The Key to Creation (63 page)

Tierran and Uraban sailors crowded on deck, overwhelmed by the cascade of miracles they had witnessed. The ghost ships flanked them, but the spectral vessels kept their distance. The frolicking mer-Saedrans tumbled along in the wake, or sometimes transformed themselves into sleek dolphins to ride the bow waves.

The islands of a previously unknown archipelago came and went with a speed greater than the fastest galloping horse. The skies grew cloudy, and the Arkship dashed into a downpour that drenched them, yet passed as quickly as a splash in a puddle.

Time passed in a blur, and their speed was so great that the night itself lasted only a few hours before the sun rose ahead of them again.

Ystya spent much of her time on deck with him, happy and satisfied. “I don’t regret anything, Saan. You did promise you would show me the world—and here it is, all of it.”

“I didn’t have any idea what I was offering!” Saan vacillated between affection for her and nervousness about who and what she was. He had watched her unleash amazing magic, and he had seen the continent of Terravitae awaken from her very presence. “You were such an innocent girl on your mother’s island, helpless, needing to be rescued. I thought I was going to take you away and protect you.”

“And love me?” She smiled.

“Yes, and love you. But this isn’t like a starstruck romance with a pretty handmaiden. You’re the Key to Creation!”

“Yes, but I was always that.” She straightened, brushed loose hair out of her face. “Are you afraid to love me now?”

Saan forced a laugh. “Suitors often worry about incurring the displeasure of a girl’s father, but in your case that’s an altogether different concern. You’re
Ondun’s
daughter! I hope I never make Him angry at me.”

Saan wasn’t entirely joking. She chuckled at the idea nevertheless. “So, you’re my suitor? Truly?” She flushed, and so did he. She continued in a softer voice, “There’s no need for us to rush. It’s true that I have a great many new obligations, considering who I am. I never knew how much I could do—and my father needs me. Our magic is stronger together. Once we see your people at Ishalem, he and I will return to Terravitae to search for other survivors of our people.”

Spray moistened Saan’s face, and he gazed ahead with a wistful smile. Ending this voyage and returning home raised as many uncertainties for him as did the discoveries they had made. Though he longed to stay with Ystya, he also felt a strong pull of Uraba. “I can’t wait to get back home to see my mother, my brothers and sisters, and Soldan-Shah Omra.”

And now he also had his real father to consider.…

Criston met several times with Saan, anxious to learn more about his mother. Every detail seemed like finding a fleck of gold dust in a stream. “Sadly, you have a great many more stories about her than I do.”

“Not necessarily. I know nothing about her life as a young woman, or the village where she lived. She didn’t talk much of her past, although she did teach me Tierran.” In his son’s face, Criston saw hints of his young self—the sailor who had signed aboard the
Luminara
with Captain Shay. He also saw Adrea there.

Though the information was painful to him, Criston listened as Saan described how she had worked for years as a palace slave, how she had saved Omra from an assassination plot, and how she had agreed to marry him to protect her son. “It seems perfectly natural to me now, for I know how well Omra took care of her,” Saan said. “She has had a fine life, wealth, respect, but now I can see how hard it must have been for her.” His brow furrowed.

“It was a decision she made long ago,” Criston forced himself to say. “She can’t wish away the last twenty years.” Hearing more about Adrea’s choice now made him feel as if he were drowning, but he tried not to let Saan see his feelings. At least she was alive.…

Finally, the winds died down, the ropes creaked, and the masts seemed to let out a sigh of relief as the strain decreased. Even after pulling the Arkship across half the world, the harnessed seahorse-serpents did not seem exhausted.

Shading his eyes, Aldo could make out the low line of the isthmus ahead. He stood next to Yal Dolicar and Sen Sherufa. “We’re here already—we’re approaching Ishalem!” The distance they had covered in so short a time seemed impossible. “I’ve seen so much adventure that all I can think of is getting back to my own family.”

Yal Dolicar’s grin was infectious. “I feel as if I’m living a wild tale told in a tavern. They’ll laugh when I try to convince them what really happened! We’ve done things so fantastic that even a drunken sailor would never believe them.”

“And maybe young and naïve chartsmen wouldn’t be fooled either, as I was.” Even now, Aldo was embarrassed about how easily he had been duped.

Dolicar gave an embarrassed chuckle and quickly wandered to the other side of the deck.

“I doubt people will accuse us of spinning fantastic stories,” Sherufa said. “We have Ondun Himself with us.”

The joined crews gathered in the Arkship’s broad bow. Ondun raised his head so that the winds blew his gray hair and beard as he regarded the coastline ahead. “So, this is what my sons spotted after their long voyage from Terravitae. The land does look beautiful from here, but I suspect we’ll see far too much scarring and bloodshed up close. I’ll have to take care of that.”

“Is that what our races truly need, my Lord?” Captain Vora asked him, feeling unexpected doubts. “For Ondun Himself to arrive and solve all problems?”

The old man pressed his lips together and pondered for a long time. “Isn’t that what the people believe Ondun should do? They’ve placed me on a very high pedestal, but
imposing
peace and harmony on two continents is beyond any miracle I can perform. Perhaps their own beliefs are strong enough to make them do something positive…if I give them the incentive to do it themselves.”

By now the Tierrans and Urabans had mixed aboard the Arkship, since the very presence of Ondun facilitated communication. Criston looked at the sailors around him and said, “We’re proof that Aidenists and Urecari can work together without rancor, but I fear that once we get back to the battleground, the old wounds will reopen.”

Saan felt more optimistic. “Maybe, or maybe not. Without Sikara Fyiri and Prester Hannes to whip us into a frenzy, our crews get along well enough.”

The seahorse-serpents pulled toward the coast, and the mer-Saedrans swam alongside the Arkship as escorts. Nearby, the ghost fleet fanned out like a dark navy. Aboard the spectral
Luminara
, Captain Shay raised a blue-and-green Tierran flag high on his mainmast.

As they drew closer to Ishalem, the harbor was in the throes of a fiery battle. Stone emplacements at the harbor mouth held strange black cylinders that roared, spitting fire at Tierran ships that pushed into the port. Peering through his spyglass, Saan saw one of the four overheated tubes explode, spraying metal shards in all directions. Undaunted, the teams at the remaining three weapons kept firing. Saan recognized that they must be using Nunghal firepowder, but he had never seen such a weapon before.

Even far away, they could hear the faded and tinny sounds of the fray, the clash of metal and screams of men. Ships whose sails bore the Aidenist Fishhook clashed in a free-for-all with an equal number of Uraban warships. The vessels shouldered into one another, hulls grinding against hulls, while grappling hooks and ropes tangled them together. Sailors swarmed back and forth, flailing swords and clubs. At least seven ships were on fire, and flames ran up the rigging ropes as if they were candlewicks.

Ondun scratched his beard, deeply troubled. “I have always considered it best to let humans live their lives and make their decisions, for good or ill. The parent bird must make the fledglings leave the nest and fly on their own.” His expression darkened. “But sometimes they need paternal guidance. If we don’t put a stop to this, no one will heed the words I have to speak.” He loosed the golden harnesses that bound the five seahorse-serpents and shouted to the beasts, “Go and drive those ships apart—stop the fighting!”

Unleashed, the majestic creatures raced into the crowded harbor, rippling the water with the sawblades of their dorsal fins. They leaped and came crashing down, sending a gush of spray in all directions.

The ghost ships also sailed into the fray, nearly outnumbering the embattled navies. The fighters paused to cry out in alarm, sensing the shadow of awe and fear that Captain Shay brought with him as he guided the
Luminara
into the harbor. His vessels were like great sailing ships carved out of thunderclouds.

The silent, eerie fleet cruised expertly into the naval battle. The cannons outside the harbor fired several shots, but the roaring balls caused no damage to the ghost ships. At the head of the shadowy fleet, the
Luminara
shouldered up to the Tierran and Uraban flagships that had been locked in combat. “Cease your fighting!” Shay bellowed. “By the command of Ondun Himself!”

As if the ghost ships hadn’t terrified the fighting crewmen enough, the seahorse-serpents rose up between the opposing battleships. The exotic creatures hooted and hissed blasts of steam from their blowholes. The seahorse-serpents rammed Tierran and Uraban vessels alike, snapping the ropes and hooks that bound the ships together. The sailors yelled in terror. While spears and arrows bounced harmlessly off the thick golden scales, the monsters circled, lifting their plated heads high so they sluiced water onto the frightened crewmembers, immediately drenching anyone still engaged in hand-to-hand combat.

The thunderstruck seamen stared as the huge Arkship sailed past them on its way into port. The gigantic vessel towered above the highest mast of the navy flagships. The golden seahorse-serpents cleared a path through the water, like escorts.

When the great ship finally reached the long docks, despite the battle around them, the weary sailors from the
Dyscovera
and
Al-Orizin
cheered, realizing they were back home. Saan stood next to Criston. “I have never seen Ishalem before.”

“Neither have I, but I always wanted to.” One last cannonball shot into the air, but caused no damage. The ghost ships closed in on the emplacements. Criston shook his head. “This isn’t quite how I imagined I would get here, though.”

He had meant his comment to be serious, but Saan laughed. “Was
anything
about this voyage what you expected?”

Tears stung Criston’s eyes. He reached out to put an arm around his son, the child he had never expected to see. “No, and I’m glad it wasn’t.”

Even the largest dock was too low to accommodate the Arkship as it came to port, but Ondun created a ramp so He could emerge and step down to the wooden boards. Towering tall, looking like a genuine titan now and filled with power that He drew from Ishalem, Ondun turned to the people on deck, including Ystya. “The rest of you, stay behind for now. There is something I must do.” He cocked his head and smiled. “Ah, Joron is already here.”

He sniffed the air, seemed to smell the blood and smoke from the battles inside the city. Ondun walked off the pier and set foot in Ishalem at last.

A roar of supernatural thunder rumbled across the sky. Ondun looked up, His eyebrows twitched, and lightning bolts blasted down to strike the tallest buildings, the top of the Urecari church, the turrets that lined the long wall. As He walked forward, the ground beneath his feet trembled, then shook, then lurched from side to side. His robes flapped about in the strong winds that He began to summon.

And He was just getting started. It was going to be a good show.…

Part VI

Ishalem, Main Urecari Church

The stern, dominating Ondun quenched the violence, shut down the battles, and imposed peace.

From the safety of the new Arkship’s deck, both crews observed the spectacle of Ondun unleashing the full fury of His powers so as to impress and terrify the two warring sides. Bloody and exhausted, the Tierran and Uraban armies were like two squabbling children forcefully separated from a playground brawl by a stern teacher.

The fighting was over, but the conflict itself was not so easily resolved. The generations-long spiral of hatred went far beyond religious and philosophical differences.

After the ground stopped shaking and the thunderclouds finished pounding and crackling through the sky, Ystya asked Saan to accompany her into Ishalem. “This is your holy city. Show it to me.”

From the high deck, Saan looked at the buildings, the immense church of Urec, the docks, the markets and dwellings, even the imposing wall that crossed the isthmus. “I have never seen Ishalem myself.”

She took his hand. “Then we’ll discover it together.”

Disembarking from the Arkship, they walked through the streets and saw the battle damage. Some of the houses had been burned; bloodstains marked the whitewashed walls of buildings; market stalls had been ransacked, fountains toppled.

On a thoroughfare heading toward the center of the city, Saan was delighted to see Ystya’s power diffusing into the war-scarred streets: flower boxes began to swell with new pink and yellow blooms; the leaves of mangled shrubs burst into greenery again; drooping citrus trees straightened and produced clouds of white blossoms. The heady, sweet perfume followed them.