by P. D. Kalnay
The sun hung low on the sea-filled horizon, and the sunward peaks cast long shadows across the island’s interior. Below me sat the rooftops of the city of Havensport. It was hard to tell much about the city from where I stood, except that it was big, circled half the harbour, and most of the buildings had collapsed. The jagged remains of a dozen long wharfs pushed out into the harbour. Only one appeared intact. I saw nine ships docked there. I couldn’t determine anything about their design, or size, from so far away. Rising up from the shoreline, pretty much everywhere else, were patchwork terraces cut into the mountainsides. A few, close to the city, were planted with crops in neat rows, but the vast majority were covered in forest, or brush… or were entirely black. Even from high above, it was obvious that Knight’s Haven had seen better days. Those days were in the distant past.
As I considered the place, and steeled myself for hours of downward climbing, I felt something move inside my tunic. After giving a small (but manly) shriek, I reached inside the folds of cloth, discovering the butterfly hair clips. They flapped like real butterflies, and I gently extracted them from the inner pocket. The butterflies looked the same as they had at Gran’s house. What was new—was the coming-to-life part. I peered at my creations, holding the flapping jewellery close on the palm of my open hand. They looked unchanged, but more real at the same time. Rainbow wings fluttered, black antennae wiggled, and little metal feet tickled my palm. Then they were gone. As one, the hair clips lifted off from my hand and flew out over the edge of the platform. I reached out, trying to catch them, and nearly killed myself. Down and away the hair clips flew. Before long, the tiny metallic insects were too far away to see. I stared after them, shocked and disappointed. I still had no idea what sort of enchantments the butterflies had. It looked as though I wouldn’t find out. With a heavier heart, I began the long downward climb.
It was easier going down the stairs than up. Although I felt tired, I kept my eyes peeled for the door to the main level. Thousands of steps later, I arrived at that door. It was a big door, and I’d climbed right past it. The red light made it hard to be sure, but I thought the door was made from black wood. It may have just been really dark brown. The place could use better lighting, I thought. The door opened silently with a gentle push. I stepped into a room with actual light coming through a long row of tall, unglazed windows. Carved from the stone of the mountain, the room looked more finished than the smithy or the stairwell. The room spread impressively wide, and ran, curving off out of view, into the distance. Deep windows followed the contour of the mountain’s slope outside. I looked out the nearest window and saw the highest roofs of the city of Havensport. It lay only a few hundred feet below the workshop. Leaning out, I saw no sign of the mountain slope, meaning there was either a sheer drop below, or that the room hung out over the city.
Marielain’s workshop was incredible. It had a high vaulted ceiling and had been filled with endless wonders. Items of every kind, many looking only half-built, filled the room. Most were so strange that I had no clue what they were, but, here and there, I spotted things with familiar shapes. There was a giant half-built ballista, what was unquestionably a primitive wood-and-canvas flying machine (I wouldn’t have ridden in it), and an enormous silver mirror that rose up thirty feet—almost to the ceiling. I could have spent a lifetime in that room (and probably had), but Ivy waited, so I forced myself to walk the outer edge, doing my best to turn a blind eye to the marvels it contained. By the time I made it to the far end of the room, my hands had developed a twitch. When things were settled, and Ivy safe… I’d be coming back.
A tall open doorway at the far end led to a hallway. The hallway was wide enough to drive a truck down, which made sense since a lot of the things in the workshop were large. Two massive iron doors stood at the closest end of the hallway. Mr. Ryan had described the place, so I knew I’d reached the main entrance. A smaller door stood shut at the other end of the hall. There lay the private chambers, and, what had been for centuries, the home of Marielain Blackhammer. I was itching to go to his/my old home to poke around, but Ivy might be in danger at that very moment, so I turned to the massive doors instead. They showed no sign of handle or latch, and based on the hinges, swung inward. I examined them closely trying to find a hidden catch that I might trip. The doors themselves were inscribed with the same kinds of symbols I’d added to a number of items I’d made. Forcing myself to think calmly, I asked myself how I’d lock magic doors. Assuming, I was going to make some. Then it occurred to me that the red symbols on the walls below had responded to my simple desire for light.
Standing back, to give them room, I wished the doors open.
The doors swung back, stopping flush with the walls of the hallway. They let in a swirling gust of wind that blew gritty dust into my eyes. The wide landing on the other side of the doors was covered in debris. Closer inspection showed it to be rotting timbers, the rusty head of a sledgehammer, and an old, bent pry bar. Somebody had tried to get in. By the looks of things… a very long time ago. I stepped over the rubbish and turned back to the doors. As easily as wishing them shut, those doors swung closed again. I could get used to this, I thought. Past the landing, and down a few dozen steps, the wide stairway swung to the right, and I got my first good look at Havensport. The stairway was cut into the steep cliff face behind the city. It was wide enough for six of me. I hugged the cliff side as I went down. It was becoming apparent that things like safety railings hadn’t made it to Ivy’s world yet. Compared to climbing the spiral staircase, the stairs to the city were nothing—a mere four or five hundred steps. By the time I got to the bottom, I felt staired-out.
The stairs ended at a broad stone arch. That arch sat at the top of a steep, cobbled street. Crumbling buildings lined the street. Havensport was built against the inner slope of the crescent, not unlike a lot of cities on the Mediterranean. Which was right where the comparison ended. Most of those cities are sparkling, whitewashed places with cheery red-tiled roofs. The kinds of places (movies had taught me) that middle-aged women travelled to, during a mid-life crises. Havensport wasn’t like that. All the building’s I saw were built from the black rock of the island, and the roofs (where they still existed) were either dark green tarnished copper or some other silvery metal. With an army to polish them, the rooftops could have shone. The streets were paved with the same dark stone. Although the remaining buildings looked ornate, and were decorated with carvings and statuary, it was all quite dreary.
The arch stood at the upper edge of the city, and I took a short break, sitting on the bottom step. I knew Ivy was somewhere on the island. I also knew, based on the ships in the harbour, that other people were around too. Not knowing who they were, I’d need to be careful in my search for Ivy. If it had just been the two of us, I could have lit a signal fire and made as much noise as possible. With the way things stood… I needed to be a lot stealthier.
Chapter 15 – Into the City
Ivy told me days and nights on the First World lasted as long as those I was familiar with. Finding her on the island would be hard in the daytime; at night, it would be impossible. My flashlight had stayed behind, and I knew I’d come to miss it. A loud rumble emanated from my stomach as I stood. I missed food already.
Ivy had described Knight’s Haven as a small island in the middle of the Endless Sea. That was true… relatively speaking. The island was less than twenty miles in diameter, and if it had been flat, and had a straight path existed, a person could have walked across in half a day, no problem. Knight’s Haven wasn’t flat, nothing, including the city streets, ran straight, and, although the place had the normal compass directions, the two most common directions I encountered were up and down. They were usually followed by more up or more down.
Mr. Ryan’s description had given me a pretty good idea about the layout of Havensport. The city was divided into three main terraces. Each contained many lesser (and random) terraces. The highest level consisted of a long arc of vast estates, pres
sed up against the mountain’s inner slopes. According to Mr. Ryan, each estate had been held by an officer of the Order. Each contained a palatial house, well-kept grounds, and was surrounded by low stone walls to mark its boundaries. I’d come down from Marielain’s workshop at the western end of that arc. The low stone walls were still partly intact, but the manor houses were little more than tumbled ruins. Scrub grass and scorched earth were all that remained of the gardens that had once surrounded them. It looked as though Merian Silver Mantle had been thorough in her repeated burning of the place.
I walked along one edge of the wide curving boulevard that fronted the former estates. Mostly destroyed remains of shops and homes stood opposite the low stone walls to my right. Although the sun had climbed high in the sky above, and the day was bright and clear, the city was dark and depressing. It would require an unimaginable amount of work to make any of it liveable again. I saw no sign of the raiders as I walked from the westward end of the boulevard to the middle of Havensport. That wasn’t surprising, given the state of the place. If there’d been anything worth taking, it was long gone. Periodically, I’d get another view of the harbour through a gap in the ruins. The place was eerily silent, not counting the wind. I still moved with caution. There were nine ships docked below.
One unscathed building stood at the midpoint of the curving boulevard. It was huge and built from the same dark stone as everything else. It looked like a vast cathedral. I knew exactly where I was. The grounds around the meeting hall of the Order were as devastated as the rest of the place, but the building itself looked like the sole random survivor of a World War II bombing run. After looking around, I walked up the wide steps to the massive front doors. The doors were locked. They didn’t open with any amount of wishing or tugging. I circled the structure and tried the smaller doors. The whole place had been locked tight. Nobody answered my knocking either. I supposed it would’ve been too easy for Ivy to have been hiding inside. Sir Andriel had said that he believed she’d be locked out of the hall when the last of the fae left the island. It looked as if he’d been right.
Back at the front doors, I looked out over the city. It was a commanding view. I now stood at the end of the main road running from shoreline to hall. I felt daunted by the task ahead of me. Everything was bigger than I’d imagined, and I had no decent plan for finding Ivy. Possibly, when the raiders left, I could light a signal fire and hope she saw it. Not knowing if she was safe, or exactly when they’d be leaving, I couldn’t afford to wait.
I started down the main street of the city of Havensport. Back in the day, it had contained high-end shops, embassies, and places to eat and drink. Now, it was mostly rubble, but I saw the bones of once-fancy buildings. Most of what I’d seen so far had resembled a tightly packed mediaeval city. If I’d squinted my eyes—I might have been able to convince myself that that was the case. A closer look at any of if it, destroyed the fantasy. Walls still standing, were frequently carved with strange symbols or figures, and the few statues that remained, had a very mythological quality to them. The weird thing was, I knew in my gut that they were more likely to be actual historical figures than creatures drawn from the imaginations of the sculptors. Some of the buildings themselves were strangely shaped, resembling the hives of bees or the shells of sea creatures. I’d been told that Havensport had once been a cosmopolitan city, with people from across the First World living there. Walking through the ruins… I could believe it.
The road switched back and forth, traversing the middle terrace of homes and businesses. At each turn, I looked for sign of Ivy, or anyone else. The bottom level of the city contained the port, along with markets both covered and uncovered. Most of that level had historically been filled with warehouses. According to Sir Andriel, it still was.
The warehouses near the pier looked like… warehouses. Long, wide, boxy buildings intended to maximise storage space. They were lower than warehouses I’d seen before, but I figured that made sense in a world without cranes or forklifts. They also showed the first signs of repair work that I’d seen in the city so far. Their roofs looked new in many places, and stonework had been visibly repaired, or replaced, on all of them. Even the wide wooden doors, on most of the warehouses, looked relatively new. It was the first rubble-free part of the city I’d seen.
The wide road ended at the one intact pier. Through the buildings, I could see parts of the ships docked there. Those ships were far bigger than I’d realised. Once, on a school trip, I’d toured some tall ships. None had been anywhere near the size of the docked sailing vessels. Ivy said that substantial stores were needed to cross the Endless Sea, and that only the largest ships could do so. The ships docked at the pier were enormous containership versions of sailboats. I figured you’d need a lot of sailors to crew those ships. Even as that thought occurred to me, I heard voices coming from around the corner. They were right around the corner. With as much stealth as I could muster, I took two steps back and eased through a hole in the wall beside me. There was an open doorway further back, but I’d never reach it in time. Hidden in the shadows, I got my first look at the raiders.
Two short, green, knobbly jointed people, carrying an improbably large wooden crate, came past the corner and stopped. Both wore short sailcloth tunics, but they were bare otherwise, right down to their clawed feet. Even without Ivy’s description, I’d have recognised goblins when I saw them. The Green Goblin of Spiderman fame wasn’t too far off, all things considered. The rear goblin let his end of the huge box fall to the ground and stepped back. This flung the guy in front forward, and his end also fell with a loud thud. He turned angrily to his companion, rubbing his wrist.
“What do you think yer doin?” he demanded.
“Takin a breather,” the rear goblin said. “If I’d wanted to work like a scaln, I coulda stayed in the mines. We havena had a rest in two days.”
“No time for restin,” the front goblin said. “We may never see a score like this agin. Stop bein such a tulp. And the next time you want to drop the load, you be tellin me first!”
The goblin’s voices were high pitched and raspy at the same time.
“Did you just call me a tulp?”
The rear goblin looked ready to rumble.
“Tulps is as tulps does, says I.”
The first goblin came around the crate with fists clenched.
“Call me tulp… one more time,” he said softly.
“I thought ya was atired? If you’ve the strength to fight, ya can pick the box back up.”
“And now yer the Captain’s wee lad, are ya? If ya weren’t me mother’s sister’s cousin…”
“Even then, I don’t like yer chances.” The front goblin laughed. “Think o’the geld. And the spendin of it.”
“Bah,” the rear goblin moved to the back end of the crate again. “We’d be finished already, and the holds full, if the Captain hadn’t set the ogres off after that little girl. Only reason we brought those grey scaln along was fer the heavy liften.” He kicked the crate.
Little girl? They might be talking about Ivy.
“I’d rather be doin this than huntin that fae welp,” the front goblin said. “Ya saw how the First Mate and the Pilot died, didna ya? Carry’n boxes seems a fine deal next to that.”
“They shoulda left well enough alone. Those as gets careless, deserves whats they get. Captain’s wastin time looken to get even. We’ll have to smell those ogres the whole way back too… and do the carryin.”
“Ya wants yer share, don’t ya?”
“Oh aye, ya can be sure I’ll be gettin me share.”
The front goblin moved to pick up his end of the crate again.
“Then ya’ll have to do yer share o’the liftin,” he said.
“Bah!”
Crate hoisted once more, the two turned down the wide road and headed for the pier. Hidden by shadow, I watched them go. It sounded as though Ivy had been in a confrontation with the raiders, and that they were hunting her. They haven’t found her
, I told myself. I just need to find her first. Ivy had told me about ogres. They were one of the many intelligent races that inhabited the First World. Ogres sounded a little like trolls to me. They were huge, grey, and had skin that was second only to dragons when it came to impenetrability. Ivy had said that they were frequently hired as muscle for jobs not requiring much skill or delicacy. Worry—over Ivy’s safety—drove me from the abandoned building and back out into the light.
Chapter 16 – Narrow Escapes
Ivy probably wouldn’t be hiding on the part of the island where the raiders were most likely to be. I figured she wouldn’t be hiding in the city at all. The two arms of the island rose up and away, curving both east and west. Countless terraces of crops, scrub, and scraggly forest filled them, almost to the peaks. A few small, cascading streams sparkled high in the distance on the eastern arm. Mr. Ryan had said that in his day, a complex irrigation system fed the tiers of crops, and that the island had been lush with vegetation. Some of that water was still flowing. There was no way to guess which side of the island Ivy might be hiding on. My incredibly dry mouth… suggested searching the eastern arm first.
I turned east down the road the two goblins had come from, intending to cut back, higher up into the city, at the first opportunity. The port terrace seemed like the riskiest place to be. According to what I’d been told, nine roads traversed the main levels of the city, including the one I’d come down. I planned to head up the next road over and then make my way out of Havensport. Unfortunately, when I reached the intersection, the crossroad was completely blocked. It was filled with collapsed building. Not having seen any more raiders, I decided to try for the next road. That one wasn’t blocked—which was good. The pack of raiders coming up the road from below, just when I got there… not good.
A dozen assorted fairy-tale creatures shouted, dropped the loot they were carrying, and raced up the hill towards me. I wanted to take a better look at the mix of races charging me, but it seemed like a good time to run. I turned at the intersection and began a frantic climb back up into the middle terraces. Thankfully, the road was passable, though plenty of rubble lined the sides. A horn blasted behind me. Answering horns sounded in the distance. So much for stealth. I could hear shouting, and footfalls on the cobblestones behind me, but I didn’t look back. I focused on running faster. As I made a tight turn around the first switchback, I heard something smash off a wall beside me. I glanced back to see a fist sized rock rolling away from the wall. My pursuers were temporarily out of sight around the bend. I raised my shield behind my head and tried to run faster. Not having eaten, or drunk anything, in a while—I was tiring quickly. I heard renewed shouting as the raiders rounded the bend.
