The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) (13 page)

Whenever Leopold was not in the sails, he humoured Commander Riggadardian by wearing one of the regal outfits organised for him. The white pants were not to his taste, while the jacket—decorated with the finest golden-threaded needlework—was quite handsome. Of all the clothing supplied to him, this was the only item he found appealing.

Now, as Cintar came into view, Leopold returned to his cabin, changed into that one endurable suit, and strapped on his father’s sword as well as he could. He hurried onto the deck, where the grey-blue spires of the city were visible in the hazy distance. Despite his promises to keep both feet firmly on the decking when in his regal wear, he tiptoed up the first few rungs of a nearby rope ladder to gain a better view.

Lord Samuel, cloaked in customary black, appeared for the first time in days and stalked the foredeck to be beside Daneel, Captain Orrell and Commander Riggadardian as their fleet neared the city. Sailors and soldiers fled before him, creating a perpetual zone of emptiness around his girth that followed him across the decking.

As the bay came into sight, Captain Merryweather made the call to furl the sails and lay anchor. The other ships had already slowed, while the Farstride took by far the longest time to release the wind and rein in her vast momentum. Everything was done in its proper order, lest the forces harnessed by the vessel tear her apart. The teams acted methodically, shouting out in time to their work, lowering the yards and bundling the sails tightly one after another.

When they were positioned safely outside the rocks of the harbour with their nose pointing in, Merryweather commanded they hold their position.

A tremendous boom sounded as the two almighty anchors dropped from their housings, racing into the blue depths and dragging the links of enormous chain rattling behind.

Leopold had seen the mechanisms that controlled the colossal weights, hidden below the decks in two separate compartments where they could be engaged. If anyone ventured too near to those workings while in operation, they could be snapped up by the spinning cogs or levers and eviscerated in an instant. The men that tended the anchor housings had seen a fellow pulled in during testing and they warned Leopold sternly to keep his distance. The mess they described helped him to remember their advice.

The dark rocks that protected the harbour dwelt in front, soaked in milky plumes of spray that jetted up as waves rolled into each in turn. Beyond that, within the safety of the bay, many ships lay in wait, aligned and readied to defend the city. Behind them, the walls of Cintar rose, vast and impenetrable. Half the coast lay enshrouded by that towering stone barrier. Leopold was in awe of such immense constructions. Steeples peeked above them, along with the palace and its towers.

Striking up from the centre of the city, the grand palace was a marvel of pointed roofs and architectural splendour. Seakeep’s stony slab had prepared Leopold for more of the same, but the beauty of the coloured palace—as much as he could see—was breathtaking.

A variety of towers pointed to the sky around it: thick, thin, squarish, round. One stood out, impossibly high, so thin and narrow as it raised towards the sky that Leopold thought it should topple over. Then, looking to the other towers, he realised it was broader than all of them and only its incredible height made it appear so narrow. Breathtaking.

Having grazed his eyes upon the features of the city, his attention ventured to the landscape on either side. The ground was teeming with soldiers, which shocked Leopold, for he now realised their puny force of men and ships, as formidable as he thought it was, did not compare to what they faced. They should retreat before they foolishly angered the expectant hordes. A few beetles could not overthrow an ants’ nest.

‘We have not surprised them,’ Captain Orrell announced. ‘They knew we were coming.’

‘Of course,’ the magician replied dispassionately.

‘Where have they come from?’ Riggadardian asked in disbelief. ‘There was nothing like this in our reports. The Order should be scattered all over the country. We must retreat, before it is too late!’

‘Calm now, Commander,’ Lord Samuel told him. ‘I will even the odds for you.’

‘So what shall we do?’ Riggadardian went on. ‘We can fight our way into the harbour, but even if we get to the walls it will be pointless. We must be outnumbered a hundred to one!’

‘A thousand to one, or more,’ Daneel corrected, the scene having stolen away his characteristic smile.

Samuel, momentarily lost in thought, responded to the commander’s question. ‘Keep your fleet away from the rocks. Do not let them be drawn in. I will signal when it is safe to move.’

A laugh sounded beside them and the four turned their heads to find Toby at their side, climbed onto the railing and peering away with a look of mirth. It appeared he was pointing to the city. On closer inspection his joy was caused by a nearby gull floating upon the sea and calling with its squeaky, adolescent voice. He was not interested in the spectacle of Cintar or armies; the bird was far more appealing.

‘Get that foolish boy down from there,’ Samuel muttered. ‘Captain, get your men to lock him in his room. Let them beat him if he gives any bother. And look for the old man as well. If the boy’s here, he won’t be far, doddering about and readying to give us trouble.’

Orrell nodded and set men to the task. Most of the soldiers were dressed ready for war, donning their armour trimmed with Imperial gold and blue, crowding the decks expectantly. Toby giggled as he was carried away to his room, a wriggling pillow in the man’s arms.

Moments later the soldiers found Salu and were coaxing the obstinate fellow from his hiding spot, pulling him by the arms. Leopold had found a simple set of dull brown garments for the old man, and Salu no longer itched and scratched at himself so often. He moved along with them, protesting vocally, although unintelligibly, and waving his stick above their heads.

With the disruption over, Leopold’s attention returned to the bay.

A few defending craft inside the safe haven were moving out towards their fleet. The bulk, however, waited in place.

‘What are they up to?’ Riggadardian asked.

Daneel was the one to answer. ‘I’d wager they are hoping to lure us in closer, where they can pick us apart at their leisure. See? The smaller ships are bait to tempt us.’

‘Or they could be waiting for commands from their queen,’ Captain Orrell added. ‘She speaks directly into the ears of her troops. They do not use horns or signals of any kind; at least, none we have observed.’

‘What is he doing?’ Leopold asked of the captain beside him, for Lord Samuel had raised his chin to the sky and closed his eyes, basking in the face of the sun.

‘He is preparing. There will be a spell,’ Orrell whispered back, looking to the heavens in search for what might be transpiring there.

Leopold followed the captain’s gaze, and saw nothing unusual—a few wisps of white cloud curling about in the blue.

‘The witch is here,’ Samuel said, opening his eyes and levelling his gaze. ‘She has heard my call and retaliates; my assault will be first to arrive.’

‘What assault?’ Leopold asked, looking around in confusion. No one else displayed concern that nothing was happening.

‘Patience, young Emperor,’ Samuel told him. ‘The greatest spells take time to be known.’

Long silent minutes passed before the sound of murmuring rose across the men. Cries of excitement sounded from the other ships. Soldiers pressed in crowds to the handrails of the Farstride and those on the other vessels did the same, looking in every direction, searching. Many were peering below into the depths, many more were shouting and pointing towards the reef.

The rocks were growing out of the sea, rising up to block their view of the harbour like extending, blackened teeth; rather, it became evident the ocean was receding. Wide expanses of wet rock were already exposed, water pouring off them, creating multitudes of white cataracts.

Leopold wondered if their ships would be grounded, but the sea was deep here beneath their hull.

Inside the harbour however, the defending ships were quickly running short of clearance. Those closest to shore were already catching on bare sand and the vessels were tipping onto their sides with a groan of wood and shouts from their crews, some smashing over into each other. The retreating sea sank back rapidly. Those few ships that had come to lure them still had water beneath their keels, but they were racing the tide, trying to escape from the bay before it emptied altogether.

Two were not quick enough. They struck the sea floor and toppled, then disappeared as the retreating water foamed over them, dragging and rolling them, tumbling them to pieces. The two remaining vessels were nearly free, but their predicament was equally precarious. The water was pulling them faster as it shallowed, squeezing out between the various rocks that edged the bay. The sea surged on the far side of the reef and the ships were thrown upon them. The crews yelled in fear as their vessels crashed and men jumped for their lives. Some made it to the rocks, but slipped on the treacherous stone and vanished into the boiling tide.

Somehow, one solitary figure survived, clambering up from the far side onto the dry of the rocks and shaking his fist towards Riggadardian’s fleet.

Back towards the shore, the harbour bottom was now bared, and hundreds of men had fallen or jumped from their tipped vessels, left staring at their ships in confusion, standing in shin-deep puddles. Countless fish and various sea creatures thrashed and wiggled upon the sand, and closer to the rocks, pastures of dark-green seaweed had been revealed, fallen flat and glistening in the sun.

‘But without any water how can we approach the city?’ Leopold asked aloud.

‘Don’t worry,’ Lord Samuel told him. ‘I do not take without giving. The water will return soon enough.’

Another bout of murmuring spread across the ships. Sailors have keen senses when it comes to movements upon the water, and they were wary of the unusual. Chains rattled and men held on tightly as their craft became agitated by something moving unseen below them. The Farstride barely stirred, yet the men fell quiet in response to her timbers creaking ominously beneath their feet.

The ship groaned and shifted, then gave a sudden jerk as the anchor lines pulled tight. Something was dragging them forward.

‘The sea!’ came a cry. ‘It returns!’

And the man was right; the ocean was hauling itself back towards the shore—a mass of crushing water, sliding landwards ... immense and unstoppable. It was not a wave, for a wave rose and fell. This was the ocean shifting eastwards as one vast body.

The disturbance was less pronounced where it was deep, but closer to the rocks the effect was immediately apparent. The sea returned, surging and rushing over the rocks. The lone survivor turned to run, but had nowhere to go. He disappeared behind a veil of jetting spray.

Leopold clutched onto the side of the Farstride. Being on such a great ship did little to comfort him in the sight of such danger.

‘Stop shaking like a little girl, Leopold,’ the magician told him. ‘It’s time to be a man. People are watching you and their faith rides on your strength. Your mother is not here; you have no skirts to hide behind.’

‘That’s fine for you to say, Magician. You have your magic. I have…’ and he struggled to find something he could use for example. He shook one arm towards the man. ‘Puffy sleeves!’

‘Fear is natural, Leopold, but you make a conscious decision to be afraid. It is not forced upon you. You choose to engage your feelings, whether you know it or not. Your emotions can trap you, yet they are cages of mist and smoke. You can break through easily enough, Leopold, if only you try. That is your lesson for today. Consider it well.’

‘Oh, I will,’ Leopold retorted sarcastically.

Lord Samuel frowned. ‘And don’t call me Magician. Remember your promise, Leopold. I don’t like to be disappointed.’

Leopold grunted and returned his attention to the unfolding spectacle of the sea’s return. At least Samuel’s lecture had cured him of his anxiety. His fear of the tide was insignificant compared to his detestation of the magician. So be it! I hope the anchors break and we are dashed upon the rocks. Anything to be rid of that damned magician!

The distant figures of the men upon the dry seabed had noticed the ocean’s approach and they could be seen in a panic, insects attempting to flee. They could not outrun the sea, and as it bore down on them, it gathered speed, with its front edge building into a thundering wall of white water. It swallowed the fallen ships and smothered the men, continuing towards the city unabated. It hit the port, and the jetties vanished beneath an avalanche of foam.

An incessant, distant roar was the only sound throughout. Lengths of timber exploded silently into the air. The sea continued its charge unchallenged and it struck the great walls of Cintar with all its might. Only then was its fury turned aside.

Titanic jets of spray launched into the air and the initial surge licked halfway up the walls. Leopold expected the weight of the sea to pound the walls to rubble, but the barrier remained sound. The sea continued pouring into the bay, surging in and growing higher by the moment, but it turned at the walls, having met its equal, foaming and rushing to either side, washing up and around the city. It pushed inwards, climbing over every speck of land unto the base of the distant foothills at the edge of the plain.

The bay had disappeared; the surrounding land had vanished. Everything around Cintar had been engulfed by the risen sea, an island City within the haven of its walls.

Leopold considered climbing up onto one of the mastheads to gain a better view, for men hung from every raised space to observe the scene. Looking at his clothes, he decided no. He would catch himself on a ruffle or a shoulder pad and fall to his death.

‘The queen’s armies on the plain will be decimated,’ Captain Orrell said to the group.

‘They have perished already,’ Samuel said. ‘She had gathered them close to the city where they could be most intimidating. None made it to the hills. Her forces have now been halved. The remainder survive inside the walls. I will let the witch have her turn before I move my attention to them. Her response is gathering. The wind will rise. I will meet it. We must be prepared to sail in immediately after. Have your men tie everything down—firmly. Prepare for a storm of the fiercest kind.’