The Key to Creation (7 page)

Clad in formal olbas, sashes, and robes of state, the two stood in the main square outside the Olabar palace. On the worn flagstones, workers had set up a huge pyramid of kindling and logs. A scarlet banner with the Unfurling Fern fluttered like a battle flag from the top. Without a body, the funeral pyre was only symbolic, but the people of Uraba would understand the message.

Omra raised his voice and shouted to the crowd, “My brother has been murdered by the followers of Aiden.” A reverent hush fell over the people. “Tukar’s work at the Gremurr mines provided thousands of swords and shields for our war against the enemy, but the Tierrans killed him. They sent us his head, but refused to give us his body for these purging fires, and so our memories must be enough.”

Omra carried a scimitar from the Gremurr mines—not an ornate one, just a soldier’s blade, but it was appropriate. He placed the sword on the pile of dry wood and stepped back. “Let these flames shine so brightly that Ondun Himself knows our anger. I ask my faithful subjects not to forget Tukar, or the slain priestesses at Fashia’s Fountain, or the thousand heads of innocent prisoners strewn along the Ishalem wall. The Aidenists want to weaken the heart of our beliefs, but we will not let them. We must hold Ishalem and show all the world our true faith.”

He gave a small signal, and two guards cast lit torches onto the pyre. The flames caught in the kindling and the fire grew. Omra let the orange glow fill his vision, but Imir averted his eyes. His father spoke quietly. “Do not be so obsessed with Ishalem that you forget to rule the rest of Uraba. Olabar is your capital, not Ishalem.”

“I have two capitals, Father. I must attend to them both.”

“There is more to Uraba than just those two cities. You have five soldanates. When was the last time you traveled to Missinia to see your mother? Or visited the people of Abilan, or far Kiesh? When did you last go to Lahjar?”

Omra’s nostrils flared as he heard his father’s criticism. “But Ishalem is the heart of it all—our history, our heritage, our beliefs. If we lose Ishalem after so many years of struggle, then we lose everything.” The pyre blazed higher and brighter.

The former soldan-shah simply shook his head. “We had Ishalem before, Omra, and even then we didn’t have everything.”

Ishalem

Despite a complete victory, the visiting Nunghals were appalled by their first experience with naval warfare. Memories of the horrors they had inflicted on the Tierran ships—the explosions, the blood and flames, the screams of the dying—shamed and sickened even the bravest Nunghals.

Asaddan was not surprised when all but seven of the hundred shipkhans decided to sail away in a large flotilla and head back to familiar coastlines. They would leave Ishalem behind. His friend Shipkhan Ruad and Kel Unwar joined him at the docks in the western harbor to say goodbye.

Unwar had built the impregnable wall above Ishalem, and was nearly finished excavating the canal across the isthmus, but losing these allies seemed to be a challenge he didn’t know how to face. From his distraught expression, the city’s provisional governor could not understand the Nunghal reluctance to stay and fight. “Your comrades know how much devastation the Aidenists meant to inflict on us. Do they not see we were right to use any means to crush them?”

Asaddan looked out at the ships in the harbor and tried to explain. “They don’t understand war at all. Our clans have rivalries, but nothing that justifies outright slaughter. For the most part, we want to explore the world and make a profit.” He shrugged by way of apology. “After that sea battle, the shipkhans and their crews just want to go home.”

Since he couldn’t speak the Uraban language, Shipkhan Ruad did not understand the conversation between the other two men. Impatient, he prepared to climb into the small boat that would ferry him from the docks out to his gray-sailed ship. He and Asaddan slapped each other on the back. “Are you certain you won’t come with us, cousin?”

Asaddan shook his head. “The offer is tempting, but not yet. There are still parts of Uraba that I want to see. Khan Jikaris can rule well enough without me.”

“You’re just afraid of getting seasick again,” Ruad said with teasing disappointment.

“I’ll admit the voyage aboard your ships isn’t a gentle one, but sailing with you was more comfortable than walking across the Great Desert. The new sea trade route will benefit all of our clans, but next time I think I’ll go home aboard a sand coracle.”

Surprisingly, tears sparkled in Ruad’s eyes, and he turned his thin face away. “Thanks to you, Asaddan, I am no longer viewed as a joke among my people.” He adjusted his sharkskin vest, brushed a hand across his eyes. “Long ago I made mistakes that cost me my ship and my crew, but I’ve redeemed myself. The khans will remember my name with honor now—and yours.”

“Oh, they always would have remembered mine.” Asaddan smiled, then noticed Kel Unwar fidgeting, not understanding a word they said. He lowered his voice and continued, “I wish you would stay, cousin. As soon as the new canal is open, you can sail through to the Middlesea! Think of all that coastline to explore.”

Ruad shook his head. “It is tempting, but I’m looking forward to the next clan gathering.…” He broke into a grin. “Just imagine how many women will throw themselves on me, now that I am a famed explorer.”

Asaddan whistled through the gap in his teeth. “Yes, I suppose they might even charge you less for their affections.” Ruad winced and burst into laughter.

After a formal farewell to Unwar, with Asaddan serving as translator, the shipkhan climbed into the boat and rowed out to the clustered ships. Before long, the Nunghal vessels set their accordioned gray sails, weighed anchor, and caught the afternoon breezes to sail out into the deep Oceansea. From the dock, Asaddan and Unwar heard a loud succession of booms as the departing ships fired their cannons into the air in farewell.

At the very least, Asaddan was sure that Ruad’s successful voyage had reawakened the spark of curiosity among the Nunghals. From now on, the clans would no longer be content to sail the familiar southern coastlines, but would strike out and expand their knowledge of the world.

When he did return home, Asaddan intended to speak to Khan Jikaris. The nomadic Nunghal-Ari wandered across the great plains, caring little where they were, so long as they had water and game. On the flat grasslands, the terrain was monotonous, but Asaddan suspected that ambitious riders might find wonders if they ventured beyond their familiar territories. Perhaps next season, when the winds changed, he would fly back to see his clans.…

As the Nunghal vessels sailed away, Kel Unwar was clearly troubled. “Losing all those warships is a great blow. I was able to buy four large cannons from your cousins—only
four
—but the other shipkhans would not part with them.”

“They need them to defend against sea serpents on the long voyage.”

Unwar blew out a slow breath. “Maybe so, but without the rest of the Nunghal cannons, Ishalem will be hard-pressed to defend itself. The Aidenists are sure to come again.”

“Their war fleet was destroyed—they will think twice before they attack. You have some time.”

“Time for what?”

The answer seemed obvious to Asaddan. “Time to install those four cannon in emplacements at the opening to the harbor.” By now, most of the gray-sailed Nunghal ships had disappeared into the distance. “And time to complete your canal.”

The
Dyscovera

Aiden’s Compass had guided the
Dyscovera
to this island. The ship eased close to the unknown shore where the hills were dark with evergreen groves and golden with dry grasses—but Criston could see that this was not Terravitae.

By now, however, they were sorely in need of fresh supplies. After dropping anchor, Criston dispatched the ship’s boats to refill their casks with water and take on fruits, vegetables, and fresh game.

He had not yet delivered his verdict against Hannes and his fellow conspirators. When he instructed three of the accused mutineers to go ashore with the supply party, the men looked suspicious of what he might have in mind. Criston snapped, “There’s hard work to be done and heavy barrels to fill and haul—or would you rather have the lash instead?” The mutineers decided they were eager to help. “Prester, you will accompany us as well.”

Hannes had the look of a martyr about him and displayed no remorse whatsoever. “As you wish, Captain. Aiden’s Compass directed us here. There must be a reason for it.”

As Criston considered the island’s hills and pine trees, he called to the Saedran chartsman, “Sen Aldo, I’m sure you’d like to look around?”

Aldo had been staring at the coastline, filing away in his mind the details of the land. “Yes, Captain. Everything I see is vital to my maps.”

Javian joined him at the ship’s rail, bright-eyed and eager. “May I go with the shore party, sir?”

Criston glanced at him with a paternal smile. The cabin boy had seemed so young when they set off from Calay, but during the long voyage he’d matured into a solid and reliable young man. Criston could easily see that Javian’s affection for Mia was progressing beyond boyish infatuation. “Yes, you and Mia will come with me in the first party.”

The supply party used both of the ship’s boats, and as they rowed toward the shore, Prester Hannes sat in the bow, intent on the uncharted island. When they were close, men from each boat, including Silam Henner and one other mutineer, slipped over the side and sloshed up onto the beach, pulling the boats along. Once ashore, Sen Aldo looked closely at the native plants and studied fruits that hung from scrubby trees. Javian and Mia bounded off along the coastline, heading into the hills to explore what the island might offer.

The three cowed mutineers shouldered empty barrels and trudged off, following the sailors Criston had designated to watch them. The accused men were on their best behavior, eager to prove themselves to their captain, but Criston felt a knot in his chest, as the decision—the only decision—brewed in his mind. Silam Henner seemed convinced they were all going to be executed on shore.

Throughout the day, the men filled barrel after barrel with stream water and ferried loads back to the
Dyscovera
. Additional parties came ashore to help with the work, including the rest of the accused mutineers, who were eager to contribute their labor. Scavenging parties gathered sacks of exotic vegetables and fruits, and the cook was particularly happy when he found a patch of wild onions. The crew used hunting bows to bring down six dwarf antelope in the hills, and they all had a feast of roasted meat on the beach, after which they dug a smoking pit and lit a greenwood fire to preserve the rest of the meat.

They found no sign of human habitation, however—no ruins or any other indication that Aiden had ever set foot here on his journey. By late afternoon, when the
Dyscovera
’s hold was reprovisioned and most of the men returned to the ship, only a small group remained ashore. By design, Criston had made sure that Prester Hannes and the accused mutineers were among them, as well as some of his strongest sailors.

Having worked so hard on the island, the mutinous crewmen looked hopeful that they might be forgiven. Hannes merely raised his chin, as if he hoped that the captain would finally accept the rightness of what the prester had done.

But Criston’s voice was hard and heartless as he announced his decision. He had rehearsed his words many times. “You all stand convicted of mutiny, and the law of the sea is clear. Had we continued to sail, I would have had no choice but to cast you overboard.” The men groaned with fear; Hannes said nothing. “However, this island gives me an alternative. Maybe that’s why Aiden’s Compass directed us to this place.” He looked at them all with steely eyes. “I will maroon you here. Call it mercy, if you like.”

Hannes looked incensed. “We are nearly to Terravitae, Captain! What would Holy Joron say?”

“I hope I can ask him myself—and soon. In the meantime, you men can build shelters for yourselves, hunt food, remain alive—and that’s a chance we did not offer Enoch Dey. You have an opportunity that he did not.”

Now the prester was shaken. “You must not deny me the chance to see Joron!” His skin turned red, except for the pale patches of his burn scars.

The mutineers pleaded. “Please reconsider, Captain! We will be perfectly loyal.”

Silam Henner fell to his knees in the sand. “Don’t maroon us here!”

“My decision is made.”

Turning his back on them, Criston saw Javian running down the hillside path, with Mia fast on his heels, yelling, “Captain, captain—don’t leave yet!” They hurried up to the others, breathless, their excitement shattering the tense mood.

“It’s a
monster
,” Javian said, more astonished than terrified. “We found a monster!”

Calay, Sapier’s Lighthouse

At the mouth of Calay harbor, the bright flames of Sapier’s Lighthouse guided ships in the dark of night and symbolized the light of Aidenism, which guided the hearts of men. Now, in daylight, Queen Anjine met with her closest advisers in the open chamber atop the lighthouse; after Jenirod’s news about Gremurr, they had to plan the next step in the war.

Anjine stood before the open windows, felt the chill breezes whipping in from the sea; far below, waves foamed against the rocks. Her heart remained hard since the murder of Tomas, and she would not allow her own counselors to forget all that was at stake. She had chosen this place for the discussion instead of the castle’s war council chamber because she wanted them to look out at the city and the Oceansea and be reminded of the true scope of this conflict.

She turned back to the group of men who sat around a rustic plank table. “We have captured the mines at Gremurr, gentlemen, and it’s time to launch our death blow while the Curlies are reeling. I’ve already studied our best approach, and I’d like your input on my plan.”