The Iron Ghost (44 page)

‘There have been stories whispered in the hunting places,’ said Ceriel, her face grim. ‘Stories about a great monster that has wiped out entire settlements.’

‘They said anyone who was touched by it went mad,’ put in one of her men. ‘It is one of the old monsters returned. Our world is ending.’

‘Believe me, there is a man controlling it,’ said Dallen. ‘A man we can defeat, if we get to Temerayne.’

‘He has killed many of my people,’ added Nuava, swallowing against some internal grief. ‘I know that will mean nothing to you – you may even be pleased, I don’t know – but he cares nothing for the Narhl either, and if he finds you, he will kill you.’

‘Please,’ said Sebastian. ‘We are fighting to protect your lands.’

Ceriel fell quiet, looking at them each in turn. Behind her the dwellings of Turningspear sprouted like the shining black carapaces of some strange sea creature.

‘We will take you as far as The Judgement of Res’ni, and what you do from there is your own affair. I will take you myself, with our fastest sea-wyverns.’

‘Great. You are too kind. The Judgement of Res’ni sounds interesting,’ said Wydrin. ‘Wait, did you say sea-wyverns?’

The sea-wyverns were tethered to the sides of an impressive long boat, carved of dark wood and painted with fanged, snarling faces. There were three wyverns on either side, each a good ten feet long. They strongly resembled their flying cousins, but they had no wings, and their skins were silver rather than blue, glittering wetly with diamond-shaped scales. Their long faces were fringed with stiff white whiskers, and their eyes were pale moons. Sebastian stood and looked over the side of the ship, remembering Prince Dallen looming out of the dark on the back of his flying wyvern. That had been quite a shock. The sea-wyverns moved in a similar way, but instead of cutting through the air they slid through the sea like silver knives, churning the waves into a white frenzy. There were Narhl men and women riding on their backs, apparently guiding them to their destination. He could feel the wyverns down there – a cold silver thread in his heart, as the snakes had been.

Nuava had retreated to the small hold below, her lips drawn into a thin, unhappy line, but Wydrin was as at home as she’d ever been, examining every inch of the ship and asking endless questions of Ceriel. Frith was standing apart from them, resting against the still form of Mendrick. The Narhl crew were less than pleased by the presence of the werken, which they seemed to regard with both sadness and anger.

‘This Temerayne place,’ Wydrin was asking now, ‘you said it was cursed?’

‘You have not heard the story?’ Ceriel raised one lichen-covered eyebrow. ‘These hot southern places, they forget everything so quickly. You know of the gods Res’ni and Res’na? The twin wolf gods of chaos and order?’

Sebastian remembered the eggs in the Rookery, and how two of them had been etched with the shape of identical wolves. That had been just after Gallo had died.

‘We know of them,’ he said shortly.

‘Well, once Temerayne was the wonder of the North. A great and shining city, a place of great civilisation and learning. It was said that you could see the lights from the towers halfway across Ede, and that every child born there was blessed. They remembered the old gods there – although then, of course, they were not so old – and every street had a shrine: to Y’Gria, Y’Ruen, O’rin, Res’ni and Res’na. The years passed and a new king took the throne of Temerayne, a man who prized civilisation and order above everything else. To him, the gods looked unruly. Distasteful. All save for Res’na, god of order and balance. He commanded that all the shrines be destroyed, and a new, central shrine be built for Res’na alone. Temerayne would be a beacon for order and peace.’

‘Ah yes, destroying shrines,’ said Wydrin. ‘That’s always a clever move. Can’t go wrong with that.’

The tiniest hint of a smile blossomed at the corner of Ceriel’s mouth.

‘For a time, the city prospered. But the gods are always watching, or at least they were then, and soon Res’ni came to hear of this place, this place that venerated her brother but disregarded the other gods. She became wrathful.’

‘She was the god of chaos,’ added Dallen. ‘Always unpredictable, always wild.’

‘Res’ni sank the city of Temerayne beneath the sea,’ said Ceriel, ‘but not before sealing it over. No one escaped, and they lived out what was left of their lives trapped in that deadly prison. Res’ni decreed that if they wanted order, and a world unchanged, then they would have it, for ever.’

‘Never piss off a god,’ said Wydrin. ‘That’s what I always say.’

Sebastian smiled faintly. ‘Did you not once smack Y’Ruen about the ear with that very same blade you’re wearing at your waist, Copper Cat of Crosshaven?’

Wydrin shrugged. ‘Never piss off a god, unless it happens to be really funny at the time.’

Ceriel frowned at them both, apparently trying to decide if they were joking.

‘The city of Temerayne has been down there ever since,’ said Dallen. ‘Cursed and haunted, no doubt.’

‘So this place is under the sea?’ Wydrin puffed out her cheeks. ‘You know, I may just have spotted our first problem.’

Ceriel looked serious again. ‘When it was over, Res’ni left a monument to her punishment, and it is said that there is a way through to the lost city below.’

‘Joah made it down there somehow,’ said Frith quietly. ‘When he fled from the mages.’

‘As far as I know, no one living has ever been foolish enough to try it,’ said Ceriel. ‘Warmlings, it seems, have no sense at all.’

Wydrin laughed and lightly punched the tall woman on the arm. ‘Ha! You’ve just got no sense of adventure.’

The ship sped on as the sky above them turned from bright blue to washed-out white, the taste of salt on every breath when a flurry of shouts from the wyvern riders at the sides of the ship announced that they had reached their destination. Sebastian moved to the prow of the ship with Dallen and Wydrin. Frith appeared behind them, his face ashen.

‘There you have it,’ said Dallen. He sounded as though he barely believed it himself. ‘The Judgement of Res’ni.’

Ahead of them a giant wolf’s head rent the ocean in two, apparently snapping at the sky above. It was a monstrous thing constructed of black rock, twice as tall as the tower in Pinehold had been and lashed with frothing waves. Curving black fangs jutted from the open muzzle, and from the side Sebastian could see a single eye, yellow and shining and mad. It was gold, he realised; an enormous eye made of gold.
Truly, the people must be afraid of it,
he thought,
or they would have prised that off centuries ago
.

‘That doesn’t look like it’s going to be very easy to get into,’ said Wydrin.

As they drew closer, Sebastian could make out rough symbols carved into the rock just above the wolf’s giant staring eye. They appeared to be mages’ words.

‘It says “Order for all time”,’ said Frith, confirming Sebastian’s suspicions. ‘It looks like the stories are true.’

‘You will have to climb up to the corner of its mouth, do you see?’ Ceriel pointed to where the jaws met. That close to the sea, the rock was pitted and covered in barnacles and other sea life. ‘In its throat, you will find the way down.’

‘Can your wyverns get us that close, do you think?’ asked Wydrin. Ceriel smiled coldly.

‘They might be persuaded to carry you for a short time,’ she said. ‘But not your spirit slave.’

Sebastian saw Wydrin look back towards Mendrick, and sensed some sort of communication between them. Eventually she shrugged.

‘He will stay here with you. And the girl. Nuava’s been through more than enough lately, without being asked to jump into a wolf’s jaws. It’ll be me, Sebastian and Dallen going down there.’

Ceriel opened her mouth to reply, but Frith spoke over her. ‘Have you forgotten me already?’

Wydrin shook her head. ‘You’re not well enough, princeling. You need to rest up. You can leave this one to us – we’re the professional adventurers, after all.’

‘It was the Black Feather Three, last time I looked,’ he said hotly. ‘Or have you already forgotten how my magic has aided you?’

‘Oh, but I thought you were leaving all that behind.’ Wydrin crossed her arms over her chest. ‘You have more important things to do, after all, like getting wed and producing more little princelings.’

‘By all the gods,’ Sebastian held up his hands, ‘we don’t have time for this. Frith, we are just concerned—’

‘The demon will have left traps down there for us, don’t you doubt it. Without my magic, you will be dead in moments.’ He glared at them both, and despite his deathly pallor his grey eyes were bright again. ‘Besides which, I know where the god-blade is. You need me down there.’

‘Fine,’ said Wydrin. She looked back towards The Judgement of Res’ni, her eyes narrowing. ‘I think we’re going to need all the help we can get.’

In the end the four of them travelled across to the statue of Res’ni on the back of two sea-wyverns, each guided by a Narhl warrior. Settling as best he could in the wet leather saddle, Sebastian turned to see Wydrin waving to Nuava, who was leaning out over the side-rail. Dallen and Frith sat on the other wyvern, the prince looking much more comfortable than the lord. Sebastian suspected that dipping his boots in ice-cold water was doing Frith no good at all, but he was much too stubborn to admit it. For the briefest moment Sebastian considered reaching out to the mind of the animal beneath him, but he remembered how the snakes had writhed and hissed. Some things were best left alone.

The wyverns brought them as close as they could get to the bottom of the wolf’s head, and they set about climbing the pitted rock face while the Narhl riders looked on. Sebastian could see Wydrin above him, moving with confidence and shouting the occasional curse word, and below he could hear the steadier progress of Dallen. How Frith was faring, he could not tell, but he reminded himself that when they had explored the Citadel, Frith had needed a stick to walk with, and he had still managed to make that journey.

Eventually, Wydrin’s slim shape disappeared over the corner of the wolf’s jaw, and he followed her shortly after. They stood in a dark space carved from rock, with a wide hole in the centre containing a set of spiralling steps. The roar of the waves crashing against the rock was deafening, and they were both soaking wet. After a few moments, Dallen hauled himself over the edge, followed by Frith. The young lord looked as pale as Sebastian had ever seen him, and the hand he leaned against the rock was trembling. The four of them looked at each other.

‘Well, it seems there is a way down after all,’ said Wydrin. ‘Do you want to place bets on how far we get before we get our feet wet again?’

‘More to the point, even if we retrieve the god-blade and make it back up here, how do we know they’ll still be here?’ said Frith, pointing back to the gap in the stone. The teeth of the wolf cut the sky into jagged sections. ‘Having the sword will do us no good at all if we’re stuck in the middle of the ocean.’

‘They said they’d wait until sunset,’ said Wydrin, shrugging. ‘I think they mean it, and Mendrick trusts them.’

‘My people do not break their oaths, Lord Frith,’ said Dallen.

‘In that case, let’s get a move on.’ Wydrin pulled the light-globe from her pack and passed it to Frith, eyeing the dark staircase warily. ‘And best keep our weapons drawn.’

The way down was dark and echoed with the fury of the sea. They had to walk single file, so Wydrin kept her dagger at waist height and a careful eye on where she was putting her feet. Dallen was at the very front, and as yet had reported that the steps were dry. That, she figured, was a good start.

‘So, Frith, do you feel like telling us what you remember of this place from that ghost’s memories?’ Her voice echoed flatly off the walls. ‘What can we expect to find down here?’

There were a few moments of quiet before Frith answered, the sound of boots on stone filling the narrow staircase.

‘I saw very little,’ he said eventually. ‘It was a grand, silent place, filled with dust. The two mages pursued Joah to a great tomb, and that was where they made their final stand.’ He paused to cough. ‘It ended badly. For all of them.’

‘Sounds like it ended badly for everyone in this city,’ said Wydrin. ‘Let’s hope we have more luck.’

They walked on for some time before Dallen called out and they came to a stop. After a moment Frith put away the light-globe and Wydrin saw that there was another light source: a rippling silvery glow, like the moon on water. The stairs had come to an end and they were in another dark round room with a large hole in the floor; it was this hole that shimmered with silver light. It was like looking into a pool of bright water, except that beyond it . . .

‘Am I seeing that right?’ Wydrin took an involuntary step backwards. ‘Because if I am, I might have to throw up.’

The city of Temerayne lay beneath them, filtered through the pool as though they hung in the sky above it. Wydrin could see buildings of white marble and streets of pale green brick, all perfectly empty. Nothing down there moved.

‘The lost city of Temerayne,’ said Dallen, his voice hushed. ‘I can barely believe it. That it has been hidden down here, all these thousands of years.’

‘More to the point, how do we get down there?’ said Sebastian. ‘And how do we get back up?’

He knelt by the pool of light and pushed the point of his dirk past its surface. When nothing happened, he did the same with his fingers.

‘There is no resistance,’ he added. ‘I believe we could pass through it.’

‘I can get us down there,’ said Frith, stepping forward. He pushed back his sleeves so that his silk bandages were revealed. ‘With the word for Hold I can lower each of you through the portal. It will not take much effort.’

Sebastian grimaced. ‘And back up?’

‘There is a tower close to this entrance, look.’ Frith pointed to a delicate spire reaching up towards them. ‘If we can climb that, then I should be able to lift us up, too. I am reasonably confident of this.’

‘Reasonably confident?’ Prince Dallen looked horrified. ‘Your confidence, my friend, is all that stands between us and a slow, unpleasant death.’