The Map of All Things (51 page)

119
The
Dyscovera

Hearing the commotion on deck, Kjelnar burst out of his small cabin to see what the shouting was about. Full night had fallen, and lanterns were lit around the ship; he had been resting for a few hours before he was due to take the late watch. Now he felt the
Dyscovera
lurch.

Two sailors at the capstan had already raised the anchor. He saw men up on the spars, tugging the rigging ropes, setting sail. They spoke to each other in furtive voices, not the usual cheerful bellows, repeating orders from the captain. Before Kjelnar could even catch his breath, the night breeze stretched the canvas and the ship began to move. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Captain Vora had given no orders. “By the Fishhook, what is going on!”

The men paused, glanced at him, then went back to tightening the ropes, as if Kjelnar no longer mattered.

Mia emerged from where she had been hiding by the crates near the chartsman's pigeon coop and ran across the deck to him, her thin face pale in the darkness, her voice hushed. He wondered if she had been assaulted again. “First Mate, they've taken over the ship, and they're sailing away.”

“Who's taken the ship? What does the captain have to say about this?”

“Prester Hannes and a group of men locked him in his cabin along with King Sonhir.”

“You're saying it's mutiny?” Kjelnar clenched his fist and looked for the nearest thing to strike. Of course, the others wouldn't have let the woman sailor in on their plans. “How many remain loyal?”

She shook her head. “I don't know. The other crewmen don't talk much with me, and I can't find Javian.”

The big Iborian strode forward. “Come with me. We'll see about this.”

Off the starboard side, a group of men had hauled up a net filled with struggling forms. He recognized Sonhir's daughters and Aldo na-Curic, all tied together, dripping wet. Kjelnar stormed over to them. “You there, stop what you're doing! What is this madness?”

One of the crewmen looked over at him, flushed with excitement, not even afraid. “We've snatched some of the fallen sea people so the prester can teach them to be good Aidenists. They'll thank us for it.” He seemed to think even the first mate would agree with the scheme.

Kjelnar swung his fist squarely into the man's face, knocking him out cold with one blow. As the sailor crumpled, the big Iborian tore the other two crewmen away from the net. “I'll see you all cast overboard!”

The confused men tumbled to one side, stunned as their heads struck the wooden deck. How far did this mutiny go? Kjelnar handed Mia his dagger. “Cut them free. I'm going to see to the captain.”

The big Iborian charged off toward the captain's stateroom, where several men crowded the door. Not intimidated, Kjelnar grabbed two men by the collar and threw them behind him, then two more, as if he were plucking ticks off a hound. “Captain Vora, are you all right?”

He saw young Javian among the men, looking uncertain, most likely pressured into taking part. Kjelnar spun the cabin boy around and pressed his face terrifyingly close. “Get away from here. Go help Mia!” The boy skidded, stumbled, and ran to where the young woman still worked at cutting the struggling figures free of the net.

Inside the large cabin, a handful of mutineers held Captain Vora and the mer-king captive while a smug-looking Prester Hannes intoned from the Book of Aiden as if he were performing an exorcism. “I know what is best. You may command this vessel on her voyage, Captain, but in spiritual matters I am your master.”

Criston struggled to break free. “I am the captain in
all
things concerning this ship.” But the prester wasn't listening.

Hannes's angry view of church teachings had annoyed Kjelnar plenty of times during the voyage, and he had had enough. “Prester, release the captain and King Sonhir now—or you'll answer to me.”

But the scarred man looked beatific, utterly convinced of what he was doing. “I answer only to Aiden.”

Shouts and screams rang out from the darkened foredeck, far from the captain's stateroom. “
Dyscovera
is under attack!” Behind him, Kjelnar saw a handful of sailors face off against shadowy forms that scrambled up the hull and swarmed over the rails.

Sonhir squared his shoulders, even though the mutineers still held him in a tight grip. The mer-king's hair and skin had dried by now, and he looked like an angry god himself. “Stand aside. My people have come for me. They will destroy thee for such betrayal.”

Kjelnar was still trying to understand all that had happened here, what Hannes and his ruffians really wanted—but most importantly, he knew that outsiders were attacking his ship. He shoved the mutineers out onto the deck, not caring about Hannes. “I'll deal with you men later—fight, damn you! You'd better help to defend this vessel.”

Under the faint moonlight he could see ominous shapes rushing aboard, and dark sea creatures swimming in the water all around the moving ship. Then a large thump shuddered through the deckboards as something massive rammed the
Dyscovera
's hull from below.

Mia sawed on the wet strands of the net with Kjelnar's dagger blade, cutting the struggling forms free. Aldo spluttered, thrust his head out, then tore his way free of the net ropes. He recognized her immediately. “Mia! What's happening? Why are they doing this?”

She helped him to his feet. “I don't know, but I'm not with them.”

Javian came running up. “Kjelnar told me to help you.” As one of the stunned mutineers stirred on the deck, Javian expertly knocked him on the back of the head with a small wooden cudgel he carried, sending him sprawling again.

The terrified sylphs huddled against each other, still caught in the net. Aldo bent over and untangled strands while trying to calm the girls. “Hush. We're getting you out of this. I won't let anyone hurt you.” Rising, the mer-king's daughters shivered in the open air, and Aldo continued, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I don't know why any of this is happening.”

“Prester Hannes said it was necessary,” Javian answered. “He told us that King Sonhir needed to accept the Fishhook at all costs. He said Aiden would protect us, no matter what we did. I think… I think he is evil.”

Responding to the sylphs' underwater scream, mer-people climbed the sides of the
Dyscovera
, muscular warriors that seemed caught between their human and aquatic shapes. Frantic human sailors grabbed harpoons and spears, stabbing the mer-Saedrans, which only inflamed them to greater ferocity. The Tierran crewmen stood shoulder to shoulder, yelping for assistance as they tried to defend their ship.

Kjelnar charged out of the captain's stateroom, swinging both fists. Seeing nothing but a threat to the
Dyscovera
, he grabbed the wet-skinned aquatic warriors and unceremoniously tossed them over the side. “Get off my ship!” He picked up a wooden truncheon and struck hard, cracking the skull of a mer-Saedran whose hair hung in long ropy locks. The undersea warrior fell limp.

More and more mer-Saedrans climbed aboard, scaling the hull from all sides. Mutineers and faithful alike fought side by side in a panic, clumped in numerous small battles. Javian ran to join the fray, but even though Mia called after him, the young man vanished into the tumult.

Kjelnar threw himself upon several of undersea warriors, hoping to save fellow crewmen, but the big Iborian overestimated his own strength. As he grabbed two of the wet-skinned men, four more closed around him. They tore the truncheon out of his hand and tossed it skittering across the deck. Though Kjelnar bellowed and strained, they dragged him toward the deck rail.

Aldo saw what was going to happen and shouted at the top of his lungs. “No, please!” He turned to Sonhir's daughters, who had climbed to their feet, shaking. “I beg you, stop them!”

The sylphs wailed in terror, their voices shrill and vibrating, but the mer-Saedrans pulled Kjelnar overboard and down into the water with a huge splash. He was gone.

Inside the captain's stateroom, Prester Hannes slammed shut his Book of Aiden and grabbed a gutting knife from one of the shelves. “Those demons will vanish without their king.” Looking plaintively at Criston, Hannes strode toward Sonhir, raised the knife. “Captain, this is the only way. We must save our ship!”

But Criston took the bottle of kelpwine and swung hard, shattering it on Hannes's head. With a look of astonishment, the prester crumpled, sprawling onto the table.

Criston turned to the mer-king. “Sonhir, I did not mean for this to happen. This is not what my people believe. This man did not act on my orders.”

“Yet he did act.” Sonhir shoved the prester away in disgust. “He is the man who speaks for thy god. He has shown the poison in thy beliefs.”

“No, not my beliefs! Those words were wrong. I didn't mean—” He shook his head. “Oh, it doesn't matter. You must go. Leave this ship, and please tell your people to retreat. We don't want to fight with you.”

King Sonhir searched the captain's face for a long moment as a squall of anger rose and passed. “I shall tell my warriors to withdraw, and they will cause thee no further harm… but too much damage has already been done. My people can never be allies with the followers of Aiden.”

He strode out onto the main deck.

Terrified by the mayhem, some of the
Dyscovera
crew came toward the frightened sylphs, seeing easy targets, but Aldo and Mia stood protecting them. The young woman brandished Kjelnar's dagger in one hand and her own knife in the other, jabbing at anyone who ventured too close. “Chartsman, get them out of here!”

Frantic, Aldo urged Sonhir's four daughters to the deck rail. “Escape! Go back into the water. I don't want you hurt!”

Two of the girls dove over the side at once, arcing perfectly into the water and submerging with barely a ripple. Another stood shaking as the battle faltered; the last, boldest daughter leaned close to Aldo, gave him a quick kiss on the lips again, then backed away with a smile.

With tears streaming down his face, Aldo said, “I did not mean any harm, I promise.” She dove quickly over the side, accompanied by her sister. He knew now that he would never see their charts of undersea lands and Terravitae, their own Mappa Mundi.

The mer-king appeared on deck and shouted a command in their archaic language, which made the aquatic people pause in their fighting. Looking disheveled, Captain Vora also stepped out into the night. “Lay down your weapons! You men, all of you—stop fighting!”

Grumbling, deeply shaken by the loss of Kjelnar overboard, the
Dyscovera
sailors backed off, keeping their weapons raised. Across from them, covered with blood and seawater, the aquatic people glared at the humans. Never letting down their guard, they gathered their wounded and dead and slipped over the side.

Two crewmen dragged Hannes's unconscious form out of the captain's stateroom. Criston looked around, studying the men, not sure whom he could trust. Young Javian came trotting back to the captain now, stunned and confused.

After the last of his people had retreated overboard, and he saw that all of his daughters had returned to the water, King Sonhir glowered at the unconscious prester. “I will take that man with me into the waters. The sea will dispense its justice.”

Criston shook his head, even though he knew the mer-king's solution would be much easier. “I cannot allow that. He is one of my crew, and he is the prester of my church.”

Sonhir's face was dark, and the two men stared at each other for a long moment. “So be it. You are the captain of your ship, and you must endure the consequences of your decisions—
all
of them.” The mer-king turned his broad back on them, bounded across the deck, leaped into the air, and went over the side without touching the deck rail.

Prester Hannes groaned heavily as he returned to consciousness; he blinked his eyes and looked around. Ferociously, Criston shoved him toward Mia and Javian. “Tie him to the mainmast, and if he starts spouting his poison again,
gag
him! No one is to talk to or release him.”

When he came awake again, the prester wore a broad grin on his scarred face. The
Dyscovera
sailed on, unguided, pushed by the night breezes.

120
Calay Harbor

After devouring Prester-Marshall Rudio, the sea serpents continued their attack on Calay harbor. Vorannen tried to rally his city guard troops, but the soldiers now wrestled with a new kind of terror. “Even Aiden has forsaken us. We must go to the kirk, to beg for salvation!”

Queen Anjine had seen how easily—how frivolously—the monsters had dismissed the prester-marshall's faith. Her wave of anger built to a crest. “This is my city, and these are my people!” Anjine was the queen of all Tierra, but she felt entirely powerless now. She didn't know how to begin a fight against these serpents. She clenched and unclenched her fists… and in the back of her mind, she wished Mateo could be there.

Vorannen stood by her side, coiled with frustrated energy. “The soldiers are ready to fight, Majesty, but arrows, swords, and spears will do little against those beasts. Come with me, we need to get you to safety and hope that the serpents leave our harbor.”

She flashed him a quick, hard look of assurance. “I will not abandon my people.”

Archers launched another volley of arrows at the thrashing sea serpents, but most bounced off of the dark scales. “Majesty, I am your protector. After what those monsters did to the prester-marshall, I won't allow you to risk—”

“And I am your
queen
. I will do what I deem necessary.”

Though the sea serpents had glided away from the docks, the scraps of Rudio's bloody boots remained there as forlorn reminders. She shook her head. “If Aiden did not listen to the prayers of a
prester-marshall
, what can I do? What other weapon do we have?” Suddenly, Anjine drew a quick breath.
The kirk!
“Wait—Prester-Marshall Rudio had the right idea, but the wrong method. Marshall Vorannen, come with me. There isn't much time!”

After only a flicker of hesitation, Vorannen nodded. “As you command, Majesty.” Following her orders, he seized one of the city guard's skittish horses by the reins for himself and another for Anjine, holding the mount still so the queen could climb into the saddle.

Together, they galloped along the cobblestoned streets toward the stone structure that dominated Calay. Not knowing where else to turn, people had flocked to the protection of the kirk, where they begged the gathered presters to pray for them. Two old women clung to the cast bronze fishhook that stood at the entrance, refusing to be pried loose even though other terrified people wanted to take their places.

Queen Anjine knew that the fishhook could not protect Calay, though. Aiden had given them another weapon to use against such monsters, if only Prester-Marshall Rudio had thought to use it.

Outside the main entrance of the kirk, she and Vorannen slid off their horses and tossed the reins to bystanders. “Hold our mounts ready!” The guard-marshall threw the wooden doors wide.

In the nave, townspeople pressed together, swaying and trying to hear the words of three presters who stood at the main altar, reading from the Book of Aiden with a loud desperation that made their voices crack. Many of the faithful had come here seeking shelter during and after the hurricane, and now many more gathered because of the monsters attacking the harbor.

“Make way for the queen!” Vorannen pushed through the press of the crowd, forcing a passage for Anjine. “Make way!” She followed close behind him down the wide aisle to the main altar. The presters looked at the queen with surprise and relief, as if she had come to save them.

She was not here for the presters, though. The moment she spotted the long, curved object sitting in its cradle, she
knew
she was right. In addition to being etched with hundreds of spiraling key verses, quotes from the Book of Aiden, the milky ivory drew its magic from another source—if the tales were true. She flashed a hard smile at Vorannen. “There comes a time when we must choose to believe the legends. The power of Raathgir's horn must be more than a story.”

The guard-marshall's expression brightened. “My wife has told me stories of Raathgir from her beloved Iboria. If there is strength left in this horn, my Queen, we will use it.”

Together they ran up to the altar, scattering the astounded presters. Mounting the dais, Anjine and her guard-marshall rushed to the weighty ice-dragon horn. When she touched the relic, Anjine thought she felt a spark pass through the palm of her hand and travel into her body to warm her heart. “As your queen, I take this relic to defend our land.” She and Vorannen lifted it, and everyone muttered with awe. “With Ondun's blessing, it will be restored to you.”

Vorannen bore most of the horn's weight at the larger base while Anjine held the narrow end steady. The crowd parted, clearing the aisle, as the two carried the long horn swiftly the length of the nave and out of the kirk to where their mounts waited. Vorannen slung the curved relic over his horse's withers and lashed it in place with a loose leather thong from the saddle, as the queen swung onto her horse without waiting for assistance. As people streamed out of the kirk behind them, the two horses raced downhill toward the harbor, hooves clattering over the wet cobblestone streets. Ahead, at the docks, they could still hear the roars of frustrated sea serpents.

When they could see the full harbor, Anjine pointed to one of the largest ships still tied up to the end of a long pier. With both of its masts shattered, the vessel would not sail anytime soon, but the deck looked firm. And because of the long pier, the ship was close enough to the prowling serpents.

“Out there to the bow of the ship. We will extend Raathgir's horn—and pray. If this relic doesn't have the power we need, then Calay is lost.”

The ice dragon's horn wasn't a weapon like a catapult or a battering ram, and Anjine had never seen it in use. She'd only heard stories… and there were many stories in the world. Destrar Broeck had believed in the horn's power.

Anjine had to hope that he was right, but she didn't
know
. If the magic was just a myth, the monsters would devour her as easily as they had killed Prester-Marshall Rudio.

Leaving the horses loose, the two ran the length of the pier, carrying the horn together, until they reached the merchant ship. There, Vorannen tried to take the heavy talisman from her. “You do not need to risk your own life, my Queen. I can do this myself.”

But she gripped the horn, refusing to let go. “This is
my
city. I must protect it.” She knew that King Korastine would have done exactly the same thing.

The black-and-gold serpents hooted to each other and swam closer. The ice dragon's horn begin to shimmer with cold internal fire as Anjine and the guard-marshall carried it to the bow of the damaged merchant ship. Reassured as to the relic's true power, Anjine extended the horn's tip as far as possible, resting it on the wooden prow.

“Monsters, by the power of Aiden contained in this horn, I command you to return to the sea!” The eerie blue glow from the sleek horn bathed Anjine's face, hair, and body.

The serpents recoiled from the bow of the ship, as if they had encountered a great wall of heat. A loud hissing sound curled from their blowholes, and Anjine drew upon her determination, her heart, her need to protect her people. Power surged through her hands into the horn, which flared with a blinding blue-white light.

The six sea creatures, at first curious and fascinated, now backed away in fear.

“The horn will drive them away… but the serpents don't know where to go.” Holding the slick horn, she turned to Vorannen. “We need to herd them back out to the sea, chase them from Calay harbor.”

“How do we do that, Majesty?”

“By taking a boat and driving them before us—force them to leave!”

“In a boat?” Vorannen looked around, saw small rowboats and fishing craft drawn up to shore or tied to damaged docks. They all looked incredibly fragile. “I can't let you be so vulnerable, Majesty. Let me get other guards. With enough men in patrol boats next to you, they can use spears and torches to fight off any attack.”

But she had already seen the power cast by Raathgir's horn, and she did not know how long it might last. “The ice dragon will protect me in a way that your guards cannot.” She took a deep breath. “I am the queen. I wear the crown—it must be me. My order stands.”

Vorannen remained stony, then gave a curt bow. “As you command, Majesty.” As the sea serpents retreated to the center of the harbor, circling uneasily after being thwarted by the magical horn, Anjine and the guard-marshall left the damaged cargo ship, Vorannen shouted to his guards. “Prepare a rowboat for the queen! We will drive the serpents from the harbor.
Move
, men!”

Three city guardsmen scrambled to right one of the overturned craft that had been tied up in front of a boathouse. With confident balance, Anjine climbed into the front and rested Raathgir's horn at the bow. As she stroked its scripture-etched surface, she summoned more phosphorescence and power, though she didn't know how. While the stoic guard-marshall took the oars and pulled them out to deeper water where the serpents waited, one of the anxious soldiers called from the shore, “May the Compass guide you, Majesty.”

She continued to stare forward, holding the horn. “Aiden—and Destrar Broeck—have given me the only weapon I need.”

As Vorannen rowed tirelessly, as fast as he could out into the storm-churned waters, Anjine sat rocking in the small boat. She remembered a day from her childhood when she and Mateo had stolen a rowboat to go all around Calay harbor on a romp. But this was no lighthearted adventure. Anjine leaned forward, grasping the horn with her sweat-slick palms. She was the queen of all Tierra, and she had an object of great power. She was not afraid.

As the fragile boat came closer, the black-and-gold serpents backed away, uneasy. Reptilian eyes glared at her like cracked gems washed up from the seabed. Their mouths opened, showing long fangs; one held a few tatters of cloth from the prester-marshall's robe. They retreated as Raathgir's horn continued to emit its silvery-blue shimmer.

Anjine dredged deep inside herself, calling up her beliefs and mental strength, as if by sheer force of will she could add fuel to the ice dragon's innate power. Vorannen kept rowing.

Pushed back, the angry serpents let out a chorus of roars, but the talisman and the queen continued to herd them toward the mouth of the harbor. “Begone! Back to the sea!”

Though the serpents tried to resist this unknown force, Anjine knew that they did not want to be enclosed within the harbor. They needed to be guided—or pushed—out.

As the strange procession reached the headlands, one of the serpents noticed the opening, sensed the currents to the Oceansea. It turned to face the empty water and hooted.

Anjine yelled, “Back to the sea, where you belong!”

The monster needed no other encouragement. With an undulating ripple its sawblade dorsal fins scythed the surface one last time before it sank out of view. Following it, the five other serpents turned, similarly anxious to be away from the repulsion of the ice-dragon horn. With a splash, they curled their sinuous bodies underwater and streaked toward the open sea.

Vorannen heaved a sigh of amazement. Anjine let the ice dragon's horn slide back into the boat, and she felt dizzy. As the serpents retreated, the pale blue glow faded from the talisman, and the miraculous power rushed out of her, leaving her empty. She collapsed in utter exhaustion.