The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) (32 page)

‘Don’t worry. I will take care. Mother ... Father, I am sorry for being the foolish son I am. I can only hope that someday I can undo what I have done, and that you will love me once again. I will not fail you again. I love you.’

‘You have not lost our love, my child,’ the father stated, teary eyed.

His mother was resilient, taking a strengthening breath. ‘Come, Marrag ... let us begin. We must commence the task at once, and you need our strength, also.’

‘Take these devices,’ Darrig suggested, glancing at his staff, but Marrag discounted the idea.

‘No, Father. Let them remain. Those left behind will need their power to build back their world.’

The three hugged and a blinding light surrounded them until they were black silhouettes within a sun fallen to the ground. It grew and grew, brighter and brighter until even the figures were gone and only the expanding brilliance remained, growing out across the scorched plain, where once lay rivers and fields.

The brightness thinned, but did not slow, steadily fading as it bulged across the earth. When it was too dim to be discerned, there, at its centre, was the body of a young man lying face up on the soil. On one side, lying in the dirt, was a staff, on his other, a ring … abandoned.

His eyes were open, but he had lost the strength to see.

His heart was struggling in his chest. Slowly, it lost its vigour, and the pounding grew wan—and then it stopped altogether, silence filling the space where a beat should have been.

In those last few moments before his mind left his body and he became akin to a god, Marrag Lin thought his last dying thoughts.

He loved his mother, but she was selfless and would always forgive him—she already had, completely and entirely with her whole being. It was his father that concerned him, for the hurt and anguish he witnessed upon the man had branded itself deep into his memory.

‘Father,’ he croaked, the last sound issuing from his cracked lips.

Then, with the spirit flown, there was only flesh and bone.

Beyond Summer

WORD SPREAD AMONGST the crew their goal was nigh, and just as predicted, an island soon became visible in the distance. At first sight, it resembled a low dark cloud on the horizon. Its features became more apparent as they neared and excitement flourished. They had long been at sea with nothing but the horizon all around them, so the premise of landfall was enough to have the deck full of men spinning in circles, arm in arm. Shouts and cheers abounded.

Leopold had long given up counting the days and weeks. He emerged blinking from his cabin to see what was causing all the hubbub, hung over from another night of unrestrained self-pity and consumption of liquor.

In preparation for their voyage, Lady Wind helped them to design navigation equipment and drew detailed maps of their route, all forged from her remarkable memory. So far, her work had proved precise. Presumably, this was the start of an archipelago that curled up from the northern shores of Koia.

The lady was beside her husband. Together with Captain Orrell, the three breasted the foredeck, gazing ahead. Riggadardian observed the land mass through his cylindrical spyglass, and periodically lowered it to talk vibrantly with his wife. He appeared in the best of humour, buoyed by the sight of land as much as his men.

Lieutenant Fillius called aloud and the willing crewmen made subtle changes to their direction, pulling and heaving on their lines, calling below to the rudder room, chorusing their actions aloud. At times such as this, when their spirits were high, one of them would take the lead, singing aloud and the rest of the crew would follow with a rowdy shanty.

‘Haul on th’ bowline,’ called the shantyman.

‘Th’ ship she is a ro-o-llin’,’ came the chorus.

‘Haul on th’ bowline.’

‘Th’ bowline, haul!’

There were hundreds of such tunes, with just as many variations. Leopold thought he knew them well by now—too well for his own liking.

Presently, the men sang with grins on their faces, all eyes locked on that precious piece of land. Their voices had not brimmed with such gusto the whole voyage through.

Judging from their course and speed, they aimed to round the island, rather than drop anchor. Leopold filled with disappointment, but he knew they were bound to stop at the next island, perhaps within hours, he told himself.

It was pointless to land here, for there was not a tree or shrub in sight. The island was little more than a crescent-shaped sandbar jutting up from the sea, a crystal blue lagoon taking a bite from its side. The water was so shallow and clear around it, almost entirely colourless upon the white sand, that their ship could not venture near for fear of running aground.

Flat, unmoving soil! thought Leopold. How we would love to stand upon it, for just a few moments. By the gods, he was sick of the sea.

‘This is Summer, the first island of The Four Seasons,’ Lady Wind announced. ‘It receives the constant brunt of the wind and never a drop of rain falls. These sacred places mark the northernmost edge of our realm. Once passed, the islands become immeasurable in size and number all the way to the mainland. We will reach The Heavenly City inside of a week.’

The songs and merriment faltered and faded as it became apparent they were moving on. They passed by Summer silently, forlornly, and continued across the open sea, all eyes looking behind.

****

At noon of the next day, another, much larger island came into view. A single mountain peak rose from its centre, covered in lush green forest. Temple tops protruded from the foliage and a few small buildings edged the beach. Everything was ruined and abandoned, with no sign of habitation. Thus, they glided by Autumn, with more sighs of regret resounding from the men.

****

The next island was Winter and from the excitement and activities of the crew, it appeared they would indeed be making a landing. Preparations were already commenced.

The water was tranquil beneath the ship’s hull. The sandy ocean floor was easily visible, with the Farstride’s shadow skipping along it. Fish darted and crabs scuttled to safety upon their passing.

Leopold wished he could leap in and cool himself, for the humidity had grown debilitating, demoralising. The sky was untainted blue from horizon to horizon and Leopold longed for clouds, some relief from the heat their rain might bring.

Nearer towards the island, coral blocked their approach. The Farstride readied to drop anchor. A call sounded and men drew in the sails, yelling and heaving in their teams, hurrying across the deck in formation like a re-enactment of movements upon a battlefield.

Again, the leaders of their expedition were out on deck. Jessicah was beside them, looking out towards the island with expectation as the wind blew softly in her golden hair.

‘Are we stopping?’ Leopold asked. ‘Are we going ashore?’

‘Yes, Leopold,’ Captain Orrell replied. ‘Lady Wind suggests we may find allies here.’

‘Agents were instructed to wait here in hiding, in case we should return,’ the Koian woman explained.

‘It has been so many years, My Lady,’ Leopold noted. ‘How can you be sure they have waited all this time?’

‘They are Koians, Your Majesty,’ the woman told him assuredly. ‘They will wait.’

The great ship gruellingly dragged herself to a halt. Her anchors slammed into the water and raced to the ocean floor, sending up billowing clouds of pale sand, a gentle explosion of grit and shells. When complete, she was confirmed as firm and the crew breathed a sigh of relief.

Captain Merryweather’s men had mastered the art of launching the landing boats along their way, and several of the little craft were already making for the island while the Farstride was decelerating, Samuel and Daneel visible on the foremost one. Samuel stood upright, stiff as a plank, while Daneel sat eagerly behind him.

Captain Orrell scowled. ‘I had better join them. Lady Wind, I expect we will need you with us.’

‘Of course, Captain,’ she responded with a thoughtful nod.

‘Take good care of her, Captain,’ Riggadardian insisted. Anxiety creased his brow.

‘As always, Commander. Leopold, will you come along?’ he asked, turning to the younger Emperor.

‘Of course.’ Leopold leapt to answer, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

‘Jessicah?’ Captain Orrell prompted, facing the woman.

‘If I may,’ she responded. ‘I would do anything to feel solid ground beneath my feet once again. But only if it will be no inconvenience.’

‘No trouble at all,’ Orrell returned with a charming smile that made Leopold cringe.

The four of them were soon boarding another of the longboats as it was readied to descend. Jessicah watched the activity happily. She delighted in the excitement, dressed in a fresh white frock chosen for the special occasion.

Leopold avoided her gaze. He sat soberly, set in his mood, rubbing his thumb against the hilt of his sword, over and over on the same spot to occupy his mind.

The oarsmen skilfully navigated between the colourful coral reefs and sandy shoals, following a pale blue strip that ran between them. They were last in a string of boats headed to shore. The water was as flat and still as a millpond, and the boat eased itself gently up onto the island with a gentle hiss beside the other craft.

The beach was a gritty mix of sand and fine shells that crunched beneath the feet. The feeling of solid, immobile ground was wonderful. Even Leopold, despite his foul humour, broke into laughter. Crewmen grinned and stamped their feet while Jessicah already had her shoes in her hands and was scrunching her toes on the shore.

The Farstride watched over them from her anchorage, looking serene upon the still waters with figures visible throughout the rigging, checking her over in that rare opportunity of being at rest. Equipment had already been pulled apart to the sound of hammering and sawing.

Samuel, Daneel and a group of soldiers were inspecting the forest’s edge, so Captain Orrell had Leopold and the others scampering up from the beach to follow. An array of noises the likes Leopold had never heard abounded from the trees: birds and insects and the howls of monkeys saturated the air, almost deafening.

Lady Wind behaved as if this was familiar ground. ‘This way,’ she told them, stepping into the jungle, heading towards one of the narrow, broken towers that jutted up from the canopy far ahead.

There was an eagerness in her stride and those who followed shared it. They pursued her in single file, pushing aside the wide green leaves and advancing into the jungle one after another. Only a few soldiers remained behind with the crew to watch the boats.

The jungle was dense in every direction, but Lady Wind led them along a route free of fallen trees and other such obstacles. As the greenery surrounded them, the jungle noises smothered them, sounding from every perceivable direction, incessant and unrelenting. Shapes leapt between the treetops, scampering, shrieking as they took flight.

Progressing deeper, it became apparent the ground beneath their feet had once been a path, now long overgrown and obscured by years of untempered growth.

A child’s laughter sounded unexpectedly from ahead and Toby sprang into view, bursting from between umbrella-sized leafage. It was a strange sight, for the whole line of explorers was abruptly halted by the playing of a child, as if he were a tiger appeared to devour them. Only Samuel was not caught unawares—which was, in itself, unsurprising.

Toby stood mirthfully, laughing at the group before vanishing into the jungle once again, continuing in his original direction. Daneel looked uneasy, for his weapon was half-drawn. He eased it back into place, scowling with his single eye.

‘Was it wise to bring a boy to a place like this?’ Leopold asked of the magician in front.

‘Emperor Leopold!’ Daneel called from behind with a voice of jest. ‘Don’t berate yourself like that. We all know you have long been a man!’

Leopold clenched his jaw. ‘I was referring to Toby.’

‘No one brought him,’ Lord Samuel replied. ‘He came of his own accord. Who am I to stop him? If he gets eaten by something it’s his own fault. I’d call that a good riddance and then we would no longer have to put up with him.’

‘Shouldn’t we send him back?’ Jessicah asked from between the magician and Captain Orrell.

‘Don’t worry,’ Lady Wind called from the lead. ‘There are no carnivorous animals here or dangers for a boy. The worst he could do is get a splinter or a bruise.’

‘Couldn’t he become lost?’ Jessicah asked her in return.

Lady Wind’s reply was lecturing in tone. ‘No one can get lost while Lord Samuel is with us. He can find us wherever we go. Of that I am sure.’

And Jessicah realised she was right.

‘I have a question, My Lady,’ Daneel called to the Koian woman as they wound along the path. When she glanced back at him he continued. ‘Why do you have islands named after four seasons when it seems, from what I have heard and so-far experienced, that only two seasons exist here? One that is hot and wet, and one that is hot and wetter.’

‘Our nation is large, my good man. The other seasons do exist in their appropriate regions. We receive volumes of snow in the highlands and mountains in the west. We have deserts in the east ... Autumn, Spring, all the rest. Names are just names, but all such seasons do exist to the south. Just not here.’

‘Oh,’ he said, accepting the matter. Everyone except the magician was already soaked with perspiration. Amidst the trees, it was even worse, for the air was trapped and still. ‘So we can forget about a cool change any time soon.’

‘You can,’ the aging woman called back.

The further they went, the more the path showed itself, until mossy paving stones were fully visible beneath their feet. The trail led to small buildings set amongst a clearing. They were ramshackle and dilapidated, with collapsed roofs and fallen walls. Moss and fungi grew over the remains like fur, staining them green. Smaller trees sprung up from their middle, bowing out as if to look over the walls. It had been many years since anyone set foot here.