The Diamond Isle

by Stan Nicholls

‘And how are you faring yourself, Kinsel?’ Serrah asked, hoping to move things away from the maudlin.

  ‘Well, I’m still trimmer,’ he grinned.

  ‘So I noticed.’

  ‘Forgive me, I’ve not asked; how did the mission go?’

  ‘Weirdly. I’ll fill you in on that later.’

  ‘How’s Reeth? And Kutch?’

  ‘We all got back safely. And I think Kutch might have his first sweetheart.’ Serrah smiled at him.

  ‘Really? Who?’

  ‘Somebody we came across on our voyage. Hopefully you’ll meet her soon.’

  ‘Poor kids. Brought here at a time like this.’ He stole a glance at his own adoptive pair. ‘We’ve not heard a lot about what’s been happening today. Can you tell us what’s going on out there?’ His eyes said, be circumspect, for the children’s sake.

  ‘Something we’ve been expecting for some time. The empires have arrived, in force.’

  ‘Empires? Both of them?’

  ‘They’ve combined their fleets and seem to be acting together.’

  ‘They think we’re that much of a thorn?’

  ‘Apparently so, and that’s why I came. Well, I came because I really wanted to see you all, of course, but also to ask how you felt about moving to the fortress.’

  ‘The fort?’ Tanalvah said, looking alarmed. ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘No. I mean, it’s not an order or anything. But you could be safer there.’

  ‘Aren’t we safe here? I thought this place was a stronghold too.’

  ‘It is. It’s just that the thinking is it might be better to concentrate all the noncombatants up there, and keep this place for the defenders so they–Tan?’

  Tanalvah’s face twisted and her body writhed.

  ‘Tan? What’s the matter?’

  ‘What is it, my love?’ Kinsel said.

  ‘It’s…all right. Just…just another…spasm.’

  Kinsel took a cloth and dabbed her moist brow. The children looked on, fretful.

  ‘You’re getting these often?’ Serrah asked.

  ‘Couple of…times a…day.’

  Serrah had the ignoble thought that this was rather conveniently timed, then immediately felt ashamed for entertaining the idea. ‘If you’re getting contractions, maybe this isn’t the best time to move you.’

  ‘Tanalvah’s all right,’ Kinsel told the children. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. Now come on, it’s time you got some sleep.’ He shepherded the complaining youngsters back to their beds. ‘I’ll be right back,’ he mouthed.

  Serrah turned to Tanalvah. ‘Sure you’re all right, Tan? Because you don’t look too brilliant, to be honest.’

  ‘I’m all right. Really. I would prefer to stay here though.’

  ‘I suppose you won’t be any less safe here than anywhere else on the island. And there should be some proper medical attention available, though under the present circumstances there’s going to be competition for it. But you really ought to think about sending the children to the fort. It’s where they stand the best chance.’

  ‘We don’t want to be parted again, whatever the reason.’ Kinsel had returned. ‘We’ve discussed it.’

  ‘I won’t try arguing with you. But let me know if you change your minds. We might still be able to get you up there, as long as you don’t leave it too long.’

  ‘We understand,’ he said.

  There was a sound like rolling thunder.

  Tanalvah looked alarmed. The children appeared at the door again, hands clasped anxiously.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Kinsel said. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’

  The children ran for Tanalvah.

  Serrah and Kinsel moved to a window, away from the others. There wasn’t much of a view, and all they could see was the lowering sun.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Kinsel whispered.

  ‘I think it was the start of a war,’ Serrah said.

  The sun was going down. It would be a cold evening, and an eventful one.

  ‘I’m surprised it took them this long to open hostilities,’ Disgleirio said.

  ‘This is just a skirmish to test our strength,’ Caldason replied. ‘It’s only a preliminary.’

  ‘Not for the poor devils giving their lives out there.’

  They were holed-up in a defensive ditch on a rise overlooking the port and bay beyond. A few hundred others were strung out along the dug-out’s length, clutching weapons, awaiting their time. It was very cold, and would have been colder had a light snow not been falling.

  At sea, a handful of Diamond Isle vessels were engaging a group of invader craft. The islanders, hopelessly outnumbered, proudly flew the rebels’ green scorpion insignia. Their antagonists sported dragon and eagle emblems in roughly equal number, testifying to the unholy alliance of empires.

  To Caldason’s surprise, and regret, Rad Cheross had taken his little brig into the conflict. It was already paying for its bravery. Tilting at an unnatural angle, sails askew and smouldering, water lapped at its decks.

  Glamour cascades pounded timber. Ships burned, and some collided, casting men overboard. Others were embroiled in gory melees as they battled to repel boarders. There was a cacophony of fighting and dying, the sounds of rent oak and magical reports drifting across to the silent onlookers.

  Similar clashes were going on all around the island. Their primary purpose, as far as the empires were concerned, was to destroy as many ships as they could, making escape impossible. The defenders reasoned that as their small, disparate fleet was likely to be lost anyway–they could hardly drag the craft inland for protection–they might as well sell them at a price in blood, even if that was a modest cost to the invaders.

  Some craft were fired and sent out crewless to ram and ignite enemy ships. The twilit sky was beginning to turn ruddy over the coasts.

  ‘This isn’t going well for us,’ Caldason said.

  Disgleirio took a swig from his flask, then offered it. Caldason shook his head. ‘It’s buying us time. They expected to do no more.’

  ‘I hope we’re using it wisely.’

  As he spoke, several detachments of islanders jogged into view, ready to strengthen the line. Many were Righteous Blade members, the backbone of the island’s defences.

  ‘I think so,’ Disgleirio said. ‘How long before they try coming ashore, do you think?’

  ‘Now the fighting’s started, I’d say sooner rather than later. And this area’s going to be a shambles.’

  ‘We won’t be sticking around for that. We’ll hinder them as much as we can, then cut and run.’

  ‘Have a direction in mind?’

  ‘Straight back inland, the bulk of us. We’ve an ambush or two planned to slow them further, then we basically scatter and strike as bands. There are bound to be some set piece confrontations, like here on the beach for example, but in the main we intend avoiding them. Guerrilla methods, as you said.’

  ‘What about the fort? Is it sealed yet?’

  ‘All but a couple of well guarded entrances for stragglers. Damn, that reminds me. We need to get those sorcerers moved.’

  ‘Who?’

  An unusually intense flash bathed the trench in scarlet light for a second, as a series of booms swept in from the sea battle.

  Disgleirio blinked. ‘Phoenix and some of his Covenant people. They’re over at the Ferrymen’s Inn, by the end of the quay, with the old man you brought back and Kutch and the girl. I don’t think they’re going to be sufficiently clear if we start getting landings.’

  ‘I’ll get ’em out.’ Caldason rose to leave, adding, ‘If Serrah comes back–’

  ‘I’ll be sure to keep her here for you.’

  Caldason nodded and set out at a dash.

  His sprint took him past a crowd milling portside, waiting for orders, and more columns of defenders bound for the shore. They seemed pitifully small in number. He pushed on, huffing steam.

  The sorcerers’ faction and their attendant aides we
re spilling from the tavern’s doors, such was the attraction of the Source. He elbowed his way in.

  Phoenix was to be found in a back room from which most were barred, a prohibition no one felt inclined to impose on Caldason. Praltor Mahaganis was there, stretched out on a couch and apparently asleep. Kutch and Wendah were present too. Several Covenant adepts, engaged in preparing aromatic concoctions or note-taking, made up the party.

  ‘Not much to report yet, I’m afraid,’ Phoenix announced as the Qalochian barged in. ‘We’ve barely begun.’

  ‘It’s fascinating, Reeth,’ Kutch said. ‘Phoenix plans to try drawing out something of the Source using a form of deep hypnosis, the inhalation of certain herbs and–’

  ‘You have to get yourselves out of here.’ His tone left no room for doubt, and the chamber fell instantly quiet. ‘And any of these sorcerers not directly involved with your work, Phoenix, are needed to defend the island.’

  ‘We’re trying to do our bit here, Reeth,’ the elderly wizard argued. ‘Any interruption of our efforts is only going to delay the possibility of our coming up with something that might help us all.’

  ‘I know, and I have a vested interest in it too, remember. But we can’t guarantee the safety of this place.’

  ‘We thought we’d have much longer before–’

  ‘Not from the way things are going out there. Our sea defences, such as they are, aren’t proving too much of an obstacle. Pick the help you need and get yourselves and Praltor to one of the fastnesses in the interior. Do it now. If you loiter, the enemy’s going to be on us.’

  A buzz began. The sorcerers started gathering their paraphernalia and packing their books. Caldason pushed his way to Kutch and Wendah.

  ‘I want you to go with them,’ he said. ‘You’ll be safer in the interior with Phoenix, and I’ll try to get to you as soon as I can. Failing that, I’ll send somebody. All right?’

  ‘Things are really that bad?’

  ‘And about to get worse. I’ve always tried to be honest with you, Kutch. What’s coming is going to be frightening and more destructive than you can imagine. I want you both to stay as far away from it for as long as possible.’ He noticed that Kutch and Wendah were holding hands, and added, softly, ‘Look after each other. Being with someone helps the fear.’

  Caldason was due for another surprise. Wendah moved to him, stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek. Before he could say anything, a kind of chant rose. It took him a moment to realise that it was his name being repeated by successive voices, and getting nearer as the message spread his way. He was being summoned.

  Giving Kutch’s shoulder a squeeze, he worked his way back to the outer doors. Outside, in the cold night air, people were pointing for him to see. A disc was diving from the sky, its metallic surface reflecting the multicoloured explosions originating seaward.

  In seconds it was hovering in front of them. Darrok sat in its hollow, Pallidea at his back, her crimson hair streaming.

  ‘Welcome home, my friend,’ Darrok growled. ‘You’ll forgive me ignoring the formalities but we have a situation and I could use your help. The first landing’s just taken place.’

  29

  A harsh wind and eddying snow. Heavy, wet sand underfoot. Clashing steel and the cries of dying men.

  They fought on a beach in semi-darkness. Two groups, one from the sea, the other defending the land, brawling ankle-deep in freezing waves. Above, a crescent moon beginning to show, and the brittle pinpricks of stars.

  Caldason cracked an opponent’s skull, then spun to pierce another’s chest. The void he created was quickly filled by a further pair, looking to down him. He proved a disappointment. The first took a slash of steel across his throat, while his crony yielded to a punctured lung. Still the intruders came, uniforms ill-assorted, looming out of the dusk like murderous phantoms.

  Glamour phantoms mingled with the raiders too, as confusion sowers; part of a parallel conflict raging between the small number of sorcerers present. A quarrel that saw blazing flashes of magical vitality exchanged, and men falling with blistered cavities in their chests.

  The band Caldason had joined was at best half the size of the invaders’, and not overburdened with skilled fighters. But they had the edge in ferocity, born of desperation, and they had Darrok aggravating the enemy with his diving disc. And so the landing party was slowed, checked, and finally forced to withdraw.

  Darrok swooped down to join Caldason, arriving as the Qalochian took up a discarded spear and lobbed it at a fleeing seafarer’s back. The rest of the islanders’ band was in hot pursuit of the retreating invaders, many of whom were already scrambling into boats.

  ‘If there had been more of them,’ Darrok said, ‘I’m not sure we could have held.’

  ‘There are.’ Caldason nodded seaward. ‘Plenty…out there.’ He scooped up a handful of moist sand and wiped clean his gory blade. ‘This was just a spat.’

  The beach was littered with corpses. Those of the enemy bore tattoos of both dragon and eagle, revealing the extent to which the supposedly rival empires were working together.

  ‘Never thought we’d see something like this, eh?’ Darrok remarked.

  Caldason pointed. ‘Look at that one. And there.’ The dead he indicated weren’t in uniform; at least, they weren’t in the same kind of uniforms as the majority.

  ‘Pirate garb,’ Darrok confirmed.

  ‘Vance’s men?’

  ‘Of course. I wondered how long it’d take him to make a pact with the bastards. No doubt his reward’s the privilege of looting what’s left of this place.’

  ‘It’s spitting in the ocean as far as our situation’s concerned. We were already massively outnumbered.’

  Darrok seemed preoccupied with his grievance. ‘This is something else I owe Vance for, and if I ever get a chance to pay him back–’ He stopped and gazed at the sky.

  ‘What is it?’ Caldason said.

  ‘Friendly, I hope.’ A flying object was approaching from inland, and pitching their way. After a moment, Darrok added, ‘As I thought.’

  It proved to be a bat, larger than any species known to Caldason. It had a wider than natural wingspan, and its black hide had orangey-yellow dappling, giving it the look of a predatory wildcat.

  ‘Be back in a minute,’ Darrok promised. He zipped off and met the creature, hovering before it. The bat hung suspended in the air, defying gravity despite no longer flapping its wings.

  A commotion flared up at the shoreline, a last skirmish with the escaping invaders. As it died down, Darrok was hurtling back, the glittery remains of the spent message glamour dissipating behind him. His expression was grave.

  ‘They’re trying to get a squadron of land leviathans ashore. Our people are slowing them, but not much.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Not far from here. That sheltered cove further west. We’ll start seeing the really serious landings now, Reeth.’

  ‘And the enemy getting siege engines into play.’

  ‘I’ve got something that could stop them.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘But there’s a problem with it.’

  ‘Well, there it is.’ Darrok floated beside the barn’s large open doors, indicating what was inside.

  It was an immense wooden structure, with uprights and cross-struts of sturdiest timber, and a single arm that could be wound back by use of spindles and pulleys, with a pouch attached to its end by thick leather straps. In essence, it was a slingshot, built on a huge scale.

  Darrok glided over to the trebuchet and gave it an affectionate slap. ‘They call it the Claw. That cradle’s big enough to take rocks the size of sedan chairs, and the mechanism’s powerful enough to fling them enormous distances.’

  ‘Where did it come from?’ Caldason said, cricking his neck to see the weapon’s top.

  ‘A few years ago I had a minor warlord and his extensive retinue as guests. When the time came for him to leave, it turned out he couldn’t meet his bill.
I got his people to build this by way of payment. I was thinking of Vance. I reckoned it might come in useful for defending the island.’

  ‘So why isn’t it out there somewhere doing just that?’

  ‘The warlord was a lousy leader, but he had some great craftsmen on his payroll, armourers in particular. This thing’s beautifully designed and built, and it needs only a handful of people to operate, but it takes scores to move it. Manpower or horses; we can’t spare them.’

  ‘Ironic.’

  ‘You can say that again. We could do a lot of damage with this beauty, but I don’t know how we’d get it where it’s needed. And the frustrating thing is that it isn’t that far. Any ideas?’

  ‘No. That is…’

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘That magician? What was his name?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The one everybody said was crazy.’

  ‘You’re not really narrowing down the field, Reeth.’

  ‘Frakk.’

  ‘Frakk?’

  ‘You can’t have forgotten. The wizard with the horseless carriage.’

  Darrok snapped his fingers. ‘Right, him. We were hoping to use his invention for ploughing fields or–’

  ‘Or transporting things.’

  ‘How would we do it? Practically, I mean?’

  Caldason looked about the barn. ‘You’ve got plenty of wheels here to fit on the trebuchet, or the makings. I guess we’d attach one of his magic boxes to each wheel. Or axle? I don’t know, we’d have to work out the details.’

  ‘It’s a good notion, Reeth.’

  ‘Do you know where this Frakk is?’

  ‘He should be in one of the designated sorcerers’ nests. I’ll find out.’

  ‘Meantime, I need to find Serrah.’

  ‘And we need you here to oversee this. I was hoping you’d lead the detail that delivers the machine. Serrah’s going to be fine in the redoubt, believe me.’

  ‘I’d like to confirm that for myself.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, Pallidea’s out there somewhere as well, and I’d like nothing more than going to find her. We’re too stretched. They can look after themselves, Reeth. Our job’s trying to stop the invaders.’