The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) (61 page)

‘I will come,’ Samuel said, ‘tomorrow.’ He pushed back his chair and stood, waiting expectantly.

The curtain squeaked back into place across the dais to once again conceal their host, jerking with each tug of its unseen cord.

The same captain was waiting in the doorway and he led them back the way they had come, down the hill and out of the dome without fanfare.

It was a surprise to return to direct sunlight. Leopold blinked until they adjusted to the brightness.

Their guide led them to the river, where a large oared vessel was waiting, manned by a team of black-skinned, shirtless Eudan men. Wordlessly they sat while the group took their seats, then the heaving began, sending them out to sea. There was no need for an overseer to keep time. They bent their oars in perfect rhythm to the incessant maddening drumming in their heads.

The Eudan captain remained alone on the riverbank, watching them depart. As they moved away, he glanced over his shoulder towards the dome, then back to the river. Slowly, he trod into the water and continued past his knees. Each step took him deeper, as if intent on striding fair to the other side. He moved casually, calmly, looking contented with his actions. The water met his shoulders and another step took it over his head. As he submerged, he closed his eyes with relief. The bubbles did not last for long.

The sight sent a shiver up Leopold’s spine, and he turned back to face the others.

‘What will we do, Samuel’? Captain Orrell asked. ‘He will surely try something.’

‘Perhaps,’ Samuel said, ‘or else he is so self-assured that he does not mind waiting another day for us. Time is nothing to him. He has already waited millennia. A day is inconsequential.’

‘But will we give him Jessicah?’ Leopold asked.

Captain Orrell glowered towards him as the question left this mouth.

‘Never,’ was Samuel’s assured reply.

****

The Farstride was waiting exactly where they left her, and the long Eudan craft carried them safely to her side, before pulling away in silence. The crew were well, although many complained of headaches. The intensity of Poltamir’s pounding signal had increased and was now clearly audible, booming far away.

‘We tried to move away as you said,’ Captain Merryweather said. ‘But we could not raise the anchors. Something has seized them in place. We were going to send someone down to take a look, but we thought it safer to await your return—given the circumstances.’

‘Wise decision, Captain. I will take care of your ailing men. I sense Poltamir’s magic below. Evidently, he does not trust us.’

Relieved to be back on the refuge of their ship, the landing party went their separate ways to rest.

****

Dusk was settling and men were lighting the ship’s lamps. Smoke and steam issued from the kitchen. Despite his generous lunch, Leopold hungered for dinner, convincing himself it may be more of the same delights.

He climbed up to the top of the aftcastle and made his way to Jessicah’s room. Nodding to the two serious-looking guards and receiving a chorused ‘Your Majesty’ in reply, Leopold opened the door and eased himself inside.

Jessicah was bound, looking well rested at least, and she watched him in silence as he came to the bedside.

‘How was your excursion?’ she asked.

It was impossible to tell which one was speaking—Jessicah or Rei.

Gently, he drew a chair, sat, and crossed his legs at the ankles. ‘May I know to whom I am speaking?’

She looked at the ceiling, her emotions indeterminable. ‘Does it matter?’

‘It was only a question.’

She sighed. ‘I think we are becoming less distinct as time passes. I find it difficult to tell my own thoughts from hers. I’m not even sure who I am any more. Please, enough of such talk. It is lonely enough in here that I could do with some chitchat, whoever I may be. Tell me of your journey. Was it eventful?’

‘Oh, we had some trouble, but we returned alive, so I guess that is the main thing.’

‘Indeed,’ she agreed. ‘How was Poltamir? Did he live up to your expectations? It has been a long time since I have seen him, but strangely I remember him well. See? There I go, talking with two minds at once.’

‘It’s nothing,’ Leopold said dismissively. ‘Poltamir is a disturbing man.’

‘What did he want?’

‘He put us in quite the predicament. He would not tell us what we wanted to know, not without paying his price.’

‘Oh?’ she said with interest. ‘What was his price?’

‘Actually, it was you.’

‘Me?’ she asked anxiously. To Leopold she appeared for all the world like Jessicah; but how could he ever truly be sure? How could he possibly trust her, knowing how devious and persuasive Rei could be?

‘Poltamir knew you were here—at least, he knows Rei is here.’

She pondered the statement. ‘Yes. He was smitten with me, but I never returned his feelings. My heart was always for Thann—Rei’s heart, at least—but I also hated your father for so long—and I don’t even know why. So much has been lost across the endless centuries. What a strange and twisted world it has become. I just don’t know about anything anymore. I can barely contain my grief,’ she added, confused and shaking her head.

‘And what of her heart now? What of your heart, Jess?’

‘It doesn’t matter, Leopold,’ she said sadly. ‘David will never love me, now he knows what I am.’ She gathered resolve and regarded Leopold seriously. ‘I think you should give me to him. It is better than this. Poltamir is a sad and unfortunate man, but he will treat me kindly, no matter who I am. I will not be happy, but it doesn’t matter. As long as everyone else survives, I can persist—and it won’t be for long. Nothing lasts forever.’

Leopold was quiet as he mulled over her comments. ‘I cannot make such decisions. Samuel will decide, but I shall talk with him nevertheless.’

‘He will not always be with you, Leopold, to give you such advice. One day, you must learn to make decisions on your own.’

‘Yes,’ he told her, ‘but not today. And for that, I am thankful.’

He left her there without saying goodbye, knowing that what she was offering was unthinkable, yet it was the best solution they had by far.

****

The men were at their meals, sitting across the decks in groups of varying proportions. The Farstride’s stores were thrown open and the last of their food and liquor was being served with the feast. The men were jubilant, drowning out the infuriating noise in their heads with rum and celebration. Still, it was a hollow joy and between every cheer and merry song, unsettled glances passed to shore, where Poltamir’s dome waited, throbbing.

Leopold found Captain Orrell high on the aftcastle, looking down and watching his men. He had made no attempt to brush his hair and his shirt was creased and untucked, completing a slovenly appearance.

‘Are you not going to eat?’ Leopold asked him, holding his own plate.

‘Later.’ A line of emptied rum glasses balanced on the railing beside him and his breath declared he had emptied them all himself.

‘Do you think it wise to waste the last of our provisions, Captain?’

‘I do not, but as Samuel puts it, it makes little difference. He seems to think this will be the last sunset these men will see, so let them enjoy it.’

‘You believe in his premonitions?’

‘I don’t know what he calls it, I only know the look that comes over him when he realises good men will die. I watched as the shadow crossed his face, and it told me what will happen without him needing to open his mouth. I’ve seen it many times.’

‘Well, I don’t believe it,’ Leopold stated. ‘We will not give up. We are Turian, are we not? We will fight until every last one of us is dead if need be, and we will not be defeated without trying our best. Damn what the magician saw or what he believes.’

Captain Orrell scoffed, laughing aloud. ‘What a change, Emperor Leopold! I would never have expected such rich talk from you. Here you are, the shining example of a Turian Lord, dressed proper in your Emperor’s best, and look at me—a sorry excuse for a man. Live or die, I don’t care anymore.’ He threw his head back and downed the last mouthful, then he released his grasp on the glass and let it drop into the sea. To finish, he belched long and deep. The stench of rum billowed forth, bubbling from the captain’s stomach.

Leopold set his plate onto the floor, and put his back against the railing. ‘She truly loves you, Captain.’

The man examined Leopold dourly. ‘Is that supposed to help? It doesn’t matter if she loves me or not. Tomorrow is our last day, and we don’t have a shred of hope. We carry the salvation of all those back in Cintar and across the world, yet we are lost ourselves. Samuel’s quest has doomed us, Leopold. It was impossible from the start.’

‘So it is not my crusade anymore?’ Leopold asked.

Orrell turned around to match Leopold’s stance, looking towards the stern of the ship. ‘I think we both know we are here because of him.’

Leopold followed the captain’s nod, for a cloaked shadow waited at the very rear of the vessel; motionless, alone, looking out to sea.

‘It’s true,’ Leopold told him, ‘but we are also here because of us. We all chose to come here, knowing what might happen.’

‘That’s true, Your Majesty. I serve the Turian Empire with all my being—I always have. The soldier first, the man second, but man and soldier both have long worn out. We are only human, and we can only do so much before our hearts cave in.’

‘I beg to differ, Captain,’ Leopold told him. ‘Our hearts can long outlast flesh and bone if we choose to retain our faith. And every soldier needs love in his heart, or what is there to fight for?’ Orrell did not look at him, did not respond. ‘Hope is not lost, Captain. She loves you, I’m sure, and she needs you. Forget the magician and forget tomorrow. What you and Jessicah share is precious.’

‘Don’t start!’ Orrell blared. ‘My love has become a maddened witch. I tied her down myself. She would chew my ear off if I dared near her. Given the chance she would stab me in the back and dance on my corpse. She would do anything to get out of that room—believe me! She’s tried already.’

‘She did?’

‘I went to her in secret,’ Orrell admitted. ‘She said such lovely things, everything I wanted to hear ...’

‘I understand,’ Leopold told him. ‘But just think how terrible it must be for Jessicah to be forced to do those things—to hurt the one she loves in return.’

‘I thought of freeing her,’ Orrell revealed, almost a whisper. ‘I took out my knife and put it to her throat, and she laughed and begged me to do it. I beat her, Leopold, oh how I beat her, trying to compel the witch out of her, but she only thanked me as I struck. Jessicah forgave me even as I pummelled her, while the witch cackled with glee inside. Only my men stopped me, Leopold, or I might have killed her. Do you understand what I say? If not for them I might have killed her!’

‘But you did not, Captain, and what you did is understandable, although regrettable. There is still hope for her. You can never give up on that.’

As the captain stared at Leopold, some spark of insight teetered on the edge of his awareness. ‘I—,’ he had just begun to say, when a boom sounded from below and the ship shivered.

Leopold stumbled on his plate as he regained his balance, smashing it under his boot.

Orrell glared around, searching for the source. ‘What by the nine was that?’

Men everywhere were on their feet with alarm. Another, much louder explosion sounded, shaking the timbers under their feet and causing the Farstride to moan as she listed, in her huge, unhurried way.

‘Gods!’ someone yelled from along the deck. ‘It’s the black powder!’

Panic erupted, dinners thrown aside and trampled as everyone rushed to their stations.

Smoke poured from one of the deck hatches. A figure stumbled out, waving his arms to breathe. ‘Fire in the hold!’ he bellowed through his coughing.

‘Get the buckets, get below!’ Mister Chapman was shouting. ‘See to it before we’re all blown to smithers!’

More men came choking and staggering from the passage. ‘It’s too thick. Everything’s ablaze!’ cried one.

‘Try the other hatches!’ Orrell called down and Mister Chapman nodded in reply, setting his men scurrying as directed.

Leopold went to move, but was startled when he realised Samuel was right beside him.

‘Poltamir’s work?’ Captain Orrell asked of the magician. The threat of danger seemed to have shaken much of the grog from his mind, yet he remained unsteady on his feet.

‘Perhaps.’

‘Those fires will be hell to contain, Samuel,’ Orrell stated. ‘The black powder is spread out, but even one store going up could spell disaster for the ship. Can you help us?’

Another hollow thumping passed through their feet and a muffled boom accompanied it.

‘That was from the forward store,’ the captain noted with distress. ‘One fire cannot have spread so quickly. Someone is trying to kill us.’

Samuel vaulted down to the main deck and disappeared into the nearest billowing hatch in one movement, even as more men came hurrying out, blackened and gasping for air.

‘Fire!’ came a distant yell from the front of the ship. ‘Fire on the starboard side!’

‘There, too?’ Orrell asked. ‘Leopold, our end may have come to find us early. Stay here. Remain out of danger. I will see what I can do.’ With that, he hurried down the stairs to join Captain Merryweather, Mister Chapman beside him, talking animatedly.

The crew rallied marvellously to battle the blazes, forming lines of buckets, filling them from the deckside pumps and passing them along, re-enacting countless drills since leaving Amandia.

The lithe form of Kali bounded up the stairs. ‘What is happening?’ she asked of Leopold.

‘There are fires below decks,’ he answered. ‘Some black powder has exploded.’ He scanned the ship with concern. ‘Where’s Toby?’

‘I haven’t seen him,’ the Koian woman admitted.

The next explosion sent them stumbling into the railing, and the Farstride rolled heavily, her timbers howling with strain. Smoke streamed from the side of the fo’c’sle, halfway to the waterline. A gaping hole marked the side of the ship and flames were licking out, blooming and flickering as they met the fresh night air.