The Edge of the World

by Kevin J. Anderson

  The manservants and guards were momentarily speechless; finally, one of the men gestured around to indicate their single small boat. "My lady, we cannot! Our orders are to save you."

  Asha felt her heart lurch in her chest. The desperation of these poor people called to her. The people of Ishalem, faithful to Urec. They were only trying to escape the fire, having left every possession behind. But the guards were right--the boat had no room, not with her pets in their bulky cages and baskets. Two bright green parakeets squawked and fluttered against the bars. She was surprised to see that one of her cats had been caught after all, and now it yowled piteously, fur bristling.

  Uneasy with the angry crowd, one of the soldan-shah's guards untied the painter, even as Asha tried to think of a solution. Before she and her handmaidens were fully settled, the boatman used a pole to shove his craft into motion, leaving the shouting crowd behind. Some of the people even cursed her!

  "Wait!" Asha yanked out her birdcages. "I'll make room. We can save somebody." Since she and the soldan-shah had had no

  sons or daughters of their own, her pets had always been like her children. Now she opened the cages, shook the bars to force the squawking and frantic birds into the air, ignoring her deep sadness as they flew off into the smoky night. She knew she would never see them again. Asha tossed the cages overboard. "There, now take some children perhaps." She looked to the side of the canal, reached out her hands as they drifted past the terrified people.

  But the guards ignored her. "I am sorry, my lady. We have to get you down to the docks." They refused to obey! Continuing to push the boat along the canal, the boatman picked up speed. The heavily laden craft scraped bottom from time to time, and two men had to push with poles to free them.

  Barely able to breathe, she looked over the side of the boat as it drifted along the canal, forlorn. What would happen to all those people? If the whole city was going to burn, as Imir said, where would they go? She began to grasp the horror of just how many might die here this night. "No!"

  Though the canal deepened as the boat drifted, the water was cluttered with debris and coated with an oily scum. Asha spied a burned man floating amongst the flotsam, his head above water, arms clinging to the side of the canal. His clothes were singed and in tatters, his face and hands covered with soot. Much of his hair was gone. And she saw he was alive.

  "Wait! That man needs help!"

  "We've already told you, Lady Asha. There is no time." The boatman looked up as a shower of sparks glittered above them in the night sky. "We cannot save him."

  The man feebly lifted a hand, eyes closed, face drawn in agony. The cooling water of the canal must have saved him, but he would die soon unless a healer tended him.

  "Stop! That is my order! We must save someone." The unwav

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  ering command that charged her voice sounded new and completely foreign to her servants. "We will take him. So many are being left behind, we can at least rescue this one."

  "But, my lady," said one of her handmaidens, "if you save this one, you must save all of them, and you cannot."

  "So I should just give up on everyone?" Asha straightened on her unsteady seat. "Urec would never forgive me for that--and you should pray for days to cleanse your mind of what you have just suggested!"

  "I will pray that others will help them."

  "He will likely die, Lady Asha," one of the guards warned. "He is badly burned, and these waters will have poisoned him."

  Stubborn, she commanded the boatman to nudge the limp figure with his pole so that Asha's servants could reach him. Guards hauled the burned man over the gunwale, and Asha snapped imperiously to her horrified handmaidens, "Help them--we don't have much time!"

  With clear distaste on their faces, the women clutched at the muddy black tatters that clothed the man's body. He groaned as they pulled him aboard, but he was deeply--and mercifully-- unconscious. He retched, having nearly drowned in the shallow water. His skin was raw, red and black, but he breathed.

  Asha thought of all the pets she had saved in the past, the animals she'd rescued--birds with broken wings, dogs with splinters in their paws, scrawny cats that had been tormented by evil boys--all of them lost causes, and yet she had healed them. "We will take him to the ship. We will tend him. I have doctors to heal his injuries."

  "My lady, your physicians know how to care for animals. This man--"

  "This man will survive," Asha stated bluntly.

  Though the fire raged through the streets and the great church

  burned, she fixed her attention on this poor human being who needed her help. She could save this one man. It wasn't much, but it was a symbol of hope. Even if he healed, the pain would be terrible, the damage great, the probability of infection certain.

  Nevertheless...

  Picking up speed as it entered the wider canals, her boat finally reached the harbor, a scene of further chaos as every ship tried to depart at once, wide cargo barges, narrow galleys, fishing boats, small one-person pleasure craft. The soldan-shah had his own dromond loaded with soldiers and salvaged possessions.

  Imir had arranged for Asha's ship to be waiting and ready for her at the dock, and she stepped onto the pier, rocking the shallow-draft boat. "Carry the pets' cages! Watch that the cat doesn't escape. He's the only one we rescued." She looked anxiously up the streets, searching for the carts loaded with her other pets. They should be arriving soon.

  While her handmaidens and guards rushed to follow her instructions, Asha devoted her attentions to the poor burned man. She needed to get him aboard, bathe him in cool water, and use whatever salves her physicians had. Looking down at his grimace, his shut eyes, she could tell very little about the man, whether his burned clothes had been the rags of a beggar or the vestments of a rich merchant. Thanks to the soot and dirt, she couldn't even tell the true color of his skin or hair.

  Aboard Asha's ship, her handmaidens gathered cushions in a pile so extravagant that even a dying man would have found them comfortable. They laid him out, careful of his wounds.

  She leaned over the man and whispered, "You'll be all right. I will take care of you." She began to sing one of her favorite songs, soothing him with a ballad of Urec as her boat sailed away from the fires of Ishalem.

  Ishalem, Aidenist District

  Across the Aidenist section of the city, Urecari raiders raced at a gallop as they cast their torches at buildings, but the fire was a living being now and needed no help. Instead of fighting the conflagration, Korastine's soldiers struck down the Urecari attackers with spears, clubs, and arrows, killing hundreds.

  The main Aidenist kirk was fully engulfed now. When its roof collapsed with a groan and a roar, flames belched from shattered stained-glass windows.

  As guards rushed them out of Ishalem in an urgent procession to the harbor, Anjine's throat was raw, her heart heavy. They had abandoned the few things they'd brought with them from Calay. Mateo was anxious to fight the fire or kill the Urecari, but King Korastine refused to let either the young man or Anjine out of his sight. "This is not a game we play in the castle. Tonight we are witnessing what may be the beginning of the end of our world."

  More and more people ran down from the streets, trying to get to the water as a refuge from the spreading flames, giving up on the city. Brisk, parched winds played across Anjine's face, swirling her light brown hair.

  As soon as Prester-Marshall Baine and her father were escorted aboard the royal cog, with Anjine and Mateo following close behind, sailors struggled to raise the gangplank, pushing back any refugees who tried to crowd aboard. So many people swarmed on the docks that the boards creaked, and several people tumbled off the sides. One sailor swung a boat hook, knock

  ing a man into the water. The shouting crowd grew louder and angrier.

  With a voice already hoarse from the thick smoke in the air, Korastine ordered his men to stop. "I am their king! Take aboard as many of these people as the cog can carry. Bring th
eir injured, their children."

  A sound like a rush of relief passed through the crowd. Then their voices surged louder as they clamored for the limited spots aboard the king's ship, showing very little regard for giving priority to the wounded or the young. The panic and desperation on their faces was raw, palpable. Protectively, Mateo moved Anjine to the meager protection of the raised forecastle platform. During the chaotic few minutes while frightened, moaning people spilled aboard and packed the deck, Anjine looked at the lines of refugees searching for safety at the harbor's edge; she didn't think their numbers had diminished at all. Every one of them wanted to escape from Ishalem.

  Now the king had no choice but to turn the rest away. Anjine could feel the weight in his voice as he told his men, "Detach the gangplank--we can take no further passengers." When the people on the docks refused to let go, still struggling to climb aboard, the sailors had to use axes to sever the ramp itself, letting it fall into the harbor. Crewmen slipped the knots from the pilings, used poles to push off, and the cog drifted out into the deeper water.

  Already, people were streaming away from the city center into the scrubby hills or rushing along the coastal paths to flee the fire. Others climbed aboard any boat they could find. Suddenly orange flames rose along the docks as well. Many of the fishing boats that were crowded in slips began to blaze from spilled oil and thrown torches. Urecari raiders were intentionally burning the docks, cutting off any escape. Whistling and cursing, they rode off, though the wall of fire cut them off from the opposite side of Ishalem.

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  "They are so bloodthirsty and hateful!" Mateo seethed, watching them. "How could we ever have tried to make peace with animals like that?"

  Anjine felt just as furious, although she wondered if vengeful Aidenists had done the same thing on the other side of the city, racing in to torch any Uraban boats in the Middlesea harbor.

  The fire roasted the night sky with a coppery glow. On the steep and sacred hill, bright flames silhouetted the lines of the Arkship. Aiden's ancient vessel had rested there for all of history. Now it was dying in one night. Anjine could not tear her eyes away. A great gasp went up from all the rescued people aboard the royal cog as the remaining timbers of the huge Arkship collapsed in a burst of embers and flame.

  "May the Compass guide us," Baine said in a low whisper.

  Anjine took Mateo's hand, and he was too angry to be embarrassed about it. "We're the last ones to have seen the glory of Ishalem."

  The unpredictable winds, combined with fire-borne gusts, propelled ash into the air to land all about the cog and its passengers. The world was now muffled, transformed into an eerie otherworldly landscape by the falling soot. There was no sound but the wind and the fire and the distant screams.

  She realized she was weeping. She turned to the king, searching for some hint of hope and reassurance. How could she ever face such terrible events when she became queen? "We can never fix this, can we, Father?"

  Korastine stared past the bow into the inferno. He kept his voice low, as if he didn't want the rest of the refugees to hear him. "No, we can never fix it." He looked haunted. Pale ash settled into the lines of his face and on his hair, making him seem a much older man. His voice was scratchy and rough. "Now there will be generations of war... the worst war our world has ever seen."

  Part II

  Two Months Later

  Outside of Calay Harbor

  The small boat scudded northward up the coast, dancing across the white-capped waves, a square sail straining on her single mast. The salty breeze was invigorating, full of speed rather than storms. At the tiller, smiling as the wind whipped the brown hair from his face, Criston Vora pointed out the mouth of the harbor ahead, which was mostly hidden by headlands.

  "There's the entrance to Calay, Adrea. Once we're past the lighthouses and inside the harbor, then you'll see it for yourself. .." He let his silence fill in the rest of the details.

  Standing close to him on the rocking deck, Adrea smiled back. "You've made Calay sound as magical as Terravitae. Now I'll see if my husband is an astute observer of details, or just a teller of wild stories."

  "Which would you prefer? "

  "Hmm, each has its advantages. I'd like a dash of both."

  Adrea's hair was a shade darker than yellow; her delicate cheekbones, pointed nose, and narrow chin gave her an ethereal presence. When Criston had first noticed the girl in Windcatch, he had thought she was a water spirit washed up on shore. Adrea had laughed when he'd called her that during their courtship, and he had loved her laugh.

  Before his brief voyage to Ouroussa with Captain Shay, Criston had taken his small boat on several trips from Windcatch to Calay, delivering loads of preserved fish, processed seaweed, or kelp liquor. Each time, he'd returned home with stories about the capital city.

  Coming home after the Uraban attack on the Fishhook, Criston had finally married Adrea, pleased with his sailor's pay and worried about the possibility of war against the Urecari. Although large-scale politics did not affect the daily life of the Windcatch villagers, Criston still needed to support his family. He had made three more trips to Calay in his cargo boat in the four months they had been married, and this time he had promised to take Adrea along.

  Now that he'd made the difficult decision to sign aboard a new sailing vessel, with Adrea's blessing and encouragement, he was going to be gone from home for a long time--if Captain Shay would have him again. He wanted her with him for every possible moment.

  Of course, they weren't exactly alone. Adrea's brother worked his way out of the cabin, where he'd been napping. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes and looked around in surprise. "Are we almost there?" He moved across the deck with the balance of a seasoned sailor on a rolling sea, despite his heavy limp.

  "We were planning to wake you up before we sailed home," Adrea said.

  Ciarlo, two years Adrea's junior, had suffered a severely broken leg when he was nine years old. The bones had never set properly, and now he walked with a pronounced limp. He dreamed of being a sailor, as did all young boys from Windcatch, but his movements were so ungainly that no fisherman wanted him aboard. They needed agile sailors to scramble up the rigging and stand balanced on narrow yardarms; one fisherman had rudely opined that he did not need another anchor aboard his boat.

  Criston could understand the young man's dream. He had spent most of his life on the sea, aboard boats, learning the nuanced language of sail, current, and wind, but he longed for

  adventure rather than simply going out to the same waters and coming back every day. The sea had called to him most of his life, and even his unsettling encounter with the Urecari pirates had not made him want to stay home.

  When he had asked Adrea to marry him, flush with his payment from the Fishhook voyage, she had accepted on the condition that he take her brother into his home as well. Upon learning what his sister had done, Ciarlo was extremely upset. "I don't want to be a burden to you! I can find work."

  Adrea did not let him sway her resolve. "You are not a burden--you're my brother." She and Ciarlo had raised themselves with very little help from their mother; Adrea knew how to keep her family together.

  Ciarlo had accompanied them on this voyage for practical reasons. If Criston did manage to secure a place in the new ship's crew, he'd have to sell his boat so that Adrea would have enough money for the year he'd be gone, and he didn't want her to make her way back south to the fishing village alone. She and her brother were perfectly comfortable traveling together.

  Now Criston tied off the sail and adjusted the tiller. He had built this craft himself, staking his catch and cargo against the large debt he had incurred purchasing the materials. He had named the boat Cindon after his fisherman father, who had vanished in a storm at sea, his boat lost with all hands. His mother, Telha, was a sea widow, like so many others.

  At the mouth of Calay Harbor stood a pair of identical lighthouses built from stone blocks and each etched wi
th a massive figure, the northern lighthouse showing Aiden and the southern tower depicting Sapier, grandson of Aiden and the founder of the Aidenist religion. The two lighthouses showed the light of Aidenism, and the sight was quite awe-inspiring for visitors to the capital.

  The sheer number of fishing boats, sloops, and cogs indicated that a populous city lay within, like a hidden treasure. He noted at least six military ships with long, sharp beaks at the bow for ramming enemy vessels. "I've never seen so many patrol boats."

  Adrea shaded her eyes, scanning the waters. "After the burning of Ishalem, who knows what the Urecari will do?"

  When the Cindon entered the sheltered bay, the water suddenly grew calmer. Calay was a perfect harbor: Like splayed fingers, inlets of deep water protruded inward, offering countless safe anchorages. Spits of land between the inlets divided the city into separate districts, making Galay a mosaic of different architectures, colors, and smells. The districts were connected by bridges, each built uniquely by the merchants, the rivermen, the farmers, the Saedrans, or the military.

  In the Royal District, atop a rise overlooking the harbor, stood the stone castle of King Korastine. Covered with barracks, armories, and parade grounds, the Military District watched over the northern peninsula, while the Merchants' District comprised the southern peninsula, a place for incoming traders to unload exotic cargoes. Warehouses crowded the wharves at the waterline.

  Criston was pleased to watch the expressions of Adrea and Giarlo as they sailed into the colorful bedlam. "You underestimated the wonders by half," she said. "I never imagined the size, or the number of people, or all the buildings!"

  Her brother added, "The whole population of Windcatch would vanish into one district here."

  Criston did not immediately guide the Cindon to a public marina in the Merchants' District, where he could rent a slip, tie up the boat, and unload his cargo of salted fish. "I've got something else to show both of you first."