The Key to Creation (60 page)

“The battle isn’t over yet,” Imir said, anxious to help. “Let’s make them doubt their victory today.” He pointed to the massed Tierran army at the base of the hill. “There we can cause the most damage. We’ll knock the ground from under their feet and send their army reeling.”

The bowmen in the sand coracles fired arrows down into the Tierran fighters. Shaft after shaft pelted from the sky, and the enemy soldiers could not protect themselves. Even from such a height, Imir could hear their shouts of surprise and cries of pain.

While the archers continued, Imir lit one of the gourds filled with firepowder, like those he had previously used to bombard the camps of desert bandits. Unexpected explosions erupted among the invaders, sending them scurrying in all directions like panicked beetles running out from under an overturned log. Urabans began hurling explosive gourds from all fifteen coracles.

“If this doesn’t turn the tide of the battle, nothing will,” he said. “We’ll scatter the Aidenist army.” He lit another explosive gourd and tossed it out of the basket.

Terravitae

For the next day, the ships’ boats ferried back and forth with load after load of men who fell upon the beach, dug their fingers into the sand, and whooped. They splashed out into the calm waters of the lagoon. At one point, Uraban sailors got into a furious splashing contest with the Tierran crewmen, a reflection of their old rivalries, but this time without rancor.

From the shore, King Sonhir sent out a call, and many mer-Saedrans came out of the water to stand dripping on the beach, where they regarded the majestic old man with expressions of awe. The mer-Saedrans, along with Aldo and Sherufa, told Ondun their excited tales. Ondun was enthralled to learn how the Saedran continent had sunk beneath the waves and how the people had used their own magic to survive both on land and in the sea.

“Ah, my children, you have done so many interesting things!” He looked meaningfully at Aldo and Sherufa. “I understand you have labored hard to compile your Mappa Mundi? There are many lands and peoples in this world, civilizations that have flourished on their own, other races besides mine—and yours.”

“But you have returned, my Lord,” Aldo said. “That is why we worked so hard to draw the Map of All Things.”

Ondun chuckled. “Your atlas must be wonderful, but I promise you, the world holds lands that you have not even dreamed of. Always horizons to explore, always a new place to see, always something unexpected to discover. That is the true gift of the world.”

Ystya waded up to her waist in the calm lagoon, accompanied by Saan. “Everything about this place renews me,” she said. “This is where I belong, where my family lived, where my people made their homes.”

Saan asked, splashing in the warm water, “What do you expect to find here?”

“Not even my father knows, but if any of our people remain, we’ll find them.” She lay back and drifted in the sun-dappled water. “Our race was fallow for a long time, but when my mother became pregnant with me, it was a sign of hope, that I would be the start of a new generation.” She lifted her head from the water, her pale hair dripping, and reached out to touch Saan’s cheek with her wet fingertips.

Three sinuous forms curled through the lagoon toward them. Saan jumped, but Ystya just laughed. The eel-like shapes swam around them, brushing slick, scaly hides against the backs of Saan’s legs, and then the small sea serpents rose in front of them. Their long necks were topped with sharp arrowhead faces and large jaws, and they blasted mist from their blowholes.

Ystya’s laughter tinkled like wind chimes. “These are just young ones. They’ve come to see me.”

The sea serpents glided back and forth, and Saan gradually relaxed as he accepted that the creatures were in awe of Ystya and would not harm them. After regarding her with their slitted reptilian eyes, the infant serpents ducked under the water and streaked away out into the ocean, splashing with the tips of their barbed tails.

The sea serpents flashed past two more rowboats that were entering the lagoon. Loaded with crewmen coming ashore, the boats carried few supplies, but Terravitae provided everything they could ask for.

In the rocks at the waterline, the sailors found a wealth of clams, crabs, and oysters that they roasted in large bonfires on the beach. In the fast-running streams, they caught freshwater fish, which tasted far different from the ocean fare they had been eating on their long voyage. Hunters easily found grouse and wild turkeys, as well as fresh eggs in the nests.

Wherever Ystya walked on the new landscape, her very presence as the Key to Creation sparked a fire of verdancy. Thick clusters of berries appeared on vines and bushes. Groves of almond, apple, and pear trees bowed down their lower branches, weighted with a harvest of fruit.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to find ourselves marooned here,” Saan said that evening.

But Criston could not stop thinking about Adrea, on the other side of the world, still alive, despite the changes in her life. He said, “I look forward to going home, though I’m not eager for the voyage to get there.”

Eager to explore the continent, Ondun led a group up the coast, promising to show Ystya and the visitors where he and his people had lived. “They’ll be no more than abandoned ruins now, but it was our home, where Iyomelka and I were once happy, where my sons grew strong…”

Both captains accompanied them, along with King Sonhir, both Saedran chartsmen, Kjelnar, and a few handpicked members of each crew, including Grigovar, Yal Dolicar, Javian, and Mia. Though they walked for miles, Criston did not feel weary. Terravitae and its inherent magic seemed to energize his muscles and feet. He turned to look back where they had passed, and saw meadow flowers blooming and grasses growing greener, leaves bursting out from shrubs. Ystya left her mark everywhere.

To the north, Ystya and Ondun took them to the edge of a cliff above rough surf from which they gazed down at the wreck of the Arkship cast up onto the rocks. The skeleton of its hull, piles of split planks, and one toppled mast were all that remained, picked at and pried into pieces by the weather and the waves.

“It appears that Aiden and Urec had barely enough magic left to make it this far,” Ondun said. “Let’s hope our city is in far better condition.”

“If not, we can rebuild it,” Ystya suggested.

“Now that you’re here with me in Terravitae, daughter, our magic can do just that.”

The old man guided them inland, and soon they came upon the ruins of mammoth buildings, villas made out of giant stone blocks, now overgrown with moss and vines. Collapsed marble columns lay like the vertebrae of sea serpents on the ground. In the middle of the largest building, a temple or meeting hall, an immense stone table was canted, one of its legs broken. Saan stared at the arches, the open ceilings, the obelisks and weathered statues. In his imagination, he sketched in the details, painting an incredibly ancient, spectacular city—a home that only gods could have built.

Ondun stepped into the rubble at the perimeter of the assembly hall. “I see we have some fixing up to do.” He propped his hands on his hips. His long silvery-gray hair began to twitch and dance in an unseen wind.

“Let me help,” Ystya said.

With a rumble and clatter of moving stones, the fallen central structure reassembled itself, as if a huge invisible child were building with toy blocks. The tangled overgrowth of vines acted like pulleys and ropes to lift pillars upright, stacking stones, raising the huge marble table.

Ondun stretched out a hand to indicate the table and the long marble benches that surrounded it. “Let us welcome our new friends with a feast, daughter.”

Before long, a greater bounty was spread out before them than they had seen in a long time. Ondun inspected a cluster of fat purple grapes, plucked one, and addressed his guests. “You have all earned a time of relaxation. Who could ask for a better reward, after your arduous journey?” He looked through the pillars of the stone building. “But I am anxious to continue my search of this land, in hopes of finding others.”

Looking around himself in wonder, Criston said, “We came to Terravitae expecting to find Holy Joron, my Lord. We found Aiden and Urec entombed in the cave. Will we see Joron here?”

“Alas, no, my third son is long gone from this place. But I hope we will find some descendants of Aiden’s and Urec’s crew.”

Saan looked awkwardly at his father, reluctant to broach the subject that rested like a shadow in the back of his mind. “We came to do more than just explore, my Lord. Our ships set off in search of allies, for the people of Tierra and Uraba are in a desperate war. The
Al-Orizin
was sent to find the Key to Creation and to reach Terravitae in hopes of forming a partnership with Holy Joron against the Tierrans.”

Yal Dolicar laughed out loud. “Captain, you would ask
Ondun
to take sides in our war? Now that is funny!”

Criston straightened. “We were both sent on missions to ask for help, my Lord. Tierra has also endured much pain and damage at the hands of Urec’s followers. My king asked me to beg Terravitae to fight on our side.”

Saan tried again. “And the soldan-shah of Uraba asks your help to protect us against Tierran attacks.”

Aldo frowned. “We already saw the prester and the sikara at each other’s throats. Hasn’t there been enough destruction? We Saedrans bore the brunt of it from both sides.”

Javian said, “The divisions between Tierra and Uraba go far too deep to be resolved by any apology. Neither side will easily put their vengeance aside.”

“Neither side can forget,” Saan said. “Neither side can forgive.”

A cloud crossed Ondun’s face. “I sent two of my sons to find a fresh land where they could make a new future. I am certain they did not want a war between their descendants.”

“Our perspectives have changed,” Criston said, looking at his son. “But we still ask for your assistance, my Lord. Our crews have learned to work together, and we survived only because we cooperated. You can help Tierra and Uraba find peace.”

Saan grasped at the idea. “This war has gone on so long, I didn’t think there was any hope for a solution. But
Ondun
could impose peace on our lands.”

The golden ferns growing up from the stone pillars began to rustle and thrash, reflecting Ondun’s agitation. He rested his elbows on the stone table. “Aiden’s ship found Tierra, and Urec’s ship found Uraba.” He looked from one captain to the other. “I cannot take sides. Your people must solve their own conflicts.”

Ystya’s voice was soft and reasonable. “But, Father, you have the power to stop the bloodshed.”

Ondun’s sparkling white hair was like a mane about his paternal face. “I will not impose my will on one land at the expense of the other.”

“They revere you as a god, and the very core of their conflict is how they worship you.”

“But I am not—”

Ystya stood from the table. “You are
Ondun
. Shouldn’t you use that for the greater good? They will listen to you.”

The old man ran a fingertip along his upper lip as he considered. “I am not their ‘creator of all things,’ but you have renewed my strength.” His smile was like a sunrise. “Maybe I can stop the conflict without favoring either side, if I’m careful about it.” He flexed his fingers, opening and closing a fist. “Yes, that might be good exercise. It’s time for me—in fact, for all of us—to travel to your lands. I should go to Ishalem to see what all the fuss is about.” He picked up a round apple, bit into it, and closed his eyes as he savored the taste. “Terravitae can wait while I do this thing for my sons.”

Sen Aldo said, “But…we come from the other side of the world. Our ships took the better part of a year to get here.”

Ondun gave a dismissive wave. “Distance is of no great consequence. I am stronger now than I have been for centuries.” The air crackled, and anything
did
seem possible.

Ystya looked at Saan and Criston. “Thank you, Father.”

“Very well. Captains, allow your crews another day to rest—I can arrange a banquet for them as well—and then we depart.” Ondun found another piece of fruit. “I want to see the lands that my sons discovered. They certainly left their mark on your civilizations.”

Criston was perplexed. “My Lord, both Tierra and Uraba have legends of a brother who stayed behind in our lands—but if Aiden and Urec sailed home to Terravitae, who is the Traveler?”

Ondun was surprised by the question. “Why, the Traveler is
Joron
, of course. When his brothers didn’t return with the Key to Creation, he set off by himself. That is why he is no longer in Terravitae.”

Ishalem

The holy city was a scene of chaos. Hordes of Tierran soldiers ran through the streets, recklessly setting fire to homes. The surging tide of the invading army pressed forward, neighborhood after neighborhood. Aidenist slaves escaped from their work camps, turned on their masters, and joined the frenzied battles.

Shopkeepers and family heads tried to defend their property; some used makeshift weapons, ready to die at the doorways, while others huddled with their wives and children in any shelter they could find. Brave or desperate, people tried to extinguish the spreading fires.

An old man walked through the city, cloaked and calm. His step was not hurried. A brown hood covered his face. None of the fighters paid the slightest attention to him. Swordsmen clashed nearby, shield against shield, hacking and screaming and spilling blood while the old man walked past. No one lashed out at him, no one barred his way. With a determined step, he toiled up the steep Pilgrim’s Path to the top of Arkship Hill.

As he moved through the Tierran soldiers that marched up to the summit, a vortex of quiet surrounded him. Soldiers stopped fighting. They paused with swords upheld, as if they could not remember why they were there. The combatants blinked at one another, perplexed.

In the air, the fifteen colorful sand coracles hung as if suspended by thin wires in the breeze. The fighters crowded in their baskets shot arrows and threw small explosives down onto the battlefield. But when the hooded man looked up at them, the archers ceased their barrage. No more firepowder bombs dropped.