But Haven did not appear to be a place of horror.

  Beyond the exit a broad trail ran alongside a ridge that led down into a series of brick homes, tiles on the rooves a deep red. Light flashed from windows as the sun beat down, oppressive even in winter. Grey clouds crept up behind it, smothering the blue. All seemed peaceful enough.

  A figure limped from one of the houses and waved.

  Schan.

  He ran into the village and caught Schan by the shoulders, grinning like a fool. “You’re safe, thank the Sands.”

  Schan grinned back. “And you, lad. We looked for you.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He glanced over his shoulder to where his guides drew near. “Can you believe that quartz?”

  Schan shook his head. “Not truly.”

  “And so this is the Mazu Clan then?”

  “Yes, though they are not what I expected.” He shifted his leg, wincing. “And you’ve met the twins, Rejam and Predi.”

  “Yes, they saved me from the darklings. Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine. They’ve taken good care of me.”

  “And Wayrn and Tanija and his people, are they here too?”

  Schan’s face darkened. “Yes, but all is not well. You saw the caves?”

  Ain nodded.

  “The envoy is alive and so is Tanija, but his children died from their wounds here.” He shook his head. “We thought they would survive at first.”

  “Oh.” Ain’s heart missed a beat as Bemm and Sae’s laughter echoed. Gone now. “Tanija and Ashia must be broken.”

  “They are being brave for the survivors, but the grief is there. They’ll be happy to see you safe.” He started toward the village. “But there’s something you must see first. Someone has been asking for you. He claims to have a message.”

  “Here?”

  “I can hardly believe it myself, but let me show you.”

  “Schan, who is it?”

  “Best for you to see it with your own eyes.”

  Schan took him down a winding street, moving through the village, which was a lot larger than he first thought, and past people dressed as the twins, many at work with pieces of quartz. A few raised their heads and smiled as they passed, and children peered from behind their doors, eyes big with curiosity.

  Finally, Schan stopped beneath another arch set in the rock face of the same ridge that protected the town, cutting it off from the rest of the Wastelands.

  Beyond a narrow opening waited a triangular chamber. It extended out to a smooth wall of quartz, which caught light from somewhere above the shadowy roof. Tiered benches of stone lined the room. The paved stones leading to the wall were swept clean, not even the hint of a weed peeked up.

  “Here?”

  “The wall,” Schan said.

  Ain moved closer. The wall was actually four pillars of quartz carefully fitted together, and while each were luminous, the first was cloudy compared to the others. He peered closer.

  “You have to touch it,” Schan said quietly.

  He extended his hand, placing a palm on the smooth surface and blinking when the milky clouds swirled. A figure resolved and Ain gasped.

  “Ibranu.”

  “Of course it is.” The old Engineer’s expression was hardly patient. His outline was touched with blue, just as the spirits in the Wards.

  He gave Ain a look and then mouthed words but none were clear. After a moment, the spirit shook his head and pointed to Ain, then to his eyes. Watch.

  More clouds swirled and the carcass of the sea beast appeared in the Anaskar harbour, followed by the empty, giant bones in the desert. Ain straightened. Of course; another beast! Right on the heels of the desert came a wall of fire, devouring a city, then came water, swallowing islands, people screaming, then ice and snow falling, burying a third city.

  And then nothing.

  Ain turned back to Schan when Ibranu didn’t reappear. “What does it mean?”

  “Trouble, lad. For the whole world, it seems.”

  “And Ibranu wants me to stop it? Sands, how?”

  Schan shrugged. “No idea. But I’ll do my best to help.”

  Chapter 69

  Seto tore open the door to his brother’s chamber, flinging tables and canisters aside at the bed. “Light,” he called over the smashing of glass. Otonos was a pale smudge against his royal pillows.

  Behind him Solicci banked the sleeping fire and fumbled with a lamp.

  His brother’s sunken face was skull-like in the new light. And still. Awfully still. Seto put a hand to Otonos’ neck and waited.

  Nothing.

  “Damn you!” he shouted. How dare the fool die on him now – when had he slunk into death? Seto slammed a fist into his palm. He needed to know if there was a hidden child, legitimate or not – someone close-by, something, anything better than a distant relative, all but inaccessible in the winter.

  “He is gone?”

  “Yes. The fool.”

  “He held on a long time.”

  “Not long enough,” Seto snapped. Solicci said nothing. The King sighed, walking from the room. “If he had lived long enough...” No matter. Nothing had changed; he had still to find a young replacement for the Sacrifice.

  And before that, survive the attack, save his city.

  Back on his balcony he raised Chelona again, but did not wear her. Could he do it? Become part of the Greatmask? Live forever? Or at least, until he found a way to steal someone’s body as Chelona herself, or whoever she once was, planned to do? Was it even possible? The Swordfish line might die with him. He sneered at the Renovar ships, but it was directed at himself. The line would certainly die with him.

  Unless he could find someone else.

  One to take Chelona’s place, one to continue the line. If it mattered. And maybe it didn’t? Who was to say Sofia’s House, or even Solicci’s House, couldn’t take over guardianship of the city? And do a better job.

  He glowered at the flames.

  Should there be any city left to protect.

  And he could stop it all, he was sure. Chelona’s power was...considerable. With her, he could blast the fire away, sink the ships, turn back the attackers. And all it would cost was a single life. If he was willing to make the choice for someone else. “You old fool,” he whispered.

  “My Liege?”

  “Nothing.” He replaced the mask within his robe. “Solicci, find me a good horse.”

  “It’s too dangerous for the King to –”

  “I can’t very well do nothing, can I?”

  Solicci opened his mouth to argue but offered no reply. His brow furrowed and he strode to the balcony rail. “Look there.”

  Dawn was creeping across the sky, its light streaking forth. Riding before it on a rising wind were a host of blue sails. Easily two dozen ships bore down on the Renovar fleet, one of which was sitting quite low in the water.

  “Who are they?”

  “No-one I recognise. Not with blue sails – and those prows. They seem old-fashioned. Blockier.”

  “True.”

  The newcomers flew at the Renovar ships, splitting apart to encircle the small fleet. Catapults ceased firing and though it was near impossible to see from such a distance, it seemed men scrambled to take up positions to repel boarders. Only most of the soldiers were already in the city. One of the straggling longboats was smashed by a blue-sailed ship. The Captain hadn’t slowed at all.

  “They’re going to save us,” Solicci said.

  Seto said nothing.

  All along the rails of the blue ships, figures stood poised to leap across the water to the Renovar. Only, for the most part, the distances were great. But each small figure made the leap, causing chaos on the boards. Their blue cloaks quickly overwhelmed whatever forces remained.

  The process repeated itself all around, all save for the sinking ship. That the newcomers ignored.

  “They’ve finished the invasion.”

  “They have,” Seto said. He leant forward. “But who are they?”

  “I would say –”

  Fire roared into the dawn sky. Seto blinked and Solicci fell back. The ship furthest from the wharves was lost in a floating ball of flame, the nearest two blue-sailed ships afire too.

  “One of them must have set off the acor,” Solicci observed.

  “We have to get down there.”

  “I’ll arrange the Honour Guard.”

  “And find Abrensi too,” Seto said as he ran for his knives. Who knew who had come? He had a suspicion but it wasn’t possible...was it? Whoever it was, there was no way to learn their intent from a balcony.

  ***

  Several times his troop was forced to detour flaming buildings that blocked the way. Swathes of black smoke crossed the streets. At every turn people had to be herded back into their homes. Once, Seto ordered his party stop to help battle a growing fire that threatened a pair of inns.

  He watched his men douse the flames with a frown.

  Solicci moved his horse alongside. “Still no word of Lord Abrensi. Nor Lavinia.”

  “It is disturbing that neither can be found.”

  “I have men searching the palace.”

  “Then that’s all we can do for now,” Seto said. “These newcomers in the harbour will have to come first.”

  Nearest the fires, bodies lay unmoving. Many were covered in char and ash.

  At the broken Antico Gate a skirmish raged. Renovar soldiers, their grey furs thick against the wind, hacked at a band of Shield and Vigil with a variety of axes. Seto ordered his men forward and they turned the tide quickly enough.

  He dismounted and joined Giovan, who stood before a sergeant from the defenders. “How goes the defence of the city?” Giovan asked.

  “Hard to say, Captain.” The man’s eyes widened when he noticed Seto. “Your Majesty.” He tried to bow but one of his knees buckled.

  Giovan caught him.

  Seto waved a hand. “No need for that, go on.”

  “Well, we can’t be sure but the Lower Tier is probably overrun. With so much of it on fire, we can’t coordinate properly.”

  Seto put a hand on his shoulder. “You are doing all you should. Go, rest your men a moment.”

  He bent at one of the Renovar bodies. Perhaps a little shorter than a typical Anaskari man, his blond hair and beard were thick, woven with chips of stone marked with bold runes. His pale skin was splattered with blood and his armour ringed with furs. At his belt hung a hand axe, a larger double-headed blade lying beside his open hand – it too smeared with blood.

  “Why are they here then, Majesty?” Giovan asked.

  “I do not know.”

  Seto remounted and they wound their way down toward the harbour. Several more skirmishes ensued, but they met no larger groups. Instead, only scattered soldiers, many who’d taken to looting. Those men he had shot on sight – his archer was kept busy.

  Not once did he even come close to actual fighting, so dedicated was his guard. It was both heartening and a touch disappointing. Along the way he even collected stray soldiers, and by the time he finally neared the smoking ruins of the staging area, large groups of Vigil and Shield had joined his party. If only he’d thought to bring Alosus as well, then they’d have really been impressive.

  Dead littered the stones. Shield and Renovar alike. Some of the bodies nearest the wall, now breached once more, were dark, shrivelled things. Acid burns.

  Seto glared across the water, fire reflected in its darkness.

  A new longboat had been sent forth, this one flying a small blue flag from the prow. Beyond, the sinking ship’s decks had almost dipped beneath the surface and the Renovar fleet was finished. Men were being cast overboard, their cries faint and the splashes barely audible.

  “Form up,” Giovan ordered. Soldiers arranged themselves in a wedge, supporting Seto where he stood on the broken ground before the crumbled walls. Smoke still rose from patches of the earth where the acor had landed.

  “What are they wearing?” The Captain pointed.

  “It’s hard to see. Something white hides beneath their cloaks,” Solicci said.

  Chelona’s presence neared, as if she’d swooped in from somewhere to focus on the newcomers. “By the Gods.” Seto breathed. Close enough now, he could see one man who stood high on the prow, cloak thrown back, hands upon his hips. The stranger wore a Greatmask.

  As did each of his fellows.

  Seto’s guard shifted, but held their ground, hands on weapons as a ripple of power seemed to flow from the strangers.

  The longboat nosed its way between other, empty longboats driven onto the wreckage of wharf and stone, and the men leapt out, striding forward to halt mere paces from Seto and his formation.

  The leader pointed, then asked a question. Seto stared, unable to answer at first. The fellow’s chest was covered in what looked like an external ribcage, bones moulded into something of a breastplate. Even his hands were covered in bone pieces carved to resemble long gauntlets. The white bone caught the orange light of flame and destruction.

  The man repeated his question and Seto heard the words properly. Old Anaskari. The stranger wanted to know who he addressed.

  “King Oseto, Casa Pesce Spada. And who are you?” He answered in kind.

  The leader’s head tilted. “I am Prince Marinus of Casa Mare. You speak strangely, King Oseto. Do you mark my words well?”

  “I do, Prince Marinus. Though not all with me will. To their ears, you speak ‘old’ Anaskari.”

  He laughed. “Then it is true, you are descendants of Those Who Fled?”

  “We are.” Seto looked to the Renovar. “And we appreciate what you have done in the harbour.”

  “Do you?” He turned, perhaps to admire the work of his fleet. “You may not for long, King Oseto.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because we are not here as rescuers, but conquerors.” The Prince said. “We are here for the bones of the last Sea God and for the fugitive you harbour. Turn him and the bones over and I will spare your lives.”

  “Fugitive?”

  “Vinezi Mare.” He sneered. “My brother.”

  Chapter 70

  Flir stood her ground. No-one on the ship but Kanis would be even half a problem but enough held bows that she had to be careful. Water dripped to the decks as she waited.

  Kanis flashed his most self-confident smile, but she thought she caught a hint of doubt in his eyes. “Well then, you better come below so we can talk...in private.” He started toward a ladder.

  The sailors snickered.

  “No.”

  Silence. Kanis stopped. He turned. Once again, his dimples appeared, but he was shaking his head. “Flir. Think this through. My ship, my men, my word is law. You like breathing, don’t you?”

  She didn’t answer. The smug bastard. How in the world had he gotten mixed up in war? That wasn’t his style. He was a liar and a thief, but not a war-pig. “You’ve really lost that much respect for yourself?”

  “Said the mercenary.”

  Flir threw up her hands. “Fine. Let’s go and talk.”

  “Thank you.” He led her below decks and the smell of garlic drifted up from the galley. The decks rolled gently as she followed him down a dim hall. His muscled arms were smooth in the light, shoulders bare under a grey vest of furs.

  A shiver of home, just looking at him.

  He opened a door and motioned for her to enter first. She seated herself at a large table. The room was a haze of costumes and the table was covered in maps, but all she really saw was Kanis.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He sighed when he sat, as if the answer were all too obvious. “Taking a better life, of course. Like you did, only on a grand scale.”

  “With acor?”

  “It’s necessary. Unpleasant but necessary.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Care to change out of those soaking clothes?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t try that.”

  “Don’t blame me. I’ve missed you.”

  She snorted.

  “No, I have.”

  “Enough, Kanis. What’s really going on? Acor, cooperating with scum like Vinezi?”

  “Another necessary unpleasant thing, that man. But our ends aligned for a time.”

  Was he surprised that she knew of Vinezi? He reached beneath the desk and brought a pair of glasses and a dark bottle of brandy. “So, Flir. Tell me what you’ve been up to these years. I heard only rumours at home.”

  She slapped the tabletop, hard enough to shake it. “You want to chat like old friends while you’re attacking my city?”

  “Well, I’m not planning on stealing the city itself. Just enough to change my life for good – you remember feeling like that, don’t you?”

  “That’s not important.”

  A thumping on the door interrupted. “Kanis. We’re under attack,” someone shouted.

  He stood. “From who?”

  “No idea, just get out here. They’ve got blue sails, that’s all we can tell.”

  Kanis swore, throwing his chair back. He snatched a large axe – it looked like something a giant would use, and charged to the door, where he paused. “You coming?”

  “Whoever it is might free me.”

  He grinned. “Or kill you.” Then he was gone.

  Flir thumped her thigh. He was right – she needed a weapon. She turned, scanning the walls. Nothing. Kanis barely had anything else in the room. There – a chair leg. Giving it a wrench, she broke it free, thumped part of the base from the leg and ran above.

  She gaped.

  The fighting was over.

  A few sailors lay still on the decks. Surrounding the rest of the ashen-faced Renovar were men in blue cloaks and behind them, hulking figures with mottled skin. Like Alosus.

  But even they were half-realised shapes.

  Instead, it was the men in blue cloaks she saw. Each wore a Greatmask. And more, each wore a breastplate that looked to be part moulded bone, part ribcage. Many wore bone affixed to the outside of their gloves too. Like Vinezi, only far more sophisticated.

 

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