Scimitar War (25 page)

“You think it’s coming here? Why would it do that?”

“I don’t know, sir, except to say that it was well north of its reported position when we encountered it, and was on the same course as we were until it finally fell out of sight behind us. And, sir...” Jundis downed the rest of his grog. “You don’t want to be here when it arrives.”

≈

“Father!” Tim burst into the small hut, breathless and flushed.

Emil opened his eyes—he had been dozing—and sat up gingerly. His back ached from the mat-covered ground, and he had to roll his head around to loosen the muscles in his neck. Holding up a hand to forestall his son, he peered at Camilla, but saw no change. Her eyes fluttered but remained closed, and he could see her pupils darting about beneath her eyelids. She was dreaming, had been dreaming constantly since the night they had rescued her. He had also dreamed since that terrible night, and prayed to the Gods of Light that her dreams were not as horrific as his own.

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wet it in a gourd of herb-laced water that the native healer had provided, and swabbed Camilla’s pale brow. He’d kept vigil over her since their return to Vulture Isle. Though he had managed to get her to take some water by pouring a little in her mouth and massaging her throat, as the native healer had taught him, she remained unresponsive to any other stimuli. He sighed in frustration and turned to Tim.

“What is it?”

“We’ve got to get aboard the ship,” Tim said. He looked upset. “I didn’t want to disturb you before now, but Captain Donnely’s given the order.”

“Why the rush?” Emil asked as he rose.

“I don’t know, but Huffington’s trying to find out.” Tim held aside the woven mat that served as a door, and they stepped into the early evening air.

It was obvious that something serious was happening. Imperial sailors and marines hurried toward the beach with armfuls of weapons and foodstuffs. Many of the natives looked on in amusement, while others seemed concerned and a few even argued. Huffington, his head still wrapped in a thick bandage, finished speaking with a naval officer, then approached Emil and Tim.

Emil gestured at the rushing soldiers. “What’s going on?”

“Milord, the
Iron Drake’s
been lost. It was…” Huffington looked conflicted, as if he didn’t believe his own words, “destroyed by Akrotia.”

“Destroyed by
Akrotia
?” Emil rubbed his eyes, worried that fatigue was affecting him. “What do you mean, destroyed?”

“Burned,” Huffington answered, “by the pyromage. Remember, milord, the seamage said that the city had been reanimated with fire magic. Apparently, it’s heading in this direction. Donnely’s not taking any chances. He sent the senior surviving officer from
Iron Drake
to Plume Isle on
Flothrindel
with Tawah and Keyloo to inform the admiral.
Cape Storm
will leave as soon as Donnely can recall the patrols sent out to the northeast highlands.”

“What do the natives think about this?” Emil wondered.

“Some of them don’t believe it, but others are frightened and want to go with Donnely. The officer I spoke with says that they’ve
some
room…”

“…but not enough for everyone,” finished Emil. “Well, this
is
an island. I mean, it can’t burn the whole thing. How long do they estimate before it gets here?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Huffington said. “The natives have sent lookouts up to the southern peak, so we should have some warning.”

“If it’s burning like Cynthia said, it should be visible from a great distance,” Emil suggested.

Huffington was already shaking his head. “We should get Lady Camilla aboard
Cape Storm
as soon as possible in case the situation progresses more quickly than is expected. If we’re taken unaware, there could be problems.”

“Well…there’s no rush, Huffington. We can secure a berth and it’s better for Camilla to rest here than in a stuffy ship’s cabin.” Emil looked about and clenched his teeth. “As if we don’t have enough to worry about without this…this
thing
approaching.”

“It’s not a
thing
!” snapped Tim. Emil and Huffington were both taken aback. Tim had been quiet throughout the conversation, but now he stood with clenched fists, trembling. “Akrotia’s not a thing,” he repeated. “It’s Edan, and he was my friend. And it might be—” His words caught and he was silent for a moment before continuing, his voice soft and pained. “It might be Sam, too.”

Emil blanched.
Oh, dear Gods of Light. Samantha
… He remembered now Tim’s silent brooding when he’d related Cynthia’s tale of their encounter on Akrotia. With all of his concentration focused upon Camilla, he’d forgotten that Samantha might still possibly be alive, trapped with Edan. Though she had rejected him, he could not reject her—she was his daughter. But what could he do?

“You’re right, Tim. I hadn’t thought of that. I just don’t know what we can do to save her. Right now Camilla’s safety has to be our priority. Stay here with her, Tim. Huffington, speak to Donnely and secure space for us aboard
Cape Storm
. I’m going to talk to Whuafa and see what he thinks of the situation.”

“Yes, sir,” Tim said.

“Don’t worry, milord,” Huffington said. “We’ll get her out of here.” He turned and hurried toward the beach.

Norris ducked into the hut to check on Camilla and strap on his sword. It was a pitiful weapon against a vast, fiery, floating city, but it was comforting to have by his side in the event of a more imminent threat.

Chapter 17

Flight

“Easy, now! Easy there, lads,” Huffington cautioned the four burly sailors who carried Lady Camilla’s litter. The pearl-gray light filtering through the jungle canopy provided just enough illumination for them to walk without torchlight. As they emerged from the trees, he glanced up to where
Cape Storm
rode at anchor. Gods willing, they would be aboard very soon. Huffington looked south. Clouds towered over the ocean, looking for all the world like distant mountains, but one of the peaks wasn’t a cloud, and it wasn’t so distant. “Holy Gods of Light…”

Akrotia had been sighted during the night, its bulk visible under the sparse light of the new moon, earlier than Jundis predicted. Now it loomed only a few miles away, and with his first view of the vast city, Huffington was taken aback.

A lieutenant’s voice carried on the breeze as, all along the shore, marines piled into the launches, the last of the highland patrols being transported to
Cape Storm
. Captain Donnely had intended to board them at first light and leave somewhat later, but the arrival of Akrotia had hastened his schedule. In hindsight, Huffington wished they had boarded the ship the previous evening. Some of the villagers stood on the beach watching the imperials, but most were still abed.

Looking back at the trail into the jungle, Huffington wished Norris and Tim would hurry. The count had entrusted Camilla to Huffington’s care while he bid Whuafa goodbye. That had been twenty minutes ago. He sighed in relief as they loped down the beach.

“Is all in readiness?” the count asked as he stooped over Camilla and brushed a lock of hair back from her pale brow.

“Yes, milord,” Huffington replied. “Your gear is packed in the bow. We can board and leave immediately.”

“Do you think he’ll follow us?” Tim asked as he gazed south. Huffington understood; he meant Edan...Akrotia.

“Let’s hope not,” the secretary muttered. He had considered Edan’s internment within Akrotia as an end to the duty assigned to him by the emperor. But Akrotia had destroyed an imperial ship. The threat was renewed. He glanced at the satchel at his side, wondering what in there could possibly kill a thing like this.

Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet shook, and Huffington stumbled against the launch. Norris dropped to his knees and leaned over Camilla as if to protect her, and shouts rang out up and down the beach.

“An earthquake?” asked a wide-eyed Tim.

Huffington looked around. The sailors and marines looked at the ground in worry, but the natives looked up toward the island’s twin mountain peaks. A second, stronger, tremor shook the ground, and the natives bolted toward the trail into the jungle. From the village, cries could be heard. A cold cloak of dread settled over Huffington; he looked up.

Smoke spewed from island’s northern peak.

“In the boat, now!” he yelled, grabbing the count’s arm. Norris looked angry and opened his mouth to speak, but Tim called out first.

“It’s going to erupt!”

“Milord,” Huffington said through clenched teeth, “sit in the bottom of the boat, and I’ll hand Camilla to you.” His employer looked up at the mountain open-mouthed, then nodded and complied. With the help of the sailors, Huffington got Camilla settled with her head in the count’s lap, then leapt in himself. Tim helped the sailors shove the craft into the water, then scrambled aboard.

“The villagers!” gasped Count Norris. Huffington looked up to see dozens of the natives running down the shore toward the launches. Some carried babies, while others clutched bundles and baskets. They waved at the boats, calling out incomprehensible appeals.

“Father!” Tim interpreted. “The villagers don’t have enough boats for everyone. They’ll have to leave people behind!”

“Pull!” called the lieutenant in the next boat.

“Halt!” barked the count. He shifted Camilla to Tim’s care, then stood unsteadily and pointed back toward shore. “We cannot and
will
not leave these people to die!”

“Milord Count,” the lieutenant argued, “we cannot take them all. They’ll sink the boats.”

“We’ll take as many as we can safely fit. On my authority, Lieutenant, take us back to the beach. Any boat that leaves not completely full will answer to me!”

Huffington wasn’t surprised to see the boats still ashore hustling folk aboard, and those already bobbing in the surf halting their progress while natives splashed out to them. Count Norris in full diplomatic mode was a considerable force. They took people into their own boat, until the coxswain insisted that any more would be dangerous. Tremors continued to rock the island, sending ripples across the water. It took only a couple of minutes to fill all of the boats, then the sailors pulled strongly out to
Cape Storm
. Soon, both natives and imperials were clambering up the boarding ladders.

“What in the Nine Hells are these people doing here?” demanded Captain Donnely. The lieutenant in charge stepped forward, his face pale and grim, certain of his fate under the wrath of his superior officer, but Count Norris pushed forward and presented himself to the captain.

“Captain, I authorized this impromptu evacuation. As imperial representatives, we have a moral obligation to render assistance to these citizens. If you have not noticed, the island’s volcano is preparing to erupt.”

“Volcano?” Donnely looked at the count as if he were insane. “What volcano?”

Norris pointed to the smoldering peak. “
That
volcano, Captain.”

The captain turned and stared. “Oh, bloody
bugger
!”

The count blinked. “Captain,
please
!”

“In case
you
haven’t noticed, Count Norris, Akrotia is bearing down on us. I’ve been a
little
distracted!” Donnely frowned, the muscles in his jaw writhing like snakes. “Oh, just get everyone aboard!” He whirled away, shouting orders to set sail and haul anchor.

The count turned to Huffington and Tim, who had claimed Lady Camilla. Norris took her in his arms and nodded at his secretary. “Well, that went better than I expected,” he said.

“Just this way, milord,” Huffington said, suppressing a wry smile as he motioned them toward their cabin.

≈

“Master Whuafa! We gotta go!”

Whuafa looked up at his worried apprentice and smiled. He sat on the soft, warm sand, the tremors of the erupting mountain vibrating up his backside, the warm blue water of the lagoon before him, the cool green of the jungle at his back. This was his home. He had been born here, raised a family here, experienced much joy and pain here. How could he ever leave?

“I think,” he began, clearing his throat and leaning back against a driftwood log. “I think I will stay.”

“But Master! The mountain is exploding!” As if to confirm this, the ground shook violently. The tall palms swayed, and coconuts thudded to the ground.

“Yes, I believe you are right.” Whuafa gestured toward the water’s edge. The last of the dugouts were being hurriedly prepared for departure, but there weren’t enough boats to take everyone. They would have a rough paddle to windward to clear the outer reef, then north through the long ocean swells to the next island up the chain. If they were lucky, they would make it before dark. If not…well, his people were experienced mariners, and they knew the reefs like they knew their own village. That was good, because they might have to start a new village on a new island. “You had better hurry. They need someone along who knows the tales of our tribe, and I am staying.”

His apprentice looked up. The mountains loomed above their village, but a towering pall of ash and smoke filled the sky behind the northern peak, blown west by the winds. He bit his lip, looked back to Whuafa and said, “Then I will stay too, Master.”

“No.” Whuafa shook his head and gestured toward the boats. The last canoe was being pushed into the lagoon. “You are young, my grandson, and you have all the stories in your mind now. You must go, and you must make sons and daughters, who will make you grandsons and granddaughters. Then you will pick one of them, as I did, to be your apprentice. Now go, or they will leave you here.”

The old man’s heart softened as he saw the tears well in his grandson’s dark eyes. The boy had not known that he was the lorekeeper’s grandson. It was their way, for the lorekeeper’s apprentice had to work hard to learn the old stories for his own sake, not merely to please his grandsire. The young man smiled hesitantly, then turned away before the tears spilled down his cheeks, and ran to the last outrigger. Only once did he look back as the dozen strong paddlers propelled the craft out of the cove and into the choppy sea. He raised his hand in farewell, and Whuafa did the same.

As the canoes dwindled in the distance, the old lorekeeper sighed and closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth of the sun, the kiss of the trade winds, and the scents of the jungle. This was his home; he would live nowhere else. He rested easily as the tremors continued, and the plume of ash and smoke climbed higher into the sky behind him.