by Jen Williams
‘She was the god of chaos,’ added Dallen. ‘Always unpredictable, always wild.’
‘Res’ni sank the city of Temerayne beneath the sea,’ said Ceriel, ‘but not before sealing it over. No one escaped, and they lived out what was left of their lives trapped in that deadly prison. Res’ni decreed that if they wanted order, and a world unchanged, then they would have it, for ever.’
‘Never piss off a god,’ said Wydrin. ‘That’s what I always say.’
Sebastian smiled faintly. ‘Did you not once smack Y’Ruen about the ear with that very same blade you’re wearing at your waist, Copper Cat of Crosshaven?’
Wydrin shrugged. ‘Never piss off a god, unless it happens to be really funny at the time.’
Ceriel frowned at them both, apparently trying to decide if they were joking.
‘The city of Temerayne has been down there ever since,’ said Dallen. ‘Cursed and haunted, no doubt.’
‘So this place is under the sea?’ Wydrin puffed out her cheeks. ‘You know, I may just have spotted our first problem.’
Ceriel looked serious again. ‘When it was over, Res’ni left a monument to her punishment, and it is said that there is a way through to the lost city below.’
‘Joah made it down there somehow,’ said Frith quietly. ‘When he fled from the mages.’
‘As far as I know, no one living has ever been foolish enough to try it,’ said Ceriel. ‘Warmlings, it seems, have no sense at all.’
Wydrin laughed and lightly punched the tall woman on the arm. ‘Ha! You’ve just got no sense of adventure.’
The ship sped on as the sky above them turned from bright blue to washed-out white, the taste of salt on every breath when a flurry of shouts from the wyvern riders at the sides of the ship announced that they had reached their destination. Sebastian moved to the prow of the ship with Dallen and Wydrin. Frith appeared behind them, his face ashen.
‘There you have it,’ said Dallen. He sounded as though he barely believed it himself. ‘The Judgement of Res’ni.’
Ahead of them a giant wolf’s head rent the ocean in two, apparently snapping at the sky above. It was a monstrous thing constructed of black rock, twice as tall as the tower in Pinehold had been and lashed with frothing waves. Curving black fangs jutted from the open muzzle, and from the side Sebastian could see a single eye, yellow and shining and mad. It was gold, he realised; an enormous eye made of gold. Truly, the people must be afraid of it, he thought, or they would have prised that off centuries ago.
‘That doesn’t look like it’s going to be very easy to get into,’ said Wydrin.
As they drew closer, Sebastian could make out rough symbols carved into the rock just above the wolf’s giant staring eye. They appeared to be mages’ words.
‘It says “Order for all time”,’ said Frith, confirming Sebastian’s suspicions. ‘It looks like the stories are true.’
‘You will have to climb up to the corner of its mouth, do you see?’ Ceriel pointed to where the jaws met. That close to the sea, the rock was pitted and covered in barnacles and other sea life. ‘In its throat, you will find the way down.’
‘Can your wyverns get us that close, do you think?’ asked Wydrin. Ceriel smiled coldly.
‘They might be persuaded to carry you for a short time,’ she said. ‘But not your spirit slave.’
Sebastian saw Wydrin look back towards Mendrick, and sensed some sort of communication between them. Eventually she shrugged.
‘He will stay here with you. And the girl. Nuava’s been through more than enough lately, without being asked to jump into a wolf’s jaws. It’ll be me, Sebastian and Dallen going down there.’
Ceriel opened her mouth to reply, but Frith spoke over her. ‘Have you forgotten me already?’
Wydrin shook her head. ‘You’re not well enough, princeling. You need to rest up. You can leave this one to us – we’re the professional adventurers, after all.’
‘It was the Black Feather Three, last time I looked,’ he said hotly. ‘Or have you already forgotten how my magic has aided you?’
‘Oh, but I thought you were leaving all that behind.’ Wydrin crossed her arms over her chest. ‘You have more important things to do, after all, like getting wed and producing more little princelings.’
‘By all the gods,’ Sebastian held up his hands, ‘we don’t have time for this. Frith, we are just concerned—’
‘The demon will have left traps down there for us, don’t you doubt it. Without my magic, you will be dead in moments.’ He glared at them both, and despite his deathly pallor his grey eyes were bright again. ‘Besides which, I know where the god-blade is. You need me down there.’
‘Fine,’ said Wydrin. She looked back towards The Judgement of Res’ni, her eyes narrowing. ‘I think we’re going to need all the help we can get.’
In the end the four of them travelled across to the statue of Res’ni on the back of two sea-wyverns, each guided by a Narhl warrior. Settling as best he could in the wet leather saddle, Sebastian turned to see Wydrin waving to Nuava, who was leaning out over the side-rail. Dallen and Frith sat on the other wyvern, the prince looking much more comfortable than the lord. Sebastian suspected that dipping his boots in ice-cold water was doing Frith no good at all, but he was much too stubborn to admit it. For the briefest moment Sebastian considered reaching out to the mind of the animal beneath him, but he remembered how the snakes had writhed and hissed. Some things were best left alone.
The wyverns brought them as close as they could get to the bottom of the wolf’s head, and they set about climbing the pitted rock face while the Narhl riders looked on. Sebastian could see Wydrin above him, moving with confidence and shouting the occasional curse word, and below he could hear the steadier progress of Dallen. How Frith was faring, he could not tell, but he reminded himself that when they had explored the Citadel, Frith had needed a stick to walk with, and he had still managed to make that journey.
Eventually, Wydrin’s slim shape disappeared over the corner of the wolf’s jaw, and he followed her shortly after. They stood in a dark space carved from rock, with a wide hole in the centre containing a set of spiralling steps. The roar of the waves crashing against the rock was deafening, and they were both soaking wet. After a few moments, Dallen hauled himself over the edge, followed by Frith. The young lord looked as pale as Sebastian had ever seen him, and the hand he leaned against the rock was trembling. The four of them looked at each other.
‘Well, it seems there is a way down after all,’ said Wydrin. ‘Do you want to place bets on how far we get before we get our feet wet again?’
‘More to the point, even if we retrieve the god-blade and make it back up here, how do we know they’ll still be here?’ said Frith, pointing back to the gap in the stone. The teeth of the wolf cut the sky into jagged sections. ‘Having the sword will do us no good at all if we’re stuck in the middle of the ocean.’
‘They said they’d wait until sunset,’ said Wydrin, shrugging. ‘I think they mean it, and Mendrick trusts them.’
‘My people do not break their oaths, Lord Frith,’ said Dallen.
‘In that case, let’s get a move on.’ Wydrin pulled the light-globe from her pack and passed it to Frith, eyeing the dark staircase warily. ‘And best keep our weapons drawn.’
51
The way down was dark and echoed with the fury of the sea. They had to walk single file, so Wydrin kept her dagger at waist height and a careful eye on where she was putting her feet. Dallen was at the very front, and as yet had reported that the steps were dry. That, she figured, was a good start.
‘So, Frith, do you feel like telling us what you remember of this place from that ghost’s memories?’ Her voice echoed flatly off the walls. ‘What can we expect to find down here?’
There were a few moments of quiet before Frith answered, the sound of boots on stone filling the narrow staircase.
‘I saw very little,’ he said eventually. ‘It was a grand, silent place, fille
d with dust. The two mages pursued Joah to a great tomb, and that was where they made their final stand.’ He paused to cough. ‘It ended badly. For all of them.’
‘Sounds like it ended badly for everyone in this city,’ said Wydrin. ‘Let’s hope we have more luck.’
They walked on for some time before Dallen called out and they came to a stop. After a moment Frith put away the light-globe and Wydrin saw that there was another light source: a rippling silvery glow, like the moon on water. The stairs had come to an end and they were in another dark round room with a large hole in the floor; it was this hole that shimmered with silver light. It was like looking into a pool of bright water, except that beyond it . . .
‘Am I seeing that right?’ Wydrin took an involuntary step backwards. ‘Because if I am, I might have to throw up.’
The city of Temerayne lay beneath them, filtered through the pool as though they hung in the sky above it. Wydrin could see buildings of white marble and streets of pale green brick, all perfectly empty. Nothing down there moved.
‘The lost city of Temerayne,’ said Dallen, his voice hushed. ‘I can barely believe it. That it has been hidden down here, all these thousands of years.’
‘More to the point, how do we get down there?’ said Sebastian. ‘And how do we get back up?’
He knelt by the pool of light and pushed the point of his dirk past its surface. When nothing happened, he did the same with his fingers.
‘There is no resistance,’ he added. ‘I believe we could pass through it.’
‘I can get us down there,’ said Frith, stepping forward. He pushed back his sleeves so that his silk bandages were revealed. ‘With the word for Hold I can lower each of you through the portal. It will not take much effort.’
Sebastian grimaced. ‘And back up?’
‘There is a tower close to this entrance, look.’ Frith pointed to a delicate spire reaching up towards them. ‘If we can climb that, then I should be able to lift us up, too. I am reasonably confident of this.’
‘Reasonably confident?’ Prince Dallen looked horrified. ‘Your confidence, my friend, is all that stands between us and a slow, unpleasant death.’
Frith shook his head slightly, and Wydrin found she recognised the look of impatience that creased his brow.
‘During my imprisonment I learned a great deal about the Edenier, and I now have a much greater mastery of the mages’ powers. As insane and murderous as Joah was, I do believe he genuinely wanted me to be able to make full use of the magic. I can do this.’
‘You can stay up here if you like, Dallen,’ said Wydrin, smirking slightly. ‘Reckless adventure isn’t for everyone.’
Dallen snorted, a most unprincely gesture. ‘Reckless adventure I can take,’ he said. ‘It’s cheerful suicide I’m more concerned about.’
‘Here, I’ll go first.’ Wydrin stood in front of Frith and met his grey eyes with her own. ‘It makes sense that our most skilful blade is the first into unknown territory anyway.’ And then, in a lower voice that only Frith could hear, she said, ‘Strangely enough, I trust you, princeling.’
He raised an eyebrow at that, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
‘Stand at the very edge,’ he said. ‘Just there, that’s it.’ He put one hand on her waist, positioning her at the lip of the silvery hole. When he was happy with where she was, he raised both hands, an expression of deepest concentration on his face.
I trust him, oh yes, thought Wydrin, for some bloody reason I trust him. What Joah did to him nearly killed him, and he’s weaker than he was, and I could end up splattered all over the cobbles of some lost city.
The link between you is strong. Mendrick’s voice was suddenly inside her head. As much as you will both ignore it.
Mendrick? You can hear me down here?
Your voice is always . . . loud.
‘There,’ said Frith. ‘Can you feel that?’
Wydrin made to shake her head, but then a warm feeling seemed to sweep up from her toes, a faint sense of pressure against her skin. Once, when she had been very small, her mother had taken her to a lake that was so full of salt it was impossible to sink in it. They had paddled around, her mother uncharacteristically relaxed for once, and they had laughed at that feeling of buoyancy. This felt a little like that; a pressure beneath, keeping you afloat.
‘I can,’ she said, half laughing. ‘Bloody hell.’
‘Take a step back.’
Inwardly cursing her life choices, Wydrin did as he asked. Instead of stepping into nothing and plummeting to her death, she found herself floating over the surface of the silvery pool, her boots submerged in its strange light.
‘Good,’ said Frith. He was staring at her steadily, and if anything he looked brighter than he had for days. The Edenier, thought Wydrin, it reinvigorates him. ‘I’m going to lower you now.’
Slowly, so slowly, she descended down through the pool, closing her eyes as the band of light passed over her head, and then she was hanging above the city.
‘By the Graces,’ she gasped, ‘it’s beautiful.’
It was – a fabulous confection of white marble and olive-coloured brick, glass glinting like stars in flute-shaped towers – but it was difficult to concentrate on that when she could see nothing but empty air below her boots. Gradually she moved downwards, as smoothly as a ship under a steady wind. She risked a glance upwards and saw the circle above her as a shadow in a watery sky. There was Frith, his face rigid with concentration, and Sebastian, who looked like he was regretting their hurried breakfast. Above her and around them was a sky that was not a sky; it was, she realised, the sea – a shifting, swirling expanse of blue and black held back by some unknowable force. The will of a god, she thought, and then abruptly she was nearly on the ground. The sense of pressure holding her in the air vanished, and she dropped easily to land on her feet. She waved up to the others to let them know that she’d made it down safely, then looked around.
At ground level the lost city of Temerayne wasn’t quite as beautiful.
The fluted towers arose on all sides, their tops spreading wide like some strange species of pale lily, but down on street level the cobbles were thick with skeletons. Wherever she looked she saw grinning skulls and shattered ribcages, yellowed bone and piles of dust. Hundreds of men, women and children had died in the streets, their bodies lying under the sea-sky with no one to tend them. She saw skeletons clasped together, as though they’d died fighting or embracing, and ragged shapes hung from windows, finger bones clutching at nothing. The dead were numerous, ancient and utterly silent.
Wydrin looked back up at the enchanted ceiling. What must it have been like, she wondered, to have known that you were trapped down here, and would never see the real sky again?
Sebastian was making his slow way down now, his arms held out stiffly in front of him as if he could stop himself from falling with sheer willpower. When he got to the ground he just looked at Wydrin and shook his head.
‘And I thought the invisible bridge was bad.’
Dallen and Frith came down together, holding arms awkwardly. The prince had his eyes shut all the way down.
Once they were all back on the ground, Wydrin drew her dagger again. With no people and no wind, it was unnaturally quiet – even the sound of the sea was lost to them down here.
‘The silence, and that sky,’ said Sebastian. He drew his own sword, following Wydrin’s lead. ‘To die in such silence . . .’
‘I doubt it was very quiet, towards the end,’ said Wydrin, nodding at the skeletons. ‘People would have been desperate.’
‘Let us find the sword and get out of here,’ said Dallen. ‘This is a cursed place. We should not be here.’
‘The tomb was this way,’ said Frith, pointing down the street. ‘Let’s go.’
They walked quickly. Wydrin tried, at first, not to step on the skeletons, but there were so many, and the bones so old that they collapsed into powder at the slightest touch. The creeping sense of un
ease only increased the further they walked; the skin between her shoulder blades kept prickling as though they were being watched, and she looked up at the empty buildings frequently, expecting to see unfriendly faces peering back. She wasn’t normally so easily spooked – exploring abandoned old places was hardly a new occupation for the Copper Cat of Crosshaven – but the misery of the people who had died here seemed to hang over the empty city like a dark cloud, a psychic extension of the sea-sky above them.
‘Look.’ Sebastian nodded just ahead of them, and Wydrin could make out three sets of footprints. They were smudged here and there in the inconstant dust, but clear enough. ‘They lead down the street, and they don’t come back this way.’
‘At least we’re going in the right direction,’ said Dallen.
‘Of course we are,’ snapped Frith. ‘I’ve been here before.’ He sounded as angry as ever, but he looked haunted, his cheeks the colour of ash.
‘And what do you suppose that is?’
Sebastian was pointing up at the great dark dome that hung over the city. There was a shadow moving up there, directly above them. At first Wydrin took it to be the Narhl ship, but after a moment she realised it was much too large, and moving too quickly. It was long, thickening towards the middle and then thinning out again to a narrow tapering shape. As she watched, it was joined by another similar shadow, and they curled around each other in a slow dance.
‘Are they wyverns?’ she asked, holding Frostling a little tighter.
‘No,’ said Dallen. ‘Wrong shape. And that thing looks bigger than any sea-wyvern I’ve seen.’
‘Lots of monsters in the sea,’ said Wydrin uneasily. She was thinking of when she’d impersonated a Graceful Lady; she had barely thought anything of it at the time, but casually insulting the Graces seemed a lot more significant with the ocean hanging over her head. ‘Let’s keep moving.’
‘We have no food for Skalds here. None of your hot food vomit.’
