"Where on the ships will we be guaranteed to find tools to make fire?" Miro asked the closest.
"The captain's cabin, sir. It'll be locked though."
"We can break down the doors," Amber said.
"Right. I'll take five men, you take another five. But, Amber…"
"What is it?"
"Be ready to flee. When they storm the city, it'll happen faster than you can imagine."
50
"LORD REGENT, we must order the men out to fight the mob," the Tingaran captain said.
"They'll storm the palace," said an Alturan officer.
Rogan Jarvish cursed.
He'd gone out to speak with the crowd, but with nothing to add to his promises that things would be better, his words hadn't had any effect. He could hear the shouts now, rising up from Imperial Square, loud and angry.
"The Evermen will return!"
"Why should an Alturan rule Tingara?"
"The Assembly of Templars is not evil!"
"When will the essence return?"
Rogan paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists with every stride. "I can't countenance slaughter," he said. "And to what end? If they see blood, they'll tear down the gates."
"They'll tear down the gates anyway," the Alturan officer said bluntly. "This is a mob. They can't be reasoned with."
Rogan looked at Amelia, sitting tensed on a chair, looking at him with trepidation.
"Send my wife and son to safety," he suddenly said.
"We can't. Until we clear the grounds around the palace we're stuck here."
Rogan swore again.
He thought back to the past few weeks and wondered what he could have done differently. Since the attack on Miro's wedding, nothing had gone right in Seranthia. Back before the madness of Primate Melovar Aspen, the leader of the Assembly of Templars would have soothed a crowd like this, speaking of virtue and sacrifice. Rogan was no speaker, nor was he a religious man. He thought in terms of supply and strength, logistics and fortification.
He also couldn't send soldiers to battle against civilians. He knew if he sent his men out to subdue the crowd, stones would fly, swords would be drawn, and bloodshed would follow. It was inevitable.
"Could we send out soldiers without swords?"
"I'm not sending my men out there unarmed," the Tingaran said.
"Nor I," said the Alturan.
"Scratch it!" Rogan cursed. He couldn't argue with them though. These officers had the safety of their men in mind.
"What's that rattle?" Amelia asked.
"They're shaking the gates," said the Tingaran.
"By the Lord of the Earth's name, Rogan, you have to do something," Amelia said. "You've tried talking to them. Send out your men."
"I can't!" Rogan cried. "I won't have all that blood on my hands."
Amelia stood and walked towards him. "I know," she said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's why you're the man I love. We'll just wait and pray."
51
SMOKE poured from four ships lying docked in Emirald's great harbour. Fire blazed from a fifth, and the ocean breeze fanned the flames so that a sixth vessel caught fire of its own accord.
Yet there were thousands of ships. Miro cursed. They weren't moving quickly enough.
Several great warships loaded with the women and children of Emirald had now left, sails raised hurriedly and massive bulks lumbering along under too little wind.
There was no way to tell how the defenders at the walls were faring, but the screams and clashes of weapons could be heard across the harbour. It was now early afternoon. Miro wondered if Emirald could hold longer than a day, when Wengwai had not. Commodore Deniz's words to the defenders must have had their intended effect.
The Veldrin soldiers were no longer fighting a lost cause; they were now fighting to give their loved ones time to escape.
Finally, as the sun began to fall towards the horizon, the powder kegs began to arrive at the harbour.
Miro, Amber, and the sailors helping them destroy the vessels no longer had to work in teams. Now all it took was a barrel of black powder placed at a particular part of the hold. A trail of powder made a clumsy fuse. It was dangerous work, and already they'd lost a man whose keg had detonated early. But the pace picked up, and as the heat of the burning ships intensified, the fire began to do the work on its own. The ships were crowded so close together that they began to leave those close to the flames alone.
Soon, more than a hundred ships were burning.
Miro wiped sweat from his forehead as he scanned the dock to find his next target. His face was black with soot and a patch on his arm was burned red and raw. In the distance, he saw the masts of three more ships moving along as still more women and children made their way to safety.
He could see them on the dock, crowds of confused people milling around as the sailors tried to get them into order. Someone had realised they would need provisions, and barrels were being rolled along, taking valuable men away from helping Miro destroy the vessels. Miro couldn't blame them. It was natural for the sailors to work to save more of their people and ensure they arrived at their destination in safety. Hampering the efforts of those who would follow was secondary to the men of Veldria.
Miro selected his target, a large merchantman, dwarfing the two ships on either side. He sprinted along the waterfront and grabbed one of the powder kegs, seeing there were only three more left. He swore; the men who had been bringing the small barrels down from the catacombs must have decided their efforts were needed elsewhere.
Concussive booms sounded as more vessels were destroyed, mingling with the battle cries drifting down from the walls. As he scampered along from ship to ship in a row, finally bringing him to the high deck of the merchantman, Miro searched for Amber but couldn't see her; she must be deep in one of the holds.
He was growing adept now at finding the shortest path to the hold, and soon he was placing the powder keg near the stern of the ship, deep between the ribs of the vessel, in a place dry and confined. He struck a match — still amazed at the simplicity of the invention — and touched it to the trail of black powder leading to the mouthpiece of the laid-down keg.
The powder sparked and hissed, sending a trail of smoke into the air. Miro carefully walked backwards, checking that the fire was travelling down the line, and then turned and ran.
He reached the open deck as the powder keg blew.
The merchantman shuddered like a creature in pain. For good measure Miro took some scraps of wood and paper he'd brought from a pocket and started a small fire on the deck, where the flames would hopefully catch onto the sails.
From his vantage Miro saw Commodore Deniz racing along the waterfront. Deniz caught sight of him and waved an arm. "We need to go. Now!"
Miro ran back along the row of ships until he was back on the dock. He took hold of Deniz's arm. "What's happening?"
"The walls have fallen. We're loading the last ship, and if you're not on it, we'll leave without you."
Miro scanned the rows of ships, searching for Amber. The smoke from the blazing vessels made it hard to see. "I have to find my wife. How will I know the ship?"
"It's my ship, the Seekrieger. You've seen it before. It's tied at the northern pier. Hurry!"
Miro ran in the opposite direction to Deniz, his eyes roving over every vessel, peering through the clouds of smoke, desperately looking for the familiar figure.
There she was!
"Amber!" Miro cried.
Amber was sprinting along the deck of a great warship, tied midway along a row of other vessels. Miro felt a jolt of fear when he saw she wasn't aware of the flames at both ends of the row. She was trapped.
A detonation sounded from deep in the warship as Amber's powder keg blew. Choosing a direction, Amber climbed over to the next ship in the row, not realising that after four more ships was a conflagration of flames.
"Amber!" Miro called again.
He turned as he he
ard an eerie roar: a guttural scream of triumph. The enemy would be pouring into the city. Every male between the ages of fourteen and sixty had died to give them this time.
Miro saw the first revenants rush into the harbour as Amber finally heard his cries.
52
KILLIAN'S eyes burned with unshed tears. He saw the man who had been his father slump down, as if ready to rest now that he'd shed a heavy burden.
Lord Aidan had just told Killian that his mother was Emperor Xenovere's sister. He also thought she may still be alive. The revenant didn't know.
Killian stepped forward. Taking the revenant by the shoulders he shook him. "You must know where she is! Why did she abandon me? Is she dead or isn't she?"
Lord Aidan's fists suddenly clenched at his sides.
He straightened and looked at Killian with eyes that had shifted from white to pink, and even as Killian looked on, the whites were filling with blood, turning entirely red.
A shudder went through the revenant's body. Killian took two steps back.
Then a series of shrieks came from behind. Turning, Killian saw dozens of wraiths descending from the sky, screeching and filled with hate. Claws outstretched, teeth bared, they would strike Ella in moments.
Killian opened his mouth to call to her, pointing at the sky, when he felt hands go around his neck.
Eyes wide with shock, Killian saw that the revenant's teeth were bared and his nose was twisted in a snarl. The visible runes on his neck and hands had shifted hue, and were now bright red. The strength in the revenant's arms was incredible.
Aidan pushed harder and a growl came from his throat. Killian gasped and choked.
He heard Ella chanting behind him and a whoosh was followed by the screech of a wraith in pain. Even against the pain of the revenant's grip Killian's mind jumped from thought to thought. Could he destroy his own father? Could Ella survive against so many?
Killian wheeled his arms, smashing them down on the revenant's wrists with the iron strength of his enhanced body behind the blow. The runes on the dead man's wrists and hands flared crimson and purple, but his terrible grip held fast.
Killian panicked. His chest heaved as his body tried to suck air from his closed throat. He'd never encountered strength like this before. Unless he fought back with all his power, the revenant would kill him.
He saw Ella retreating in the direction of the stone archway. Wraiths swooped at her head, deflected by the raised hood of her dress, but Killian could see she was struggling. The prism-tipped wand she held in her hand was fainter than Killian remembered. The bolts shooting from it in quick succession were smaller and hurt the wraiths less when they hit.
Ella stopped when her back was at the archway. Dozens of wraiths came at her all at once. Teeth grazed her head while claws scraped at her back. Lightning scattered across the dress, sending three wraiths cowering in pain. Killian wondered how long she could last.
All the while he smashed his arms down on the revenant's wrists again and again. Was there anything of Killian's father left in there?
"Please…" Killian gasped. "Let… go…"
Lord Aidan released a hand from Killian's neck, but the other kept up the incessant squeezing. He drew back a fist and slammed it into Killian's chest, three times in quick succession.
Killian felt ribs snap, waves of pain spreading across his chest. Nothing should have been able to do that to him, not even the strength of a revenant. What was happening?
Lord Aidan was his father. They'd spent the last hours haltingly talking about the man he had been, as much as the revenant could drag forth from his confused memories. Killian couldn't destroy him.
A black wing knocked Ella's arm and she dropped her wand. As she bent to pick it up two wraiths clawed her back, fluttering and scratching like carrion birds on a carcass. She tilted her head back and screamed.
The dress should have stopped them. Ella needed him.
Killian closed his eyes, and a tear trickled down his cheek. He had to do this.
He put his palm to Lord Aidan's chest and gasped an activation sequence.
The revenant's grip on Killian's throat released as he flew backwards through the air, falling against the ground, his head cracking against the stone. Growling, the revenant climbed back to his feet and again glared at Killian with blood-red eyes. He came forward slowly, remorselessly, taking jerky strides like a Halrana construct.
A fist came towards Killian's head. Killian blocked the revenant's arm with his left arm, ducking underneath and putting all his strength into his right arm. The blow smashed into the revenant's sternum with the force of a mountain. Again Lord Aidan flew backwards, and this time when he stood his chest was caved in, the ancient ribs broken and splintered, poking from the dead flesh. But still he came on.
Killian glanced quickly at Ella. She was on her feet again but the wraiths had sensed her weakness, and now pecked and scratched at her, fighting each other to bite at her head and upper body.
The revenant lashed out with hands curled like claws, aiming for Killian's eyes. Killian ducked and rolled, returning to his feet a few paces away. The wraiths twisted through the sky, flying over and around the stone archway. Suddenly the air under the arch solidified and a shimmering curtain appeared.
The beacon sounded, filling the air with its wailing call, the pendulum under the arch swinging left and right with every peal.
"Ella," a woman's voice called. "Are you there? Can you hear me? This is the last time we will be able to open the portal. If you're there, you have to come through!"
Ella screamed as a curved pair of teeth bit down into her shoulder. Killian pointed both hands at the revenant, and finally accepted what he must do.
He shouted an activation sequence and twin bolts of lightning shot from his fingers, bathing the revenant in deadly radiance. The creature came on, oblivious to the pain, but Killian retreated, walking backwards, continuing the stream of deadly fire.
Smoke rose from Lord Aidan's clothes, and his hair blazed as it caught fire. The flesh on his face and hands blackened, sizzling and smouldering. Killian continued the stream of energy as he walked backwards and the revenant came on, face curled with hate, eyes red with blood.
Lord Aidan fell to one knee. He attempted to stand again, but fell down until he was on both knees. The skin on his face was now featureless; the only part of him recognisable was the redness of his eyes. His clothes burned away from his body and smoke poured from him in a steady plume.
Lord Aidan fell down face forward, and then he was still.
"Ella!" the woman's voice called again. "Please, hear me! You have to cross now!"
Killian lowered his hands. He'd destroyed the creature that was part monster, part his father.
The curtain of the portal shimmered and flickered as the beacon wailed, even louder than the shrieks of the wraiths.
Ella ducked a swooping shadow, launching a yellow bolt from her wand as it passed. Killian prepared to unleash his power on the wraiths.
A flying creature flew at the portal and disappeared through the curtain.
53
SHANI stared at the shimmering curtain of molten gold, willing Ella to come through before it was too late.
Bartolo and Jehral both stood with swords bared, ready to face anything that wasn't Ella or Killian. The beacon pealed, and both men grimaced at the intensity of the sound.
Shani looked at the Lexicons. They were fading visibly. The portal would close automatically rather than drain the Lexicons completely. Ella would be stranded on the other side.
"Ella!" Shani cried. "Please, hear me! You have to cross now!"
In a lull between peals she thought she could hear something on the other side. Strange shrieks and cries? What was happening through there?
"I hear it," Jehral said.
"Be ready," said Bartolo.
A black creature of nightmare suddenly shot out of the portal, into the chamber inside the Sentinel, filling the room with shrieks
. The winged creature bounced off the walls and scratched at the stone. Spotting the two men, it plummeted down with claws outstretched.
Bartolo was already singing, activating his armoursilk and zenblade, filling the room with his voice. The bladesinger flared up as his silken garments protected his body with a hardness greater than steel. His zenblade became a hue of fiery blue, a sword that could cut through anything.
The creature shied away from the light, and went for the black-clad warrior holding a curved scimitar.
Jehral ducked under the sharp teeth, narrowly missing the following claws. Spinning, he hacked at the winged creature with his sword. The scimitar bounced off the shrieking creature as if striking stone. Bartolo leapt into the air and swung overhead, missing the neck but striking a wing. The zenblade should have passed through the wing like a knife through water. Instead the glowing blade bit deeply, seeming to anger the creature.
"Close the portal!" Bartolo screamed.
"You have to!" cried Jehral.
Shani looked at the portal, torn between her husband, and the friend she would be dooming by closing the gateway. Bartolo was a bladesinger, one of the best, but this creature was something none of them had encountered before. She had no way of knowing how pressed he would be, or if more of the creatures would be on their way.
Jehral struck again at the flying demon, his sword once again having no effect other than to enrage the creature. Bartolo tried to strike but the creature flew out of range, shrieking as it batted around the ceiling of the chamber.
Shani had to keep the portal open for as long as the energy would flow. With no other clear path of action, the elementalist said the words that activated the red cuffs she wore around her wrists.
Taking a deep breath, she drew her wrists together and a tiny ball of flame appeared between her palms. The flame grew steadily and Shani drew her wrists apart to give the fire room to breathe. The winged creature tried to fly down once more, and again Bartolo's fiery sword caused it to rear back, retreating to the heights.
The Path of the Storm (The Evermen Saga, Book Three) Page 36
