‘We’re going to need you to drop your weapons.’
Exodus
XVI
THE CALADRI WARSHIPS had already put to sea. Their role was to offer protection to the armada that would transport the Krykker people—plus the Grand Caladri refugees—across the Lantinen. This armada consisted of the Caladri trading vessels, and the Vismarian fleet, which had crossed the Lantinen with Red Serpent. Rabigar had asked for their help, and they had given it. Their leader, Sevald, the same man who had spoken at the Krykker moot, hadn’t wasted time debating it, or demanded anything in return; they had gathered their ships and sailors and set off immediately. Rabigar would always be grateful to them for that.
Rabigar stood with Maragin, looking down on the long, patient line of Krykkers, waiting their turn to embark on foreign ships. It was natural to think that they had somehow failed their people. But even now, a wave of Drobax, unstoppable in number, roamed over their lands. And wherever the Grendals had manned mountain passes to fight this plague, the dragon had arrived. Destroying their forces, burning Krykker and Drobax alike until the passes were cleared, only grey ash was left as a sign of its passing.
Maragin had put an end to using her soldiers in such a way. She had blocked all the entrances and tunnels that led underground, except for the one they now stood by. She had conceded all of her clan’s territory above ground to the invaders. Halls, houses, fields; all were lost. Whatever could be saved, had been taken underground. Enough food to feed a small army. Underground wells provided an endless supply of water. The Krykker resistance would continue. They would never give up their homeland.
It was time to close the last entrance, before the Drobax reached them. Maragin ordered her soldiers to set fire to the wooden props they had put in place underground. Once they gave way, the walls would collapse, and a tonne of stone come crashing down where they now stood. It was time to clear the area. Maragin had chosen a thousand Krykkers who would stay behind. Many of them were rock walkers, capable of forcing their bodies through Krykker rock. Rabigar allowed himself a grim smile at the thought of them emerging, with night as cover, to slaughter the Drobax above ground, before disappearing again. He wished he could be with them. But as Maragin had said, he had other responsibilities.
He paced backwards, taking a last look at Maragin, before she disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel behind her.
He kept moving back. He felt the ground shake, and saw small stones and debris sift down the wall of rock above the tunnel entrance, as the ground underneath it began to weaken. Then, without further warning, the rock gave way. Huge chunks of it cascaded down towards him, and he skipped backwards faster to avoid the cloud of dust that came behind. He knew that the same thing had happened inside the tunnel.
He waited a while, allowing the dust to settle. The wall and the entrance had disappeared, replaced by an untidy jumble of cracked rock. The Drobax wouldn’t even know that an entrance had once stood there, never mind be able to clear a way inside. There was nothing else for Rabigar to see here. Finally, he turned around, and made his way down to the harbour.
Here Hakonin, leader of the Swarten clan, was organising the evacuation of a whole people. The pier was full of Vismarian ships and Caladri traders getting loaded. Once full, they would cast off and sail out to sea, while the next vessel would steer its way in to replace it.
‘Get on the next ship,’ Rabigar said to Hakonin. ‘We need to make sure you get across. You’re in charge now.’
‘Is it done?’ Hakonin asked, looking up at the rocky scree where the tunnel had stood a few moments before.
‘It’s done. It worked. They won’t get in that way.’
Hakonin nodded. He signalled to his household troops, who stood in a group along with family members, and they made their way down to the harbour, identifying a Caladri trader that looked large enough to hold them all.
That was the last of the stragglers. Everyone else was already in the line, waiting their turn for the next ship. They had nearly done it. Only the crossing itself to go, and they would have pulled off a remarkable logistical feat.
Then he heard the noise. Turning, he looked back towards the rocks. He saw nothing, but he knew what he had heard. Drobax.
‘They’re coming,’ he whispered to himself.
Rabigar placed a hand on the hilt of Bolivar’s Sword. He would make a stand here if necessary.
The noise came again, the shouts of thousands of Drobax, echoing down to the shore from the mountains. Rabigar still couldn’t see anything, but with only one eye he knew that didn’t mean they weren’t visible to others.
The Krykkers in the line for the ships had heard it this time, and panicked voices reached him, urging those ahead to go faster. He turned to look.
‘Calm yourselves!’ he barked. The last thing they needed after all this was a last-minute stampede for the boats. They were Krykkers. They were better than that.
Some of the Krykkers left the line to stand with him, ready to fight if need be.
‘Can you see anything?’ he asked one of them, a man half his own age.
‘They’re on the high ridge, some already past it. They’ve seen us.’
Rabigar nodded. ‘Then they may get here before all the ships have left. We must keep them away.’
‘I’ll fight with you, Rabigar Din,’ the man said.
Rabigar grunted.
They waited, a thin line of Krykkers, Rabigar straining his eye to see, until he saw movement high up. The Drobax were moving fast, keen to get to them before all the ships were cast off. But they were in a disorganised mess, not moving in regiments, but in ones and twos. Rabigar was sure they would be able to hold them off for a while. He looked anxiously into the sky. So long as the dragon didn’t make an appearance.
‘Look!’ someone shouted, pointing.
Rabigar turned to see. Those Drobax who were nearest were under attack. Emerging from the rocks, groups of Krykkers intercepted them. The Drobax behind screamed in anger, their attention diverted to the new threat.
Maragin’s rock walkers. Their intervention was already working.
Rabigar smiled.
‘We’ll be fine. Come on, let’s go.’
They returned to their positions in the line. They all cast the odd look behind them now and again. The rock walkers had disappeared, but they had done their job.
The line was diminishing, and soon Rabigar found himself boarding the last ship, a Vismarian vessel. It was big enough to take on the remaining Krykkers, though to Rabigar it didn’t have the same feeling of stability he had experienced on Red Serpent. Still, if it got them across the Lantinen he wasn’t going to complain.
Taking a place on deck, Rabigar made himself look back towards his homeland. So recently he had gained the right to return, after half a lifetime as an exile. And now he had been forced out again.
There, the first of the Drobax had descended from the rocky scree to the shoreline, looking out at their escaped quarry. Forced out of his home by those creatures. He made himself look, holding on to the image, so that when he needed to, he could recall it and use his anger to do whatever he had to. Because whatever it took, he would return his people to their homeland. That was his vow.
Sunlight reflected off the deep blue of the ocean. The sound of oars hitting water filled Rabigar’s ears, as the Vismarian ship followed the rest of the armada west across the Lantinen Sea. Dalriya receded from view and the world of the Krykkers contracted to a few tiny ships bobbing up and down on the waves.
It may be that my people have never been so vulnerable, Rabigar told himself. Krykkers were used to having the safety of rock underneath their feet, if not all around them. Here they were in an alien, dangerous environment, and they wouldn’t be safe until they made landfall in Halvia.
Somewhere to the north, not visible from Rabigar’s ship, the Sea Caladri warships patrolled, protecting them from a Kharovian attack.
The hours passed, the sun gradually withdrew, mak
ing the horizon turn orange and the sea purple. But it was still light enough for the Vismarian sailor to spot the smoke to the north.
He raised the alarm and Rabigar, like many others, rushed to the starboard side to look out. He saw one, then two, then half a dozen: great palls of black smoke could be seen rising into the sky.
‘What is that?’ asked a young woman.
Everyone else shared a look. They all knew.
‘The Sea Caladri are out there,’ someone answered her. ‘The Kharovians have come.’
There was nothing they could do, except tell the crewmen to row harder. Those on deck looked anxiously to the bow, for signs of the Halvian coast, then back to starboard, for signs of the sleek Kharovian warships. Neither came into view. The smoke continued to darken the sky to the north, until the disappearance of the sun made it invisible. Then, they could see fire where the smoke had been. The two great navies of Dalriya were clashing out there, and it was impossible to know which way the battle was going.
At last, they could see lights on the Halvian shore. It was close. Many of their ships must have already landed, and were lighting the way for those that remained. Rabigar could feel the relief flow through the vessel, after hours of anxiety.
But the relief was premature.
For now a sailor called out a second warning, and this time he pointed into the sky.
Rabigar knew it was the dragon before he saw it. Doubtless the creature was responsible for much of the fire and smoke they had seen to the north. It had now flown south, looking to wreak more destruction.
What Rabigar wasn’t prepared for was the fear that seemed to roll off the creature down onto the ship. The people on the deck moaned, no longer able to speak. It wasn’t possible to say what, exactly, caused it. The shape of the thing, perhaps—the long tail and neck at each end, the outstretched wings. The size of it, unlike any creature they had seen before. That it was airborne, making it faster as well as more powerful than they were. The fact, of course, that they were stuck on a drifting pile of wood, exposed, with no rocks to hide under.
Rabigar succumbed to the fear, just like everyone else. But his hand brushed against the hilt of Bolivar’s Sword and the weapon gave him the courage to react. It was just in time.
Its wings furled back and a great roar erupted from its long throat. The sound of death. The dragon dived through the air towards them, a green devil hurtling through a grey sky.
‘Into the sea!’ Rabigar shouted. ‘Get overboard!’ He drew his sword, facing the oncoming beast.
Some were able to react quickly enough, running to the sides of the ship. He heard the shouts and splashes as they hurled themselves into the Lantinen, but he didn’t see, for his eyes were now trained on the dragon. It was coming right for him, his defiance provoking its wrath.
The dragon opened its maw and flames erupted down onto him. The sudden heat engulfed him, as if he had fallen into a fire. He held Bolivar’s Sword in front of him. Somehow, the weapon protected him from the flames, deflecting them to the sides. Wherever they went, the ship caught fire, ablaze in a matter of seconds. Even though the flames didn’t touch him, the heat became too much for Rabigar and he wilted, collapsing to the floor, only just able to keep his sword aloft.
The dragon passed overhead with a screech of fury.
Rabigar was surrounded by flames and now he panicked, unable to see anything but fire and smoke. It got in his eyes, his nose, his lungs. Desperate, he pulled his cloak over his face and began walking. He resisted the urge to run, knowing he could trip, bang his head, and that would be it. He could feel his skin crackling and burning, but still, he moved carefully. A rope, still taut, blocked his passage and he moved around it, before resuming in the same direction. He was rewarded when he bumped into the side of the ship. Still holding Bolivar’s Sword, he swung one leg over the side, before half jumping, half falling out of the burning ship.
He plunged into freezing water. He held his breath, trying not to flail about as held onto his weapon for all he was worth, kicking with his legs, until somehow he emerged into cold air, gasping for breath.
He knew enough that he should tread water at first, letting his body adjust to the freezing temperature of the sea. The flames of the ship blinded him, so that he could see nothing else. Fearful, he scanned the sky for the return of the dragon.
He decided he had to move. Krykkers weren’t built for water. His heavy torso, encased in its natural armour, pulled him down, and the blade in his hand prevented him from using the smooth, controlled strokes that would have seen him cut through the water. He turned to face the Halvian shoreline and tried to pull himself in that direction, splashing about and not getting very far. Waves crashed into him, preventing him from gaining any kind of rhythm.
He would not let go of Bolivar’s Sword. He would not be the Krykker to lose the greatest treasure of his race, the weapon of their greatest hero. He would rather drown with it than wash up on the shore without it.
He looked about him. Ahead was another Vismarian ship, also set alight. To his right and slightly behind him was the burning remains of the ship he had escaped from. He couldn’t see anyone else in the rolling black waves.
Wait, Rabigar thought to himself. Why is the ship so far to the right?
The sea. The sea is pushing me in that direction. He looked ahead again. He wasn’t getting any closer to the Halvian shore, where the rest of his people had set lights to guide the last of the armada. He was being drawn away by the tide.
Rabigar had to fight down the panic that gripped at his insides, that clamped his throat.
He had to swim hard for the shore now, while he still had enough energy. If he left it any longer he would be dragged further out to sea.
Rabigar put his head down and pumped with his arms, kicked with his legs. He threw his head to the side, gulping a breath of air, before pushing ahead again. He didn’t waste energy looking about him, checking how far he had got, he just pushed and kicked, his arms burning with the effort, his lungs ready to burst.
He stopped, looked up. He could see the shoreline, but he was still too far away. He put his feet down. Maybe he was close enough to stand? No.
He started swimming again, but he had given everything he had now. He was too tired, unable to move his limbs properly. He felt dizzy. If he lost consciousness now, he would drown. But if he stopped moving, he was dead anyway.
Drop the sword. Part of his mind was telling him to leave the weapon behind, to save himself. No. Never.
He gave it one last push, trying to drag his heavy body to shore. He began to sink under. He held his breath. He could see Bolivar’s Sword in his right hand ahead of him, sinking down with him. At least he hadn’t let go of the sword, he told himself idly, as the oxygen began to leave his brain. At least they would drown together. That was some comfort.
It was time to give up now. He’d done his best.
Then Rabigar was pulled up, his head breaking through the water, and he took a choking mouthful of air.
Strong hands clamped onto him and picked him up, his whole body leaving the sea.
He looked about, head lolling, feeling impossibly high, as he was carried towards the shore. He heard the slosh of legs walking through shallow water, saw the sandy beach, and suddenly he was flying straight towards it as whoever carried him threw him onto the sand.
Rabigar lay there for a while, unable to move, like a fish out of water.
His hand twitched. He was still holding the sword. He was alive and he still had Bolivar’s Sword. It gave him a final spark of energy.
He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Half a mile down the beach dancing light caught his eye. When he looked he saw that the shoreline was aflame. The dragon had torched the armada. The Vismarian fleet, saved from the Kharovians, was now destroyed. Just like the ships of the Sea Caladri.
He heard a wheezing sound and turned to look in the other direction.
Rabigar got such a shock he let go of his sword.
Stood in the flickering shadows cast by the bonfire behind him, bent over, hands on knees as it got its breath back, was the largest human he had ever seen. At least eight feet tall, it was large in every respect, seawater dripping down from its hair and clothes like a sea monster that had emerged from the depths.
And, for some reason the most shocking of all, it was a woman. This woman had literally picked him up and carried him to the shore. She was still bent double, chest heaving from the exertion. Despite everything that had happened, Rabigar couldn’t help but look at her chest heaving up and down, for like everything else about her, it was unfathomably large.
She turned her head, standing up to tower over him, before putting her hands on her hips.
‘Well, I’ve found a right one here, haven’t I?’ she asked him. ‘Bloody dragon come and burned us all to bits, and all you can do is stare at me tits!’
Comeback Kings
XVII
TIME IS A STRANGE ENEMY, Farred mused, as the Kellish countryside slipped by on either side.
Everyone agreed that the fastest way to get to Essenberg from Guivergne was by river barge, but it didn’t feel like it when you were sat on the deck, impatiently waiting to reach your destination. Their pace was determined by the flow of the Cousel, and there was little that could be done to alter it. If he had taken the roads, on horseback, at least he would have felt like he was doing something to get there faster.
Farred was satisfied that he had given the Guivergnais good warning of the threat they faced to the north. The Drobax had overwhelmed the lands of the Grand Caladri and had now turned on the Krykkers. They were unlikely to stop there. Moreover, the Isharites had sent a flying monster, that the Grand Caladri had identified as a dragon. They had told Farred in no uncertain terms that the beast was unstoppable.
The Jalakh Bow Page 20
