who knew more about this dream and the land of Drayden than others did,’ Ioric continued. ‘He appears to have been a man of some means. He hid young girls in various places throughout Scallia for reasons known only to him, paying for their keep in advance. I’ve heard many stories about children being found when they began to tell people about strange dreams – they all had the same theme, Lacaille darkening and fire spreading throughout the land. All had a mysterious guardian in their past.’
