Cry of the Newborn

by James Barclay

  The third enemy vessel was turning but it would not catch them. Jhered would be surprised if they had any desire to do so.

  And at the stern, the skipper clapped his tiller man on the back and roared with laughter.

  Chapter 45

  848th cycle of God, 32nd day of Solasrise 15th year of the true Ascendancy

  'Say it,' repeated Arducius. 'Speak it with us.'

  Gorian sighed dramatically and nodded that he was ready to intone with them. It was the sixth day of their voyage north and the second day since Ossacer had awoken, nervous but apparently all right in every other respect. He had settled Mirron's sickness and pointed out a weak joint in the ship's hull to Patonius. The skipper had only half-believed him at first but, on discovering he was right, had reacted with a bemused suspicion. She had kept the knowledge to herself but the rumour had spread through the crew nonetheless.

  The Ascendants sat below decks in the cramped quarters Arducius shared with his brothers. Kovan bunked with the first officer. The two were apparently friends from school in Cirandon, though the sailor was a few years older. Mirron was using the Marshal's cabin.

  The looks she had drawn from the crew had escaped none of them and Arducius had been forced to recognise for the first time that the girl he thought of as his sister was almost a woman. And a very pretty one at that. He could no longer deny the reasons for Gorian and Kovan's sparring for her attentions. He didn't like it much and had been close to her ever since.

  Arducius was determined that they should keep up the ways Father Kessian had shown them, though every lesson, every practised work and every recital had brought them fresh pain. And after discussing it long with Kovan, they'd also agreed to practice below decks in their quarters. It was altogether no fun at all and spirits were very low. God-surround-them but they had not even been able to swim despite the entire ocean about them and the presence of the dolphins Gorian

  was able to summon at will, even without water contact. He wouldn't tell them how.

  'Ready?' Arducius asked the others. They nodded.

  'Our God who blesses this earth, all those who walk upon it, all the creatures who run across it and all the fish that swim in the seas, warm our hearts while we study to do your work. By your grace are we blessed. By your wisdom are we Ascendants born to serve you and to bring greater comfort to all those we touch. Let your hand guide our minds and our bodies as we grow each day to be more able to serve you. You are the Omniscient. We are your servants.'

  They dropped their heads for the moment's quiet contemplation. Each one of them consulted their inner senses and delved into their strengths. Their lifelines burned bright in the stuffy air of the quarters. The energy of the world coalesced about them through every breath, every flicker of the eye and every touch of their hands. Arducius glanced at Gorian. He knew why he was reluctant to pray. Arducius didn't think he really believed in it any more. Not where his place in it was anyway.

  'One by one, tell me what you see this morning. Mirron?'

  ‘I see the energy of the sun warming the air above our heads and I feel the cook fires burning in the galley. They use poor fuel which burns unevenly. I could help them if you'd let me.'

  'Maybe later on. Ossacer?'

  'There is a grey surrounding the energy maps of at least half of the crew. It is an infection that may or may not grow. It would be easy to kill but the surgeon does not even know it exists. None of them feel sick.'

  'Is it dangerous?'

  'No,' said Ossacer. 'It's like a cold or something.' 'Then we can let it run its course. Gorian?'

  ‘I see everything. Is there anything you want me to bring out in particular for this pointless exercise? Arducius, we can make this voyage better for everyone. And at the same time we can show them what we can do. What power we have.'

  'You want them to fear us?'

  'No,' said Gorian, frowning. 'I want them to see us for who we really are. We're like prisoners in here.'

  'You heard what Kovan said. This is a small ship and the crew are superstitious like all crews. It doesn't matter that they are the Marshal's. Out on the sea, we are alone and at risk.'

  Tm not scared of them,' said Gorian.

  'Respect them instead,' said Arducius.

  'You're beginning to sound like dear, obedient Kovan,' said Gorian. 'Perhaps you should bunk with him if you don't want to be an Ascendant any more.'

  'Don't be so stupid.'

  They all turned to the door in the instant before Kovan knocked on it. They knew it was him by the change in the energies his lifelines forced on those that surrounded them. It was a realisation that had come upon them slowly. At first, Arducius thought it just quick reactions. One time, though, he had his eyes closed and saw as well as felt the shift in energy through the changing of colour in his mind. He had known then it was one more thing they had at their disposal.

  'Come in,' said Ossacer.

  Kovan entered. 'Come up on deck before you start. You've got to see this.'

  'What is it?' asked Arducius. 'Kester Isle.'

  They followed him through the ship and up the small flight of stairs to the slightly raised foredeck on which sat the ship's single scorpion bolt-firer. Its cold dead metal was unsettling. But for once they forgot its presence. Because off the starboard bow was Kester Isle, the defender of the Conquord, so they had been schooled. The sight took Arducius's breath away.

  Through the night, they had been approaching it and Kovan had requested they sail close to get the first view. Patonius had smiled, a rare event, and had agreed. They were no more than a half mile from its western edge. The beauty and the terror of man and nature, the Marshal had described it. Arducius hadn't understood at the time but he did now.

  Kester Isle was a towering dog leg of ancient rock, hundreds of miles long. At its southern end it was a sheer black cliff better than two thousand feet high. It was often lost in cloud during dusas when the waves crashed against its base, trying in vain to scale it. Myth had it that God had sent a bolt of lightning that cracked the land in two as a demonstration of his power and so created the cliff. Father

  Kessian had said it was probably a volcano beneath the sea or an earthquake. Arducius didn't know which to believe.

  It didn't matter. They had already sailed beyond it and the teeth of rock that kept any boat from getting too close to it. The western cliffs were hardly less impressive. The whole of Kester Isle sloped down south to north where it ended in a series of jutting spikes of rock called the Lances of Ocetarus, the name of an Atreskan god of the sea. The tidal eddies they produced made approach to the northern beaches treacherous and had led the Conquord engineers to build harbours further down its flanks.

  Arducius stared at the rock, letting his eyes travel up the cracked, pocked surface, home to countless thousands of seabirds. Waves rumbled at its base. The water breasted not far below the first of innumerable numbers of fortifications. They jutted or had been carved out of its sides at almost every level on which his eyes lingered. They appeared to drip there, like the heavy blossom on a willow tree, lighter in colour than the rock to which they clung. He saw the sparkle of lights in the gloom, the sheen of metal brackets on onager and bolt-firer and the glint of tripod-mounted magnifiers. Every angle was covered. There had to be hundreds of them studding the pitted walls.

  He had read that behind them all was a maze of passages linking armouries, workshops and barracking for thousands of men, and all leading to the top of the isle, whose natural covering of grass and trees was dominated at its centre by a vast man-made plateau. And on the plateau rested the great palace, city and fortress of the Ocetanas, the Conquord navies.

  Even from this angle and distance, better than fifteen hundred feet below, the buildings were awesome. Watch towers studded the perimeter of the plateau which stretched the width of the isle. Each tower was linked by ramparts from which the arms of artillery pieces jutted and were covered by canvas. Beyond them, he could see the topmost stories of the palace
hung with the flags of the Conquord and the Ocetanas. The latter, displaying the profile of a ship under the sun and over the rolling oceans was set just below the level of the Conquord standard.

  Every piece of stone was a dazzling white, every roof tile a bright fiery red. And the towers that sat at each corner of the plateau were masters of all they saw on the surface of the sea. They bulged out in their centres, in mimicry of classical Gesternan architecture.

  One day, Arducius resolved to himself to go there. Walk the long paths that wound up to the plateau or ride the sequential lifts that were strong enough to move building slabs. He'd walk through the city gates and see the vast fields that made the isle self-sufficient. And he'd see the pumping stations where the water from the rivers deep in the bowels of the isle, or caught in the rain catchers was fed to the irrigation and fountain systems. The diamond city. The place where, if even the whole Conquord fell, no enemy could hope to take.

  He felt a grab on his arm. It was Kovan.

  'Look, Ardu, look.'

  The ship rounded a rock and cement wall that made up the southern barrier of one of the four great harbours that Kester Isle possessed. Inside it at anchor, at berth or just visible through the huge sea gates that let into the vast caverns, were ships. Ships everywhere. Trireme, galley, artillery platform, and spiked corsair. He smiled for the first time since he'd seen Father Kessian fall. He never thought to see one spiked corsair, let alone a cluster of a dozen and more.

  They were the vessel of the Ocenii Squadron, the navy's elite. They looked evil. Garishly decorated, particularly the ramming spike, they sat low in the water. They had a single purpose: to propel the Ocenii hard and fast into the enemy. To hole their ships at the waterline and to bring the Conquord's best onto the decks of their foe. They carried sword, composite bow and pitch fire. Their reputation was unparalleled.

  'Have you ever seen them?' asked Arducius. 'The Ocenii?'

  Kovan nodded. 'Just once, my father brought me here to see them train. You've never seen anything so fast across the water. And when they strike their target, they slice the binds that keep them in their seats for impact and climb up their oars so fast you cannot keep up. And to see them fight, even in sparring is something you cannot describe.'

  Arducius wasn't sure how much Kovan was exaggerating. Mirron was.

  'They sound like monkeys with swords,' she said dismissively. 'And the painting on the sides is so ugly. As ugly as the boats.' 'Ships.' Kovan and Arducius spoke together. 'What's the difference?' asked Mirron, plainly uninterested.

  Arducius shook his head, staying Kovan's attempt to explain. 'You're wasting your breath.'

  He looked back down the deck. There were a handful of crew topside. Riggers and the boy that operated the plumb line. Patonius was on the covered aft deck with the tiller man. They kept on staring like they had ever since Ossacer had identified the weakness in the hull. It made Arducius uneasy. He could feel the animosity through their energies. The ill-feeling was like a chill breeze on his body. He wished he could shut more of it out sometimes but then he wouldn't be able to experience the wonders and glories of all God's creatures, the seas and the earth.

  'What are you staring at?'

  'Gorian, don't,' said Mirron.

  Arducius sought the object of Gorian's belligerence. It was a rigger. A sinewy man with long, lank hair tied in a ponytail. He was stripped to the waist, showing off his corded, dense muscle. He said nothing but continued staring. Other activity on the deck halted immediately. Patonius leant on the rail and watched. There was a smirk on her face. Arducius felt the mood cool around him.

  'Do we look strange or something?' Gorian pressed.

  The man shook his head and walked towards them. Kovan moved a pace forwards in front of Mirron.

  'Leave it, Gorian,' said Arducius. 'It doesn't matter.'

  'It does,' he said. 'I don't like being stared at.'

  'I'm not staring at you, boy,' said the rigger, only a handful of paces away now with his mates gathering under the mast to watch him. 'But your pretty sister is worth a closer look.'

  'I think that's close enough, though,' said Kovan, holding out an arm. 'She's just a girl. You'll frighten her.'

  'Oh, a protector,' the rigger said, his smile broadening unpleasantly. 'And a high-up one too. Don't worry, little marshal, it's just a bit of fun.'

  Ossacer had come to Arducius's side and was clutching his arm nervously. Arducius patted his hand, happy that Kovan would handle it. He had his father's calmness about him.

  'Only for you, not for her,' said Kovan. 'Go back to work.'

  'Come on, little one. Come and see the ship with a proper man. I'll take you places you've never seen before.'

  Mirron stepped back and towards Gorian. He stepped in front of her and next to Kovan.

  'Don't make me hurt you,' he said, his voice cold.

  'Gorian,' warned Arducius. He looked to Patonius in appeal. She merely shrugged and carried on watching. She didn't understand.

  The rigger laughed. 'What with? Your little boy fists and your funny eyes? Do you really think we believe the stories we heard? Don't insult me, boy or I'll put you over the side.'

  'Fun's over,' said Kovan, glancing at Gorian. 'Let's not get angry. It isn't worth it.'

  The rigger leered at Mirron. 'Young and firm. Just the way I like my women. Come on. Just a walk.' 'No,' she said.

  'You heard her,' said Gorian. 'Now turn away before you never see anything ever again.' 'That's it, I warned you.'

  The rigger stepped forwards, a determined look on his face. But he had misjudged Gorian. He was quick and strong for fourteen. Arducius felt the change in the energy trails on the hot breeze. Ossacer tensed and Mirron began to mouth 'no' but it was all too late. Gorian ducked under the rigger's grip, straightened and slapped a palm over his eyes. There was the briefest flare and the rigger fell back, screeching, his hands to his face.

  'No,' said Gorian. 'I warned you.'

  'He's blinded me, he's blinded me,' wailed the rigger, dropping to his knees.

  His mates bunched and ran, shouting their threats and promises. Kovan drew his gladius.

  'Halt your movement!' bellowed Patonius.

  Down on the oar deck, voices called up and the rhythm was interrupted. Oars clashed before the stroke man brought them back under control.

  'Nobody take another step,' continued Patonius. She strode up the ship towards them, pausing briefly by her crew. 'You, get Anthus down below to the surgeon. The rest of you get back to your work. Do it now. I'll handle this.'

  Arducius could see Gorian standing proud and defiant. Behind him, Mirron was staring open mouthed at the rigger, Anthus, who was helped sobbing to his feet to be led away.

  'I could help him,' whispered Ossacer.

  'I don't think this is the time,' said Arducius.

  'Put up your sword, young Vasselis,' said Patonius, stepping up to the bow deck. She stood square in front of Gorian. 'There is only one person who dispenses discipline on my ship and that is me, not some stupid little boy.'

  'I told him to stop and he wouldn't. He deserved it,' said Gorian.

  Patonius's face was bleak. 'He was having a little fun. Had he laid a finger on you or Mirron, I would have stopped him and I would have administered any punishment I saw fit. What you think does not matter on my ship and it never will. Tell me, is he permanently blind as a result of this devilry that my Lord Marshal is so keen to protect?'

  Gorian shrugged.

  'He doesn't know,' said Ossacer quietly. 'He never knows.'

  He was massaging his wrist where the frost-burn scars were.

  'I have a crew behind me who will demand retribution for what you have done,' said Patonius. 'Our rules out here are very simple. Like for like. Should he be blinded, so shall you be.'

  Mirron gasped but Gorian merely shook his head. It was Kovan who spoke.

  'I'm sorry, Captain, but I cannot let you do that,' he said. 'I beg your pardon?'

  'My fat
her has placed the Ascendants in my care and they are not to be harmed.'

  'In your care but not under your control,' she said. 'Nevertheless such an act cannot go unpunished. I'm sure your father would agree. But for now, my judgement is this. All of you are confined below. You, Gorian, will be lucky ever to see the sun again. Mirron, this is for your own good. The blood of fertility has run from you?'

  Mirron nodded, blushing.

  'It's a sign from God,' said Patonius. 'And grown men can smell it on you as if it were freshly squeezed juice from ripe fruit. Keep yourself out of the way. Now all of you, get out of my sight until I order otherwise. Never mind what you possess, you are a long way from enough protection should my crew seek vengeance.'

  On his way past Patonius to the ladder below, Arducius paused and squinted at the trails in the air emanating from the south-east, beyond Kester Isle. He frowned.

  'Something wrong?' she asked.

  'You might want to steer us closer to shore. The first of the solasfall storms will be here in seven days.'

  Patonius turned a slow circle, staring at the unbroken blue sky. 'I hardly think so, Arducius. This is the Tirronean Sea and we are a long way from the turn of the season.'

  Arducius shrugged. 'Seven days,' he said.

  She glared at him, insulted. 'Ridiculous notion. Get below.'

  Chapter 46

  848th cycle of God, 39th day of Solasrise 15th year of the true Ascendancy

  Arducius was pitched from his bunk and struck the wall opposite. He checked himself over quickly. He'd been lucky. Nothing was broken but he'd have some bad bruising. Ossacer would need to look at it later. Assuming they didn't sink, of course. It was pitch black, the candle having long since toppled over and snuffed out. He shook his head and opened his mind to the energies surging about him. It was like a cascade of ice-cold water through his mind, washing away everything else.

  He could see Gorian and Ossacer's energy maps with stunning clarity. Both of them were sitting up, clutching the sides of their cots and sampling the power that thundered around them. Beyond the walls of their tiny room and away beyond the confines of the ship, was the thrashing life of the storm that had boiled out of the southeast exactly as he had predicted, and rapidly overtaken them. It presented itself to him as a blaze of yellow-white light, coiling, spinning and spitting out strands and sheets of energy that had huge force but which dissipated the next instant.