I found the deathblade in my hand. This woman was a viper. She could strike in an instant, or maybe she simply played for time, hoping for Ofelia or others to show up. I sheathed the knife and looked around for rope.
“I suppose I’ll need a candle after all. Oh!” she said.
I swung her arms behind her back and lashed her wrists tight. She opened her mouth at my command and I stuffed in a wadded cloth. I gagged her, lashed her feet and laid her out on a rug. Anger colored her cheeks. She stared with concentration. I suspected she listened hard.
I wondered then if this was a subtler trick than I realized. Maybe she wanted me to open the chest. Maybe that was the point. Out of it would spring…something deadly, something to trap me. I inspected the chest. It was bronze, with bronze hinges. Odd engravings decorated it. The lock seemed intricate. I doubt I could force it open. An axe would dent it before it broke, and that would make a din. I needed the key.
She knew where it was. She might tell me if I knocked her around, but that might prove too noisy. Maybe I could just carry it out. No. I would look like a thief hunched over with that.
I searched the tent and discovered a small iron pin.
The priestess made “hmmm, hmmm,” noises.
I knelt by the chest and inserted the pin. I felt tumblers through it.
Click, click—snap!
I grinned, removed the pin and made ready to lift the lid. A premonition warned me. I hesitated. Then I shifted around to behind the chest and raised the lid.
Pfft!
Something sharp flew out.
Thunk!
It hit a tent pole. I crept to the pole. There was a tiny dart. A foul-smelling green poison stained the wood. I glanced at the priestess.
She lay perfectly still, with her eyes wide and as she listened intently. I had crept to the pole. I crept back to the chest. I suppose she waited for a body to thump to the ground. I lifted the lid. The hinges were soundless. I saw a coil of silk rope. The strand was fine, too fine for a man to climb. I took it out. It was of lightweight.
“Hmmm, hmmm?” she mumbled. And she squirmed.
I let her squirm. It might be interesting to see what she would do.
There was a silver case. I took it out and raised the lid. There were metal bars inside that seemed designed to hook together. There were also three…they looked like crossbow bolts. I found a bag with little contraptions that made no sense. I found another case that had a long, thin pipe in three sections. Maybe fifteen puff-tipped darts like the one in the tent pole lay in tiny rows. A vial of green liquid was there, too. A blowpipe and poison darts—just what a Darkling needed. Lastly was a belt with the strangest device attached. It had a long handle and a spindle. I had no idea what its purpose was. Maybe I could figure it out later.
The priestess had worm-crawled and rolled three-quarters of the way to the entrance before I intercepted her.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She stiffened with fright.
“I survived your little trap,” I whispered.
I carried her to the cot and lashed her to it. It would take her time to free herself from that.
“Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm,” she said.
I patted the top of her head. “Yes,” I said, “I’m making a dreadful mistake. I’m sure there’re a dozen more lies you would like to tell me. And I know you’ll repay me horribly for these indignities.”
She shook her head. “Hmmm, hmmm.”
“You’re very earnest, and convincing. Here, lift your head so I can untie your gag.”
Relief showed in her eyes. She lifted her head.
As she did so, I went to the edge of her tent. I heard a commotion outside, shouting. It sounded like Ofelia argued with a guard. Before anyone entered the tent, I rolled outside.
I strolled to the inner palisade with my loot of ancient tools. I climbed it and motioned to several crossbowmen. They hurried to me. I clouted each with a small bag filled with sand and laid them down on the rampart. A gong rang then, an alarm. Guards began to shout.
“He’s on the wall!” Ofelia cried. “I see him.”
I had time to watch crossbowmen aim. Then I dropped over the palisade and began to stroll through the main camp.
-29-
Loud rumbles shook the Tower of the East. It sounded like an angry storm cloud. Strange lights flickered above the fortress. Did this mean that Erasmo had finally begun his Grand Conjuration?
The previous night, I’d examined my new Darkling tools. Each presently rested in a sealskin bag, wedged among cloth so they wouldn’t clink and give me away. There were sounds of battle from the distant causeway, while in the surrounding jungle altered men and a lycanthrope searched for someone, likely me.
I’d climbed a giant jungle tree. It was a massive old thing. It must have grown for hundreds of years. It made me wonder how Erasmo had put the jungle around Venice, or the ruins of dead Venice. There simply wasn’t enough time for the trees to have naturally grown this large. I climbed like a shadow, and I pondered the problem. I think the answer was that Erasmo had transported the entire jungle. The warm water, the crocodiles…those came from a hot clime. They were unnatural for ruined Venice.
The towering trees grew close together. Many of their branches intertwined with neighbors. I stowed my cloak in the bag. I tied the bag to my Darkling belt, the one I had acquired last night. I crouched on a high branch like a monkey and tried to ignore the odd happenings above the Tower of the East. I sprang. The branch dipped under my weight. I should have thought of that. I couldn’t afford mistakes. My fingers brushed the targeted branch. They slid off because my jump had been too short. I fell, and I grabbed for a different branch. My hold took. The branch bent under my weight. It snapped. But that gave me time. I grabbed a heavier branch. It, too, bent, but it held. I scrambled toward the new trunk.
I collected my wits and tried another leap. Slowly, I leapt from tree to tree. The last tree grew beside the salty sea. I climbed out on a branch that hung over the water. There would be no tracks showing anyone I’d waded out there.
I removed the Darkling belt, my boots, most of my clothes and put them in the watertight bag. The Tower of the East no longer rumbled. That was almost worse, the lull before the lightning storm. Grim menace radiated from it. I held up my hand. I felt heat, a dry and awful thing, radiating from the tower.
I studied the gargantuan fortress. Erasmo must have conjured it from another place, for no one could have built something so huge. Yet what kind of Earth made castles like that?
“Quite stalling, Gian.”
I nodded, and I jumped. With a splash, I plunged into the water. As I sank, I listened for sea monsters. In moments, my feet hit mud. Dirt billowed upward. Even this close to shore, the water was murky. The tower was that way. I’d memorized the direction. I began to walk.
The mud became grass. The grass grew into wavy fronds, the fronds into thirty-foot strands that slowly waved back and forth. I used my hands to shove aside seaweeds. There were strange sounds, groans, distant clicks and rumbles. Visibility lessened. The pressure increased as the slope went down, down, down. I kept walking. Then I spied a dark shape. It was huge. I stopped. It glided past. A terrible moan sounded close by. It was an eerie noise. I kept perfectly still. Even when I felt the presence behind me, I kept statute-like. The feeling grew acute. It moaned again. It sounded as if it made the noise in my ear. My back itched. I yearned to turn around. I kept still instead.
The water stirred. Something huge moved behind me. The feeling lessened. It moaned again. It sounded farther away. That was a sea monster. Erasmo must have conjured them. More time passed and the awful feeling dwindled to a painful memory.
I kept my lonely station and I waited. Finally, I could no longer stand it. The tower had rumbled and heat had poured from it. I had little time left. I had to hurry. So I resumed my trek.
Part of the reason I had not turned around to look at the sea monster was so I wouldn’t lose my sense of where the tower stood. I moved in slow motion and entered another kelp forest.
Walking underwater was strange. The liquid resistance slowed every action. It would likely prove impossible to hack or slash effectively with a knife underwater. Even a sword or axe would likely prove futile. A spear would be better. I hoped I didn’t need to fight underwater. I certainly wanted to avoid any sea monsters.
The strange excursion finally ended. I trudged upslope and saw the rock before I climbed it and broke the surface. The Tower of the East loomed above, and it was hotter than before. I felt waves of heat pouring off the massive structure.
The rumbles had resumed. They were long and rolling things. It made the walls shiver. It made those walls that rose forever look unsteady. The obsidian seemed all of one piece, as if giants had laboriously chiseled it from a mountain. Now I feared the rumbles would increase and shake it apart.
I felt small beside it. I climbed onto the lip of stone, the several yards of rock that extended beyond the wall. I felt the vibration in my feet.
I opened my sack and removed my boots and garments. I buckled on my Darkling belt. I stood beside the titanic wall. I was a fly, a speck, and as such, I hoped to enter.
Once dressed, I took out the silver case. It contained hooked rods. I assembled them into a skeletal crossbow. As I did, I heard crackling sounds like a giant fire, a monstrous forest blaze. I looked up. It was still dark beside the tower. But now a headier sense of doom filled me, and the heat increased. It felt at that moment as if the Earth wound down, as if these were its final hours.
I wanted to weep. Francesca was in there. Maybe Laura and Astorre were as well. I knew beyond doubt that either Erasmo readied himself for the Grand Conjuration or that it was already in progress. It made my actions seem futile. I was likely too late. He knew I was coming and he had begun before I could stop him.
“You don’t know that,” I snarled. “Move! Act while you still can.”
I cocked my crossbow. I chose one of the three bolts and attached my silken line to the end.
I’d reasoned out what the spindle and rotating arm did. The line was too fine for me to climb it like an ordinary rope. Fortunately, the silken rope had fantastic strength. It easily bore my weight. I’d tested it last night. The spindle and rotating arm were ingenious. Once I hooked the bolt to the battlement, I would tie the other end of the silk line to the spindle. Then I would rotate the arm and haul myself up.
I raised the stock to my shoulder, ignored the strange flickers of light, sighted and squeezed the trigger. The steel bow snapped and up flashed the bolt. It trailed the fine silken line behind. It zoomed courageously, climbed, climbed, and then slowed and reached its final height.
The bolt tumbled down.
With a sick sense of doom, I rewound the line and cocked the crossbow again. I held the stock perfectly still. I muttered to my bolt. I told it I had to get within, and I fired. As it sped upward, I wondered if the Moon Lady might see to it that my bolt made it to the towering battlement. No. She did not. The bolt failed like before and fell back to my waiting hand. I couldn’t fire my bolt high enough. A third try would be meaningless. I rewound the line and stowed it in the bag.
An eerie voice spoke then. It spoke from the grand heights. The walls shivered and grated ominously. Chips of obsidian slid off and splashed into the water. A clap of thunder sounded, and then all was still. The walls stopped shaking.
It left me shaking. With trembling hands, I unhooked the sections that made up my skeletal crossbow and stowed it in its carrying bag. Like a peddler chased by hounds, I began to race around the base of the wall. I studied the tower as I ran. Soon, I noticed a strong urine stench.
A hundred feet above me was a grate of sound. I yelped, because something moved. I thought it was the end. Instead, human waste gushed out. The foul mess hit the water. Fish darted up. I strode away, disgusted. After several dozen strides, however, I stopped and looked back.
Fish had come up. Catfish, crabs and other sea creatures fed off the refuge. I snapped my fingers. That meant…meant…there had to be a reason why enemy galleys never approached the Tower of the East. Yes, of course. I wondered why I hadn’t seen it earlier. Because of caves, I told myself.
I no longer had time to be squeamish. The end of the world as I knew it was near. I may already have been too late. Yet I had to try. I had to keep moving. I was the Darkling, the Moon Lady’s reluctant champion.
I studied the water and the tower as I hurried. Something about the water changed shortly. This part of the tower faced the open sea. That would make sense. If you kept sea monsters to attack ships, to guard your castle, you kept them near where the enemy would appear.
I removed my boots, my clothes and climbed down the rock and into the water. I found a cave. It always came down to caves. Grass and seaweeds grew everywhere in abundance, but not around the cave entrance. The cave went into the rock, the rock the tower stood on.
I climbed out of the water, ripped opened my bag and assembled my skeletal crossbow. Then I took out a howler. They were small and metallic, with springs and latches. I’d discovered their use last night. I twisted the spring and flicked the switch. Then I set down both the crossbow and howler and stowed my boots and clothes in the bag. I tied the bag tight. I made sure everything was ready. Then I readied the crossbow and set the howler in the groove. I judged angles, muttered to myself and flicked the switch, aimed, shot. The howler tumbled end over end. I winced as I watched. I had shot it too high. If it went off while in the air—
It plopped into the water. A half-second later, I heard something. Would sea monsters hear that? Would they care? I grabbed the bag and watched the water. It had to work, or were the sea monsters all away. I could have just—a vast shape shot out of the cave. It was like an eel, but longer than a galley. It had rows of teeth. Another followed behind. They swam wickedly fast. They seemed angry. A third and fourth monster shot out after them. I waited. Was there a fifth?
I slipped into the water and climbed down the rock. I aimed toward the cave mouth, soon hung above it. The murky water hid the sea monsters. I hoped it hid me from them. Despite my urgency, I waited. No more monsters shot out. I let go of the rock and floated down before the entrance. Once I touched bottom, I trudged as fast as I could.