“I knew nothing of your work, Tholl,” Corr said, “but if my ships fly because of it, then you have my thanks.”
The old dwarf bowed.
“I have served our people for longer than Nonn has been alive,” he said. “He styles himself the heir of the Eldersmiths of old, but his greed has driven him mad. Rather than share Adamant with you, he made a pact with the enemy. He will destroy the Ironwise. I curse him, Sky Lord, and I turn my back on him and his followers, and so does my son.”
Corr studied the two dwarfs again without speaking. Nar kept his shaking head bowed, but Tholl’s seamed, scarred face was raised toward the Sky Lord.
“What were you doing in the tunnel where my men found you?” he asked at last.
“When Nonn brought down the slabs, your men ran and left us, my lord,” Nar said hastily. “We were on our way to find you and warn you. There is grave danger for you and all your men. Now that Nonn has relit the forges, he has the means to destroy your ships.”
“How can that be? If he’s sealed off all the doors, he can’t harm us any more than we can him.”
Just then the sound of frantic shouting and running feet came from above. At first the shouts were all a confused babble of voices. Then one word was clearly heard above the din.
Fire!
Corr stood frozen, and to Finn it seemed that for the first time he saw fear in his brother’s eyes. Then he turned to Kern.
“Finish questioning them,” he said. “Grath, with me.”
Corr wheeled around and strode up the tunnel with the mordog lieutenant. Finn and the doctor, for the moment, had been forgotten. They glanced at each other and then followed.
They walked out onto the parapet to a scene of frantic disorder. Some Stormriders were shouting orders, others rushing with buckets to the water troughs and back to the ships.
Small burning objects were rising out of the central well, hundreds of them, like a cloud of glowing fireflies. They were hard to make out in the smoke and darkness beyond the torches, but they appeared to be small metal braziers filled with bright, leaping fire and kept aloft by whirling wooden blades.
The braziers were rising on the updraft of hot air from the forges, Finn realized. And now that they had reached the colder air of the upper circles the blades were slowing down. The braziers were starting to fall, and the ships were directly below them.
With the others Finn hurried after Corr, who was roaring to his Stormriders to form into lines to pass the buckets hand over hand to the ships. And then Finn stumbled over something and looked down and saw a Stormrider lying dead on the black stone with an arrow in his chest. An arrow with black fletching.
He peered across the gap to the other pier and saw furtive figures there, crouched among the scattered stone rubble. Figures shooting up from concealment, drawing back bows, loosing arrows.
“Nightbane!” someone cried as another black-feathered shaft whistled past Finn’s ear and clattered across the stone behind him.
But now a few of the braziers had fallen into the rigging and spars of one of the skyships. When they struck, they spilled their blazing contents, and sails and cables burst into hungry flame.
Corr’s flagship was closest to the edge of the pier and its furled sails were already a mass of crackling flame. Blackened cloth was falling onto the deck, and Stormriders were scurrying about with water buckets and wet rags to put these new fires out, some frantically stamping at them with their boots.
Then the falling braziers reached two more of the skyships and their sails and decks began to burn. Other Stormriders on the pier had formed into lines as Corr had commanded and were handing along buckets from the water troughs. But black-fledged arrows were flying thick and fast now from the Nightbane on the far pier, and every so often a Stormrider would cry out and drop with an arrow in him. The wounded had to be carried to the shelter of the stairways and sentry towers, which left fewer men to fight the fires.
Corr had already charged among his men, directing the work of saving the ships, seemingly oblivious to the arrows whistling around him. A few of the Stormriders had crept as close as they dared to the edge of the pier with their lightning staves, but the crackling white bolts they loosed fell short of the Nightbane. There were archers with longbows among the Stormriders, as well, and they clambered up the sentry towers along the parapet and launched their own volleys at the Nightbane.
The doctor was soon busy looking after those who had been struck by arrows or burned by the falling fire. Finn stayed close to Corr, and the golem strode along behind him. He had a plan to take a company around the parapet to come at the Nightbane archers from behind. He was about to share his thoughts with Corr when he saw another obstacle: massive pillars had fallen across the parapet on either side of the pier, likely deliberately brought down by Nonn’s people. The far side of the upper circle of Adamant could only be reached by climbing over the fallen pillars, and their flanks were too tall and smooth for that to be a simple task. The golem might be able to lift or move one, Finn thought, but by that time it would be too late. All the Nightbane had to do was hinder the attempt to save the ships, and then the Stormriders would be out in the open and nearly helpless, for the pier was now cut off completely from the rest of the city.
Just then an arrow tore through Corr’s cloak. He didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were fixed on the flagship and he hastened toward it, shouting at the Stormriders who were scrambling down the gangplank, coughing and shielding their eyes from the smoke, commanding them to stand their ground and save the ship. One of them ran blindly past him.
“Corr, we have to stay back,” Finn said, clutching his brother’s arm. He looked around for Alazar, wondering where the doctor had gone, but he couldn’t see him anywhere.
“The gaal,” Corr breathed. “We must save it.”
“There’s only a little of it left, you told me. It’s not worth your men dying for.”
“No, you don’t understand. In the hold of the flagship—there’s a secret compartment filled with the ore. Enough to keep the ships aloft for days. I kept it hidden from Nonn in case he ever betrayed me. If the fire reaches the hold, the gaal will go up. The pier … the camp … everything will be destroyed.”
Corr halted, his face stricken as he watched the flames consuming the flagship’s sails and spreading along the masts and spars.
“We can raise the ships,” Corr said, speaking more to himself than to Finn. “Take them up above the rim of the city. Yes, we must raise the ships.”
“It’s too late,” Finn said. “They’re only death traps now.”
Corr turned to him with a look of rage and it seemed for a moment he didn’t recognize his brother. Before he could speak, somewhere nearby a man cried, “The water!” and they both pivoted at the shout.
“The water’s stopped flowing!” another Stormrider called to Corr.
Finn glanced down at the narrow trough underfoot. Where once there had been a steady stream, now there was nothing left but a thin trickle.
“What’s happened to the water?” Corr roared at the nearest of his men. The Stormrider stared back at him blankly.
There was another shout, but this was a cry of amazement and relief, and Finn saw several men pointing at the two towering bastions on either side of the gates. From the gaping mouths of the dragons came frothing white plumes of water, falling like a miraculous rain on the ships. Finn’s gaze swept over the entire circle of the city and he saw now that there were dragon-headed bastions all around the great curve of the parapet and that water was gushing from these spouts, too, and splashing and cascading over the walkways below. And now he understood why the dragon heads had been carved facing inward: they were there to protect the city, not to warn away enemies.
“Who’s done this?” Corr said in wonder as the braziers that were still hovering among the ships were struck by the falling water, their flames going out with a hiss and gush of steam. The water fell upon the decks and spars of the burning ships, a
s well, and the fires were dimming and going out.
In a short time the jets from the dragon mouths drew off to a weak drizzle, but it had been enough. There were only a few small fires left burning on the decks of the ships and among the tents on the pier, and Corr’s men had rallied and were rushing to put those out. Even the Nightbane across the circle seemed to have been dismayed by this unexpected turn of events, for the volley of feathered shafts fell off to a few scattered arrows and dark shapes could be seen scurrying away into the shadows.
“Who has done this?” Corr said again, gazing up at the mouths of the stone dragons. Then he turned to Grath. “Where is the old dwarf and his son? Find them and bring them to me.”
The mordog marched off just as the Stormriders who had fled the flagship were returning to it, hurrying up the gangplank with buckets to douse the last of the fires.
Corr turned to Finn then, and the rage had gone from his face, replaced with his usual icy glare.
“You haven’t left yet, brother,” he said coldly. “My ships are damaged, but it’s possible one of them may still serve to get you home.”
“Corr, I—”
He didn’t finish. The doctor had appeared on the deck of the flagship with the Valkai prisoner. The warrior’s head was down and he was struggling to walk, his hands still bound. The doctor had one arm around the Valkai’s waist and one of the Valkai’s arms was over Alazar’s shoulder. In a flash Finn understood that the doctor had deliberately climbed aboard the burning ship to save the Nightbane prisoner.
Finn left Corr and dashed up the gangplank.
“They left him to die,” Alazar shouted. “Help me, Finn.”
Finn reached for the wounded Valkai’s other arm. The young warrior cried out as he was moved but was still able to hobble along.
“I’ve got him, Doctor,” Finn said. He felt the doctor’s hold slip away and he struggled down the gangplank with the wounded Valkai, fighting to keep him upright. When he reached the pier, the Valkai gave a groan and his legs buckled under him. Finn set him down as carefully as he could upon the stone, just as two of Corr’s Stormriders rushed up to take the prisoner from him.
“Should’ve let this one burn,” one of the Stormriders muttered.
Finn ignored them and looked back up the gangplank for the doctor, wondering why he hadn’t come with them. He saw Alazar sitting beneath the main mast, his shoulders slumped. The doctor’s spectacles had come off and he was groping about to find them, as if he had gone blind.
Finn climbed back up the gangplank. A burnt spar came loose and crashed to the deck a few feet from where he stood.
“Doctor, it’s not safe here,” Finn said, but the older man did not answer. His trembling hand was still feeling its way over the planks. Finn knelt beside him and finally saw the black-feathered shaft protruding from the small of his back.
“My spectacles, Finn,” Alazar said. His face was ashen and he was breathing in shallow gasps. “Can’t seem to find them.”
Finn picked up the spectacles and put them in Alazar’s hand. Shakily the doctor raised them to his face and slid them on. Then his hands dropped into his lap as if the effort had exhausted him.
“We’ll get you out of here, Doctor,” Finn said, and he shouted for help. “Corr’s men will know what to do about the arrow.”
He felt a presence near him and looked up to see that the golem had followed him onto the deck and was standing over him now, unmoved and unmoving as always.
“You’re no use here,” he muttered angrily at Ord. “Not now.”
“Don’t let them touch the arrow, Finn,” Alazar said. “I’ll just bleed out faster.”
“Tell me what to do, Doctor. There must be something I can do.”
He shouted again and the Stormriders on the deck turned at his voice.
“Bring Corr! The doctor needs help!”
One of the Stormriders ran for the gangplank. The doctor raised a hand and grasped Finn’s arm. His grip tightened.
“Finn, my bag … where is it?”
Finn glanced around the deck and saw the battered black leather bag lying at the top of the stairs into the hold. He ran over, picked it up and carried it back.
“I’ve got it, Doctor,” he said. “What do you need?”
“My journal,” Alazar said hoarsely. “Find it, please.”
Finn dug in the bag and brought out the journal.
“Is there something in it that will help?” he said. “A remedy or—”
“There’s no remedy for this, Finn. Not for any of it. I want you to take the journal. It was nearly full, anyhow. Take it with you when you leave.”
Finn understood at last and tears stung his eyes. “Doctor, the journal is yours. You’ll be writing in it later about all this, I’m sure of it.”
Alazar blinked up at him through his spectacles and smiled.
“You’re a good man, Finn. I wish there had been time for us to become better friends.”
“There will be time, Doctor.”
“Finn, please. You’re the only one I can trust. Keep the journal. Maybe one day you can visit the Sunlands. Give the journal to my king, if he still lives. Tell him I kept my word.”
“You’ll do that yourself, Doctor,” Finn said, and then he glanced over at a sound. Corr was striding toward him across the deck with the two Stormriders that Finn had sent to find him.
“Corr,” Finn said. “It’s a Nightbane arrow. Can you help him?”
Corr did not reply. He crouched beside Finn and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Corr, the arrow …” Finn began again, then he looked down at the doctor and saw that he was dead.
The ships had been saved and the Nightbane attack had drawn off, but the Stormrider encampment was still frantic with activity. Men were clambering over the ships, salvaging whatever they could of the sails and ropes that had burned or replacing them with spares. Other Stormriders were busy setting up a system of winches and buckets on cables in case the ships were threatened again with fire. Still others had begun clearing the rubble that had cut the pier off from the rest of the upper parapet.
The doctor’s body had been placed with the Stormrider dead on a pyre of charred wood from the damaged ships. With Alazar’s journal tucked in a pocket of his cloak Finn summoned the golem to follow him back onto the pier. For a long time he stood with Ord like a silent tower beside him and watched the Stormriders going about their tasks. What had brought most of these men here he had no idea, but it seemed certain that many of them would never leave.
With all the urgent activity, no one took any notice of him. At last Finn gave the golem a final command and then went in search of Corr.
He found him with his lieutenants in his cabin on the flagship, planning a counterassault on the mines. The old dwarf and his son were there, too.
“Nonn’s Nightbane allies will likely have reported by now that the ships weren’t destroyed,” Corr was saying as Finn appeared. “He’ll be wondering how we got the dragon spouts working again. He may figure out it was you and your son, Tholl, who helped us.”
“Even if he does, my lord,” the old dwarf said, “there is much he doesn’t know about Adamant. Many secrets were built into this city as it was delved through the ages. Secret ways of dealing with enemies from both without and within. I am the last who knows of some of them.”
“There was a time, long ago, when the Ironwise nearly went to war with one another,” Nar added. “There was much distrust then, and one of our chieftains had secret traps and defences built in case of need. My father helped build them.”
“The secret defences were never used,” Tholl said. “Eventually they were forgotten. Only I remember.”
“Is there a way to get through those slabs?” Corr asked.
“There is no means to raise the slabs from this side, Sky Lord,” Nar said. “They were a last defence against invaders and were made so that the mechanism that lowers them would break once they were used. Even if the clay gian
t could raise the slabs, which my father says isn’t likely, Nonn will have set other traps and obstacles in your path. But—” He hesitated and glanced at his father apprehensively.
“In those long-ago days,” Tholl said, picking up the story, “I helped construct secret waterworks to flood the forges and mines if the other faction gained control of them. Nonn knows nothing of this.”
“You can flood the lower circles?” Corr asked.
With great care the old dwarf rolled back the sleeve of his tunic to expose a withered forearm that was covered with a web of old scars.
“As we built the secret traps and defences, I made a map of them, Sky Lord. A map that would survive the years and that no enemy would discover, not on a body that was already as scarred as mine. But I no longer need the map. I can see it all, every hidden passage and trap, with my eyes closed, and so can my son.”
“My father and I will rechannel the water, my lord, so that it will douse the forges and drive Nonn’s delvers out of the mines,” Nar said. “And then I can lead you by hidden passageways so that you may take Nonn unawares.”
“You would do this for me?” Corr asked doubtfully. “You would have someone who is not of your kind rule the city of the Eldersmiths?”
“Better an alliance with the Sky Lord than with Nightbane,” the old dwarf said, and for the first time Finn saw the ghost of a smile crease his ancient face. “My son and I saved your ships, and we will help you seize the forges and the gaal for yourself. But in return I ask something of you.”
“What is it?”
“Nonn has been ruthless, and most of those who follow him do so only out of fear. Spare my people, Sky Lord, and they will serve you well. They will restore this city to what it once was, to the glory of the Adamant of old. We cannot do this without you and you cannot do it without us. We need each other so that what is almost lost can be preserved.”
The Tree of Story Page 25
