The Last Wizard of Eneri Clare (56 page)

Neritz stood on the bridge of his flagship clutching the spyglass to his breast, and staring nervously at the mist-shrouded rocks ahead. He was flanked by the ship’s navigator and another veteran seaman, one of whom played with a sextant, and the other with an awkward pile of rolled charts. “This is ridiculous!” he shouted, voice taut, “We should have been there an hour ago. An entire delta, an entire kingdom just doesn’t disappear. You must have made an error back a ways.”

The navigator was sullen, “No mistake, sir. I been doin’ this all my life, and I done the calculations eighteen times. Take a look up there at the sun, sir; even you would have to admit it cannot change its daily course.”

Neritz threw him a threatening look, “Well, then, your instruments must be flawed…”

“Sir, this is the third sextant we have tried, and the other ships are doin’ the same with no different results. I don’t know how this happened, but I know by every measure, we are right where we are supposed to be.”

Neritz scowled, “Well, what is this place then? It appears treacherous, and yet you say nothing like it appears on any of your maps or charts?”

The man with the charts was fumbling with uncooperative rolled parchments, “Sir, I have been poring over these charts for the last hour, and have found nothing on them about a place like this. We should’ve had a smooth run right up to the beaches and the seawall of Theriole. It’s huge. We should see it rising up on the horizon just in front of us. For the life of me, I can’t understand what this is.”

Neritz was beginning to panic, beads of sweat breaking out on his brow as he peered through the spyglass once more in all directions. He took his frustration out on the hapless men beside him. “You two are worse than useless. The day is getting away from us and we are clearly lost. Send word to the other ships: hard to starboard and follow. We must have missed the entrance to the harbor by some error, and I’m not about to take his lordship’s new fleet into that treacherous mess ahead. Go on, don’t stand about…you have your orders.”

Jorelial Rey busied herself flitting from post to post, checking on every detail of everyone’s well-being. The entire palace and inner courtyards were packed with men and beasts: nobles, servants, merchants, farmers, all together. All stood or sat, waiting quietly as they had been instructed, some carrying swords or pitchforks in the event of a breech. Boone’s soldiers lined all the perimeters and kept careful watch both for intruders and on the crowds within. Despite the uncertainty and endless waiting, for the most part everyone was well-behaved, and attentive to instructions. Soldiers also lined the beach, and stood on all the ramparts and parapets of the sea wall, poised for action, eyes on the enemy ships out in the harbor. The entire herd of unicorns was down on the beachhead, standing in a tight semi-circle, and organizing some action involving their horns on which the Lady Regent was not fully clear. Out of respect, she allowed them to carry out their portion of the plan undisturbed, and instructed anyone on the beach to give them all the room and assistance they needed. Dragons of every size and color perched in high places on parapets, turrets, and towers, watching from these elevated vantage points, and seeming to listen for some predetermined signal. A white dragon, poised on the highest tower, seemed to be the focus of their attention, while her gaze was held fast by the little drama unfolding in the shining waters before them. For that matter, every creature with even a partial view was fixed on the events transpiring just before the sea wall.

Three hours ago, lookouts had spotted thirteen warships approaching on the horizon. Closer and closer they had come, their dark banners unfurled in the light breeze, close enough for those with spyglasses to discern ship’s names on their sterns, and figures on their decks. At the palace, every nerve thrummed, every muscle tightened, adrenaline flowed, and hands closed on weapons with firm resolve. Then, without explanation, the entire black fleet had halted in its progress, and just sat immobile for a time, bobbing on the waves. And then, led by their flagship, all thirteen began to sail off to the left, and from there, in a wide circle. They seemed to sail in aimless patterns, uncertain of their goal, making a foray out to one heading, then changing direction abruptly, sojourning out again, then shifting again, until they had made the entire circuit two or three times. Ships broke formation in confusion and sometimes came perilously near one another. No one on the ships hailed or acknowledged Theriole.

On the shore, and on the walls and towers, those observing turned to each other in disbelief. This fleet was behaving as if it were dead lost, within plain sight of its quarry, just meters away. Had everyone gone blind? Were they all drunk, or conflicted, or confounded, or was it some convoluted and incomprehensible plot? What in heaven’s name were they doing out there? It was all the folk of Theriole could do to observe the strict order for silence, so eager were they to exclaim to their fellows in amazement at the bizarre show beyond the wall. But observe it they did, on pain of punishment, under the watchful eyes of Boone’s troops, and sensing that somehow their very lives depended on their compliance.

Now, over three hours since Jorelial Rey had first given her orders, the attacking ships were again stalled out beyond the sea wall, facing every direction, riding the rise and fall of the waves, but going nowhere. The Lady Regent hastened to check in with Boone, and every captain, to make sure they enforced the rule of silence, and then she climbed the stairs to peer in at Tashroth and Tvrdik in turn. Neither had moved an eyelash since they had begun their exercise, and an almost audible hum seemed to be emanating in a sort of regular pulse from both alcoves. She sent up a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening that they could hold out a little longer, and come away unharmed.

“I suppose
you
want to be the one who explains to Lord Drogue that we came within striking distance of our quarry, and had to give up because we just couldn’t
find
it?” Gargan’s face was purple, and his voice strident. “ ‘My lord, we sailed around in circles for hours where the charts said the palace ought to be, but we just didn’t
see
any palace.’ Is
that
what you want to tell him, Neritz?”

“Of course not!” Neritz was beginning to look very much the worse for wear. His eyes were wide with terror, his clothing and face were wet with perspiration, and his hair was disheveled from running his hands through it in frustration. He was beginning to think he was losing his mind. “Look, I am as loathe as you are to return to Lord Drogue empty-handed, but what do you suggest I do? I’ve tried everything I can think of. Nothing makes any sense, and we are no closer than when we started.”

Gargan’s face twisted, “I’m beginning to suspect some sort of trickery, perhaps even sorcery here. What other explanation could there be? I say, if all the instruments, and all the charts, and all the navigators say there should be a palace dead ahead, then maybe there
is
a palace dead ahead. I say we sail forward.”

“Are you insane? Look at those rocks, and the fog and the surf. We’ll be dashed to pieces! We haven’t any maps to guide us; we won’t be able to see a bloody thing in there…that’s all we need to add to our report. ‘By the way, my lord, we lost several of your brand new ships, gone down with all hands in a rocky patch…’ If we venture in there, whatever happens will be on
your
head, Gargan, and
you
can be the one to tell him.”

“And if we do nothing else, and turn tail now, the honor will be
yours
.” Gargan smiled an ugly, gap-toothed grin, “It’s the only direction we haven’t explored – I say we go. Or are you so much a coward?”

Neritz bristled at that, “Very well, but remember I warned you.” He gave the order.

They all saw it at the same moment. After hours of aimless circling and pointless meandering, the invading ships in the harbor all straightened themselves out, regrouped into a proper formation, and began to sail slowly, but in a direct and inexorable line, straight toward them. To her great dismay, Jorelial Rey had to admit that the enemy might just have caught on to their deception. She wasn’t sure at what point they would actually be on the other side of the wizard’s illusion, or, for that matter, how much longer he could continue to generate it. All along the beach and the parapets, Boone’s soldiers began reaching for their weapons and shifting their weight, in case they found themselves confronted with an invading army. The Lady Regent bit her lip. She was about to lose her own private battle for control of the situation. She could send for the Legions of Light, and have reinforcements on the scene quickly, but she would not have Tvrdik to instruct them in what to do. And the safety of Theriole and everyone in it had to come first. Boone would take over defending the castle his way. Drat. It was a maddening position in which to find one’s self, and she wasn’t at all clear on her next move.

The ships came inching forward, hesitant, and in a strange, lurching pattern, as if testing the waters, or sailing around invisible obstacles. Closer and closer they sailed, certain to break through the illusion at any moment. Just then, a commotion down at the river’s mouth drew Jorelial’s attention. From her high vantage point, she heard muffled exclamations piercing the enforced silence, and saw people backing away from the riverbank in alarm, exactly where the Maygrew poured into the sea. Some sort of unusual turbulence seemed to be disturbing the delta waters, foaming and swelling, and though she couldn’t be entirely sure from this distance, she thought she saw some small blue and grey-green figures leaping and weaving in and out of the spray, bobbing and tumbling at the juncture of river and sea. She stood mesmerized, as, before her eyes, the sea began to push back at the river, pouring its salty treasure into the mouth of the Maygrew. And the river stood its ground and pushed back. Bit by bit, a huge wall of water between river and sea began to rise. Higher and higher it reached, rearing up like the arched neck of a proud stallion. Impossibly tall the wave grew, foam caps beginning to curl with the impulse to move. For a moment the entire phenomenon hung suspended there, mammoth and terrifying, while the entire population of Theriole watched in breathless horror. And then, it all came crashing down.