The merchant ship The Broken Promise had never taken on such important cargo before. She had taken on illegal consignments that were highly valued by those who had commissioned them, but never personages of such significance. Amidst teeming crowds lining the long pier at Terminus were diplomats from Helyas and the Tamu Plains, and at least another four from neighbouring countries were due to arrive any minute. These ambassadors would not ordinarily board a ship of such questionable heritage as The Broken Promise, but the vessel that had been originally sent from Griflet to take them across the Sea of Telamon had never arrived and rumours had spread of its demise at sea. For months, whispers had moved through the streets of the port city of Terminus like an unexpected wind, and stories had been told of a monstrous creature roaming the waters to the east. Some who had access to ancient scrolls put a name to this leviathan – the Ryugin. It was believed that all 255 crew aboard the ship from Griflet had been killed by the beast.
The Helyan Senate decreed that all ships leaving Helyas would be accompanied by a military escort. Following the Ghul attack at Sulis, the Senate had wasted no time in redirecting funds from civil enrichment programs back into military coffers. Old dreadnaughts rusting in the ports of Ceres and Corineus had been hastily refitted and put to sea. The Helyan Ambassador Pedaeus Rhodes and his consul, General Pylos Castalia, were charged with the task of securing the safety of the ambassadors travelling from Terminus to the Assembly of Nations in Cessair.
Pylos had decided that the ambassadors would travel in The Broken Promise. He had spoken to survivors of The Princess Orani, the Kompiran ship that had been attacked months earlier in the Jurojin Straits, and one thing they all agreed upon was that the sea-beast that had attacked them was intelligent. There had been reports that it had been looking for something or someone. Pylos believed that if the Ryugin were indeed searching for someone and if that person were a member of state, it would be unlikely that the creature would attack a merchant ship. The reasoning was crude and based on too many variables, but there was not a single ambassador who questioned the logic.
The Helyans had put to sea seven warships which would form a circle around the flotilla of ten ships that were about to set off from the port. These dreadnaughts sat on the horizon like cities, spewing out black smoke from their engines where teams of boiler men threw copious amounts of Cold to turn the turbines of the massive vessels. The ships were armed with every known type of fixed weapon. Massive harpoons and carronades lined the hulls of the siege-ships, ready to unleash a brutal retaliation at a moment’s notice.
Pedaeus stood with his hands on his hips, staring out at his seven warships. His stance reflected the pride with which he held these veteran vessels. Each had been restored to its former glory, thanks to his consul’s efforts. Pylos used the attack on Sulis two months earlier as leverage to secure the finances the Helyan armed forces had been denied for too long. It did not take long for the money to roll out and it became apparent that the Senate had been sitting on a large fortune that they had planned to spend on less practical pursuits. A frenzy of activity had readied the dreadnaughts for this mission, and despite the carnage that had been wrought by the Ryugin already, a small but vociferous spokesperson at the back of Pedaeus’ mind hoped the sea-beast would attack just so the might of the Helyan navy could be witnessed by all who ever doubted its relevance.
The docks were ablaze with colour and activity as boats took on supplies and crews. Four Helyan merchant ships were preparing for the crossing to Corra. Typically, their crews were the larrikins of the port, the loud, boorish types that gave sailors a bad name. Quite a few of these men and women were still inside the taverns drinking, whilst the junior members of the crew – politely referred to as landmen, but more popularly known as scrubbers – did all the hard work getting the boats ready to sail. The merchant ships sat low in the water as the last of their cargo was brought on board. A train of grizzums pulling a large wagon laden with all sorts of merchandise made its way down the docks to the largest of the merchant ships, a 150 foot iron-clad frigate called The Humble Pie.
On either side of the frigate, two cruise ships began taking on their affluent passengers. The first of these, The Daily Plunder, was seemingly empty of crew, the Tethran sailors yet to rise from a rather indulgent last night in port. The other cruiser was called Severed Ties, a Sessymirian cutter with a headsail bearing the emblem of a silver axe which shimmered in the bright Helyan sun. Most of these passengers were members of the Sessymirian aristocracy, a selfish and unloved family, accustomed to obsequious servants and fawning friends. They lined the rail of the cutter, looking out across the dock with obvious contempt for the lower classes that inhabited any city’s port. Some of these Sessymirians put voice to this scorn when some Spriggan traders approached their boat to ply their wares. One of the cutter’s passengers threw a half-eaten stonefruit at the nearest dockside trader. The fruit smashed into the side of the Spriggan’s head, staining his skin with its yolk. The sight of this caused tremendous merriment aboard the Sessymirian boat, and hoots of mocking laughter pealed across the decks as the poor Spriggan picked himself up and wiped his discoloured face. The Sessymirian noble who threw the fruit was clapped on the back by his peers who then found more fruit to lob at the Spriggans until the traders moved away to the other side of the pier.
Two science vessels were moored in the deep water at the pier’s end. One of these, a Kompiran caravel simply named The Discovery was a beautiful boat, with a hull coated in white iron and masts made from the purest Susanese whitewood from which stretched crisp lateen sails. The Discovery’s proud crew lined up on the deck in a perfectly straight line whilst their captain, a small man immaculately dressed in the cerise naval uniform of Kompira, inspected every inch of the gleaming vessel. The caravel was bound for the Oshalla Ocean, a dangerous journey of well over 1,000 leagues. She would face dreadful storms and treacherous ice reefs yet her crew looked as if they were all eager to set sail. They stood gazing expectantly at their captain, a stern man by the name of Masuru Ochi, waiting for a sign of approval.
The captain ran his white gloved hand down the sterncastle railing and inspected his fingers closely. He turned back to his crew, his stony face revealing nothing. He held the men and women lining the poop deck in his gaze. The edges of his mouth crept up and he nodded indicating his satisfaction. The crew cheered and threw their caps up in a euphoric explosion.
‘Chief Officer Nomura,’ Captain Ochi said quietly. Despite the cheering of the crew, his voice was heard and his chief officer, leaning on a walking stick stepped forward.
‘Yes Captain?’ she replied in a refined, mellow voice.
‘Release the fins!’
She beamed. It was obvious to anyone watching that Chief Officer Nomura had been bursting at the seams to carry out the order. She quickly hobbled across the deck to the Petty Officer and gave him instructions to move the ship away from the docks. Within minutes all lines had been released and The Discovery bobbed in the deep blue water thirty yards from the pier’s edge.
‘Deploy the blades!’ Kohana Nomura called up to the Petty Officer who subsequently bellowed the order down into the bowels of the ship where, unseen by those above deck, engineers worked furiously moving gears and stoking Cold-driven furnaces. Suddenly the white, gilded sides fell away from the ship and swung forward, turning as they did so. These fins then gently swept backward stroking through the water in a graceful arc. Whilst this took place, a tapered mast at the very rear of the boat was tilted over the stern until it locked into a wide recess in the ship’s transom. The mast then separated into nine connected segments and as one they weaved through the water in a fluid, serpentine motion. It seemed the vessel had come alive. Modelled on the giant white turtla of the Arion Ocean, The Discovery’s anthropomorphic body floated steadily in the deep blue harbour, her limbs gently pushing through the water causing concentric circles to radiate from her hull.
At the sight of this mechanical wonder, most people on the dock dropped their mouths in awe and some even clapped. The Sessymirians on the cruise ship – by contrast – stopped throwing fruit at the Spriggans and in an act of undisguised jealousy started lobbing it over at The Discovery, staining the elegant ship’s sides with yellow and green smears.
The other science vessel berthed in Terminus that day was a much smaller craft that had arrived in port the night before. The Silhouette had sailed from Amasis, a small Acoran outpost to the east. She was bound for Griflet on the southern edge of Acoran. In contrast to the elegant Kompiran ship, The Silhouette was rather prosaic in design. She had no sails at all, relying solely upon the brawn of her massive Cold engine. The tall, lithe Acoran crew manning this ship was carrying aboard supplies and paid scant attention to The Discovery’s proud display of innovative design.
The captain of The Silhouette was in deep conversation with a dark-skinned Acoran woman. They could not have been more dissimilar. He was rather rotund for an Acoran and his fair skin was burnt under the harsh sun of the Helyan coast. His bald head was graced with a few defiant strands of long, blonde hair. She, by contrast, was willowy and her hair was black, cropped close to her skull. Her face shone brightly as beads of perspiration glistened on her ebony skin.
A roar of laughter burst out from Severed Ties where a particularly fat Sessymirian had thrown a Nessan clawberry at the Kompiran ship. This fruit, notorious for the jagged spikes on its heavy skin, had landed in the middle of The Discovery’s triangular foresail and ripped a hole large enough to render the entire sail useless.
On the deck of The Silhouette, the Acoran woman raised a spyglass she was holding and set her gaze upon the fat Sessymirian who was preparing to lob another clawberry across at the Kompiran ship. The Acoran squeezed the handles on either side of the spyglass and a rapid burst of air signalled the release of a small glass ball which shot through the air and pounded into the clawberry in the Sessymirian’s hand. The glass orb shattered and the Sessymirian screamed as a viscous grey liquid spat out over his hand and oozed down his forearm.
She smiled. ‘His arm will be numb for days, but he will recover.’
The Silhouette's captain chortled with glee and slapped the woman affectionately across the backside. ‘You have done well, Dr Kallady. Your sister will be most impressed.’
‘Yes, Her Majesty will be pleased,’ she said with a wry grin exposing a perfect set of white teeth. ‘Will we be back in Amasis before the end of the month?’ she asked, clearly eager to return to the scientific outpost that gave birth to the unusual weapon she had just demonstrated.
As a member of the royal family of Acoran, Claudia Kallady could have chosen to live a pampered existence surrounded by the sort of wealth few Myrrans could dream of, but her brains simply would not allow it. In order to pursue her research with the sort of dedication only geniuses understood, Kallady removed herself from the Royal Palace in Elidor and lived a most satisfying life on the far side of the known world. ‘I need to return to my work, Captain. Do I have your guarantee that you can have me back in Amasis within three weeks?’
He laughed again, eyeing the formidable weapon the scientist held in her hands. ‘Dr Kallady, whilst you’re holding that thing, I would not disappoint you for the world!’
‘Jonas, you’d be foolish to ever disappoint your wife!’ she returned, and then gave him a demonstrative kiss on the lips. She walked away and his eyes lingered on her for a few seconds. There was something about seeing his wife fire a weapon so proficiently that aroused Captain Jonas Kallady.
Pylos stood beside Pedaeus, gazing over the scene before them. He loved the docks of Terminus, especially on a hot summer’s morning. The smells, the activity, the promise of adventure – it was more intoxicating than any ale served in the tavern houses at the entrance to the pier. The sight of the fleet of dreadnaughts standing like sentinels upon the horizon added to the appeal of the place.
‘What time do you want to head out Pylos?’ Pedaeus asked his friend as he stepped back to allow a young boy herding a small flock of shelp to pass. Shelp were among the Myr’s stupidest animals and the boy was hard put to steer the flock onto the deck of The Humble Pie before too many just wandered off the side of the pier to drown in the waters below. ‘Woolly bodies, woolly brains,’ the boy muttered apologetically as one of his flock started chewing on the toe of one of Pedaeus’ boots.
‘We’ll be going soon,’ Pylos said in response to Pedaeus’ question. ‘The ship’s ready and I think we should leave before that Kompiran boat does what I think it's going to do.’
He nodded towards The Discovery. The Kompirans never took well to insults as the Sessymirian who had thrown the clawberry at the science vessel was about to learn. Some members of the angry crew were lowering The Discovery’s torn foresail while others were fixing a spiked iron extension to the bowsprit. ‘I think they’re preparing to ram the Sessymirian ship.’
‘Let us hope so,’ replied Pedaeus temporarily dropping his voice. ‘I can’t abide those damn Sessymirians.’ He then turned his mind back to the matter at hand. ‘So what are we waiting for, General?’
‘Not what,’ replied Pylos. ‘Who. The Kheperan Ambassador and his consul are apparently getting drunk at one of the dockside taverns. We’re also waiting for the Ambassador from Ankara to arrive. Apparently his consul slept in this morning.’
Pedaeus laughed. ‘Rama Ta! How typical. That man will fall asleep anywhere! At the last assembly, he was snoring before the Chamberlain had finished his opening address.’
‘I can understand that.’
‘You don't like the assemblies, do you Pylos?’
‘A bunch of politicians sitting in a room for six hours at a time, all talking, no-one listening – what’s not to like?’
Pedaeus laughed. Even though he was a politician himself, he was not offended by Pylos’ sarcasm. A sly look crept into his eye, a precursor to mischief. ‘I believe Jehenna Canna will be at the next assembly.’
To a casual onlooker, it appeared that Pylos had no reaction to the provocative statement, but Pedaeus could see his friend’s jaw tighten ever so slightly at the mention of the Acoran’s name. Pylos stared across the docks, pretending not to hear, but Pedaeus’ insistent stare eventually brought out a reaction. ‘So?’ he said irascibly. ‘What’s so significant about that? You say it as if it means something to me.’
‘Oh come on Pylos!’ Pedaeus exploded into the sort of mocking laughter only tolerated between friends. ‘I’ve caught you staring at her! Besides, who could blame you? She’s very easy to look at.’
‘She’s also very married in case you hadn’t noticed Pedaeus, to the Minister for Justice no less.’
‘Scared of him, are you? Afraid he'll throw you in the Hulks for consorting with his wife?’
Pylos scoffed. ‘Afraid! Of that rattu! I don’t think so. He’s the last person in the Myr I’d be scared of.’
‘Then what’s stopping you?’ Pedaeus cajoled. ‘Perhaps you’re scared of her.’
‘Even if Maeldune were not around, I hardly think someone like Jehenna Canna would take any interest in me. I’m not exactly pretty, you know.’
Pedaeus looked closely at his friend. He knew Pylos was thinking about the scar that ran from his forehead to his jaw. ‘But Pylos,’ he laughed, ‘I happen to know that lots of women adore men with battle scars. You’d be surprised just how interested –’
Pylos had heard enough. ‘Seriously Pedaeus, there are days I am amazed you’re actually an ambassador! You just don’t know when to shut up.’ He pushed past his friend and moved down the pier to yell at some soldiers who were sitting down playing Siege whilst they were waiting for the last of The Broken Promise’s passengers to arrive.
‘Ambassador Rhodes, just how much longer is this going to take?’
Pedaeus turned around to find two Tamuan females looking up at him. They were no taller than four foot but what they lacked in height they made up for in attitude. The Tamuans were known to be the world’s most notorious complainers and Ambassador Kaniya Sawoya and her consul Sela Noye did little to break from that tradition. They wore ornate wooden masks over their faces, a fashion trait that was appreciated by Pedaeus as it saved him from having to look at their scowling expressions. The Tamuans’ dark-skinned bodies were adorned with an eclectic collection of colourful bangles, feathers and paint which contrasted significantly with their typically sour temperaments. It was not just their striking apparel and negative personalities that made them distinctive. The Tamuans also possessed an unusual physical attribute that was unique among the peoples of the Myr – quills. The brilliantly coloured barbs ran in a straight thin line from the crown of a Tamuan’s head all the way down to the small of the back. The spines were long, thin and shiny. Pedaeus knew that the needles could be used aggressively, but on the diminutive women before him, they seemed less of a threat than their acidulent tongues.
‘Ah, Ambassador Sawoya and Consul Noye, it is indeed a pleasure to see you.’
‘A pleasure to see us!’ scoffed Sela Noye who had always been the more outspoken of the pair. ‘We have been here for the past two hours and you have not bothered to extend a greeting to us.’
Pedaeus was accustomed to Sela’s demanding manner, but this never made conversations with her enjoyable exchanges. ‘Oh, quite the contrary, Consul Noye. I have been looking forward to seeing you again when I first heard you were coming to Terminus.’
The two Tamuans looked at each other and rolled their eyes behind their decorative masks. ‘What a bold display of insincerity, Ambassador! Do you take us for fools? You have been ignoring us!’ The mask was not enough to hide her disgust. Underneath it, her bottom lip pouted like that of a spoilt child.
‘I am sorry Consul. I have had other things on my mind, such as your safe passage across the Sea of Telamon.’
‘Pish!’ she grunted derisively. ‘Do you really think that you can protect us from this monster from the deep? I think you overstate your abilities, Ambassador Rhodes.’
Ambassador Sawoya waved her finger furiously. ‘Yes, we happen to know that you have no real strategy to combat this beast should it attack us.’
She turned to her consul who nodded excitedly, the feathers sticking out from the top of her mask exaggerating her movements. Sela stuck out a ring-encrusted finger and prodded it into Pedaeus’ breastbone. ‘Why can’t the Assembly of Nations come to us for a change?’ she asked, moving on to a new topic of dissatisfaction. ‘We Tamuans always have to travel further than anyone else to the assemblies.’
Pedaeus’ patience was fracturing with each syllable that exited Sela’s mouth. It was not just the substance of what she spoke. It was the manner in which she said it. Her voice was slightly nasal and coloured with an inflection that made everything she said sound like a tortured sigh. It seemed that he would be trapped with the pair until the other ambassadors arrived at the docks but then out of the corner of his eye he spied salvation. ‘General Castalia, you know Ambassador Sawoya and Consul Noye don’t you?’ he said to Pylos as his friend was sneaking his way down the far side of the pier.
Pylos grimaced, knowing exactly what Pedaeus was up to. He reluctantly stopped and said through gritted teeth, ‘Why yes, Ambassador Rhodes, we have met before.’
Before Pylos had a chance to move away, the Tamuans had swivelled around and were moving in on him. ‘General Castalia, we have been here for the past two hours and you have not bothered to extend a greeting to us.’
A look of desperation fell across Pylos’ face and he turned to Pedaeus to help extricate him from the conversation that would inevitably follow, but the Helyan Ambassador was no longer there. He was heading back down the pier towards the line of taverns at the pier’s entrance.
‘Where are you going?’ Pylos called forlornly as the two Tamuans shuffled around in front of him so that they stood between him and the retreating figure of Pedaeus Rhodes.
‘I’m just going to see what has delayed the other representatives,’ Pedaeus called, over-dramatising his sense of concern over the late arrivals. ‘I’ll be back when I can,’ he added, quickly turning so that the Tamuans would not see the smug look that broke out across his face.
‘I’ll come too!’ Pylos said eagerly.
‘No, no, no!’ protested Pedaeus. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. You can stay and keep our Tamuan guests entertained until I return.’
In the square outside the taverns a ruckus had broken out. Two seven foot, horn-headed Kheperans staggered across the busy plaza followed by a group of grim-faced Helyan men. The Helyans also staggered, the result of three hours of committed drinking and gambling which was a fairly impressive achievement before noon. The Helyans were not young. Age had robbed them of the chiselled, muscular bodies that were typical amongst the men of Helyas, but their years and their paunches did not stop them from shouting a wide number of insults at the Kheperans. Their inflammatory comments did not seem to be of great concern to the Kheperans who laughed and sang as they walked a crooked line towards the boats at the far end of the pier.
‘Ambassador Habid and Consul Hadith, I see you have made friends with some of the locals,’ Pedaeus said to the pair as he nodded at the four Helyans pursuing the Kheperans up the crowded pier.
‘Yes, we relieved them of a rather princely sum of gold over a game of sabat,’ replied Ambassador Hafaza Habid, the older of the two Kheperans, winking at his consul as he spoke. The man’s voice was deep and round, a pleasant voice to hear when it was not affected by the slurring caused by an inebriated tongue.
‘They don’t look happy,’ Pedaeus observed.
The area between the Helyans and the Kheperans quickly emptied when one of the Helyans pulled a short sword out of his scabbard. The people of Terminus were quite accustomed to dockside violence and knew that a Helyan who drew his sword was not doing so for display purposes. The other three Helyans followed suit. The crowd pushed back, some individuals spilling off the pier as a wide space was created around the drunken Helyans and the equally intoxicated Kheperans. Without meaning to Pedaeus found he was at the hub of the brewing conflict.
‘Give us back our money, you Kheperan scum!’ snarled the Helyan who had been first to draw his sword. He was also the one who had lost the greatest amount in the game of sabat that had just concluded so unhappily for the Helyans.
A broad grin formed across Hafaza’s broad face. He was not even remotely intimidated by the man’s aggressive approach, nor was he willing to comply with his demands. ‘Come and get it you bloated bag of bile!’ he jeered at the man. To add insult to injury, the Ambassador dangled a large bag of coins in the air which was only a fraction of the money he and Sefar Hadith had won that morning.
‘Are you sure that’s wise, Hafaza?’ Pedaeus – always the diplomat – whispered to the Kheperan Ambassador.
‘Oh it’s just a bit of sport, my friend,’ Hafaza replied, playfully punching Pedaeus in the shoulder. It was a gesture of friendship but it was characterized with more force than familiarity. The Kheperans were renowned for not knowing their own strength, a fact supported by Pedaeus’ smarting skin.
‘Do you think he knows?’ Pedaeus said as he nodded at the aggrieved Helyan who sprinted across the space, his blade raised and ready to strike. The man’s face was contorted in rage and it was clear he intended to kill Ambassador Habid there and then.
He didn’t stand a chance. He was not even within six feet of the Ambassador when the Kheperan consul dropped to his knees and lowered his head, the horn on his forehead sticking out before him like a lance. He moved so quickly that the Helyan wasn’t even aware of the horn until twelve inches of it were buried in his belly. Just as swiftly as he had dropped, Sefar Hadith rose, flicking his head back as he did so. Incredibly, the Helyan was lifted clean off his feet and thrown ten feet into the air, his body creating a thin, bloody arc as it sailed over the heads of the surrounding crowd. The man disappeared momentarily in the choppy waves slapping against the pier’s wooden pylons before bobbing back up to the surface, a fleshy buoy in the blue waters warning others against raising arms against a Kheperan.
The other three Helyans realized that pursuing the conflict would not be in their best interests and cut their losses, sheathing their blades as they backed away down the pier, heading for the relative safety of the nearest tavern.
Pedaeus turned to Sefar and scowled. ‘That could have been handled better, Consul,’ he said sternly. The young Kheperan dropped his head contritely as a sign of respect to Pedaeus, but the bloody point of his horn almost struck the Helyan Ambassador in the eye which only made the situation more uncomfortable. ‘Let us get you to your ship before you kill someone else,’ Pedaeus said gruffly, steering the pair towards The Broken Promise.
At the sight of Pedaeus returning with the Kheperans, Pylos excused himself from further conversation with the Tamuans who had spent the last ten minutes complaining about the fact the docks smelt of fish. ‘Did you get the Ankarans?’ he asked as he pushed between the Tamuans and drew Pedaeus aside.
‘I got distracted on the way,’ Pedaeus replied. ‘I’ll go fetch them now.’
‘No need,’ Pylos said gazing over his friend’s shoulder. ‘Here they come.’
Although the Ankarans were seen from time to time outside of their lush jungle lands, they always garnered protracted stares from those around them whenever they travelled abroad. They were quite tall – just a few inches shy of the height achieved by most Kheperan males – bipedal and generally humanoid in shape, but certain features separated them from other races. They had no nose on their face; instead a high, rounded ridge ran down from the crest of their bald heads to their wide lipless mouths. The top of the skull was adorned with a large, dark green dorsal fin that stood up as proudly as the crest atop a Scorian knight’s helmet. From the sides of their heads flowed long, turquoise-coloured dreadlocks. These thick and slimy locks resembled tentacles more than hair and hung all the way to the Ankarans’ waists. Many gold bands could be seen upon each strand and these clinked and tinkled like wind-chimes whenever the Ankarans moved their heads.
An Ankaran’s eyes were much larger than those of most Myrrans and they had no eyelids. Despite their size, these large green orbs formed little purpose since centuries ago a terrible disease robbed all Ankarans of the gift of sight. Both men walked with the aid of golden staff, intricately carved with distinct motifs understood only by the people of the jungle lands of Ankara.
The Ankarans’ large hands and feet were webbed, the necessity of which was quickly realized by any visitor to the water cities of Ankara deep in the equatorial forests to the east. Their skin was covered in moist, coppery scales. Even under the harsh Helyan sun, the Ankarans maintained a constant state of moistness; under their countless scales, water was continually secreted, a biological trait that allowed them to leave their aquatic habitats for as long as they needed to. The dorsal fin atop their heads soaked in any available moisture from the air and stored it in sacs which lay on either side of the neck, underneath their serpentine dreadlocks. Completing the Ankarans' distinctly amphibious appearance was a thick, tapering tail, which could usually be seen sticking out of the beautiful blue and red robes worn by the peaceful people. Despite the flurry of activity surrounding them, the two Ankarans deftly navigated the chaos of the docks with uncanny precision. Though blind, they were certainly not helpless.
As they drew closer to Pedaeus and Pylos, smiles appeared on both their faces. ‘Gentlemen, so sorry for the delay,’ said the Ankaran Ambassador Pochica Ku, his apologetic voice soft and mellisonant, like a stream running over small rocks. ‘My consul could not be woken from a heavy slumber.’ His consul, Rama Ta, blushed, the dorsal fin crowning his head turning a shade of red.
‘There is no need for the apology, Ambassador,’ responded Pedaeus diplomatically. ‘It has not delayed us.’
Hearing this, Sela Noye’s tongue erupted into action. ‘Not delayed us!’ she exclaimed. ‘Are you joking, Ambassador Rhodes? Of course it has delayed us. Why, Kaniya and I have been waiting for hours, sitting here being ignored by all and sundry!’
She would have continued but for a rather unexpected noise that was heard above the tumult of dockside activity. It was not a loud sound, but it was distinct. It was the sound of hooves clip-clopping on the timbers of the pier.
‘It seems we are taking on two extra passengers,’ Pylos said dryly to Pedaeus as they turned to face the origin of the sounds.
The Caquikki Ambassador Lokota Fall and his son and consul Tawhawki had arrived, unexpected and unannounced. The sight of these two foreigners brought an unusual quiet to the Terminus docks. Caquikki were an uncommon sight in Terminus.
They were physically impressive, taller than even the Kheperans when measured from hoof to head. Their six-legged, equine bodies were large and muscular, covered in short hair that was usually light in colour. Their torsos were similarly muscular but were usually exquisitely apparelled, softening the Caquikki’s appearance somewhat. The Ambassador and his consul wore richly-embroidered waistcoats embellished with a small pocket in which was placed a small, golden timepiece, a mechanical device the Caquikki had created to measure the passage of the day. Lokota paused to pull out his timepiece, open its lid and check the time. He peered down at it through a pair of spectacles, another Caquikki invention that improved the vision of the wearer.
The checking of the time was little more than a display of intellectual pride, a characteristic of the Caquikki that had always bothered Pylos. He had travelled to the island nation of Caquix and marvelled at its wonders, but was always a little uncomfortable around the Caquikki themselves. They were intellectuals and artists adept in almost every endeavour they deemed worthy of their attention. He wasn’t sure why they unsettled him so. The Caquikki were not as arrogant as the Acora nor were they as aloof as the Kobolds. They had none of the Sessymirians’ penchant for obstinacy; in fact, they were more open-minded than almost every other race in the Myr. But there was something about them that stopped Pylos from feeling at ease around them.
Whereas Pylos found great solace in tradition, the Caquikki committed themselves to change. They were an enlightened society that had developed at a pace Pylos found almost frightening. He had heard rumours that they were developing the means to travel the skies in airships that made the Spriggan skyshops look like dust-motes, but the fact the Ambassador and his son were in Terminus, apparently seeking passage across the sea suggested that the rumours had no substance to them.
As the Caquikki pair drew closer, Pedaeus stepped forward, his hands open wide in a happy show of hospitality. ‘Lokota, Tawhawki,’ he said with obvious fondness – Pedaeus had none of Pylos’ reservations about the Caquikki – ‘this is indeed an unexpected pleasure!’
The two Caquikki bowed low, their fetlocks temporarily resting upon the pier. The people of Caquix were well known for their civility, in dress, in speech and in manner.
‘Dear Ambassador Rhodes, it is truly joyous to our eyes to see you and your valiant consul again!’ the Caquikki Ambassador said magnanimously. His speech was so clean and precise, it made Pylos think of some of the actors he had seen perform in the Scarlet Rock Theatre, their diction so refined it seemed insincere.
‘We are equally pleased to see you both,’ Pedaeus replied, casting Pylos a quick glance to encourage him to show similar sentiments. Pylos added an awkward smile which was returned graciously by the Caquikki.
‘Good Pedaeus, I am afraid we must impose ourselves upon you,’ Lokota said with what Pylos thought to be feigned humility. ‘We had planned to travel to Brigantia aboard our own ship, but our captain has made it clear to us that in today’s fearful climate he would not risk passage across the Sea of Telamon. We are stranded and humbly request your assistance.’
Pedaeus stretched out his hand and grasped Lokota Fall’s in a show of friendship. ‘And it is given. We sail for Brigantia shortly. We would be delighted to have your company.’
Lokota shook Pedaeus’ hand and beamed with satisfaction. ‘Then it is settled!’
‘It seems we are all here,’ Pylos said, turning towards the ship The Broken Promise. ‘We will aboard immediately.’ He nodded politely to the Caquikki pair and strode off toward the awaiting vessel.
‘About time!’ grunted the Tamuans as he passed them. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from saying something to them.
Having given orders to the crew, Pylos Castalia and Pedaeus Rhodes walked up onto the poop deck of The Broken Promise where they found the dignitaries they were escorting to Cessair engaged in heated argument. As a mindless prank, one of the Promise’s crew – a foolish stevedore by the name of Agrippa – had thrown a dead fish on the deck as the blind Rama Ta made his way to the guests’ quarters. The Ankaran had slipped on the fish, and as he fell his staff had whirled up and smacked Sela Noye in the back of the head. This had led to a long dissertation as to why blind people should not be allowed to set foot outside their own homes. Five minutes into Sela’s rant, the Caquikki consul Tawhawki Fall had asked the Tamuan to stop talking. This was the last thing that would silence Sela and by the time Pylos and Pedaeus had come up to the poop deck, it was a place of dramatic gesticulation and wild remonstration.
‘Consuls and ambassadors. I know you are all excited about the journey but if I could have your attention.’
Pedaeus moved into the centre of the circle where Sela was thrusting her finger into Tawhawki’s girth as she vainly tried to drive home her point. Pedaeus held up his hands in a polite request for silence. The yelling eventually subsided, although notably Sela’s voice was the last one to stop. ‘We will be departing any minute now,’ he said with a warm smile upon his face. ‘Do you have any questions before we leave?’
Pedaeus was a natural statesman. Charismatic to a fault, he could easily turn a bad situation into an interesting one. With his hands held open before him, he awaited the questions that he knew were rushing through the minds of all assembled on the poop deck.
Lokota Fall was the first to speak. ‘Pedaeus, what safeguards do we have for our voyage across the sea? We have heard of the beast that roams these waters. We all know what happened to The Princess Orani.’
‘Not just The Princess Orani,’ Sela added before Pedaeus had a chance to respond. ‘Sixteen ships over the last ten weeks have fallen prey to this thing from the deep.’
‘That is true, but –’ Pedaeus began.
‘And is it true that countless smaller boats are also being attacked by squads of Ghul roaming the waters between Helyas and Tethra?’
‘I believe so, but –’
‘And was not the port city of Tamesis attacked by the winged monster that has decimated settlements around Lake Erras?’
‘It was, but that was weeks ago and the winged beast has not been seen since, so –’
‘Thank-you Ambassador. That’s very reassuring,’ Sela snapped, cutting him off yet again. ‘So you’re basically saying that it will be a miracle if we ever get to Cessair.’
‘Consul Noye, every precaution has been made to ensure your safety,’ Pedaeus said firmly yet softly. ‘You will be well-guarded during the transit.’
‘To be honest, Pedaeus,’ said Rama Ta, ‘as much as it pains me to say it, I think the Tamuan consul has a point. All the naval support you can muster is of small consolation when we face an enemy that can’t be killed.’
Pylos stepped forward and reluctantly entered the circle. ‘Consul, with all due respect, that’s not entirely true. We slew many Ghul when they attacked Sulis two months ago. Whilst the Ghul are difficult to vanquish, they can be killed.’
‘Well, that much is true,’ Sela added begrudgingly. ‘On the western edge of the Tamu Plains, where the savannah meets the mountains, we discovered a cavern that contained the scattered remains of thousands of Ghul.’
A collective gasp sounded across the deck. This was an astounding revelation to all gathered there that day. The Ghul had made their malevolent presence known in almost every country throughout the Myr and the thought that they could be killed and in such large number brought great hope to those who had suffered at their hands.
‘Dead?’ Pylos said incredulously.
‘In pieces, therefore dead,’ Sela answered proudly, as if taking personal responsibility for the slaughter.
The two Caquikki glanced at each other curiously.
‘Who had killed them?’ Rama Ta asked.
The Tamuan shrugged. ‘We don't know. It actually looked like they had killed themselves.’
Lokota Fall frowned behind his glasses. ‘A mass suicide?’
‘No. A battle.’
‘A battle?’ Tawhawki asked. Like his father, he was struggling to digest the tale Sela was unfolding.
‘Yes. It must have been a savage confrontation. Pools of dried blood. Dismembered limbs. Burnt husks of bodies. That sort of thing.’ She paused as she noticed that everyone was paying attention to her. Every individual on the poop deck was silent, hanging on every word she said. Sela sighed before continuing, enjoying the moment. ‘There wasn’t much left of the bodies. They seemed to have exploded.’
‘Exploded?’ Pylos muttered to himself, remembering what had happened to the Ghul he had slain on the walls of Sulis. They too had died in a similarly volatile way.
‘What did they look like?’ asked Tawhawki.
‘That’s the interesting thing,’ Sela replied. ‘Most seemed to be wearing the bone armour we now associate with the Ghul… but not all. There were other Ghul at the site. They looked different to the ones we have encountered thus far. Although it was hard to tell from the bloody remains, they seemed to be smaller, not much taller than a Tamuan, and they wore skins instead of armour. What was left of their faces was coloured in ochre paint and they...’ Her voice trailed off as her mind wandered away to the day she and her tribe members made the grisly discovery.
‘They what?’ asked Tawhawki, somewhat exasperated that she had not completed her last sentence. He had forgotten his earlier request – that she stop talking – and now waited impatiently for her to finish her description of the Ghul massacre.
‘Didn’t you ask me to shut up before?’ Sela asked smugly. She had not forgotten his comment.
‘I apologise,’ he said after a long pause. ‘Please continue, Consul.’
She was contented. Sela enjoyed nothing more than the sound of a forced apology. She smiled smugly to herself before returning to her story. ‘There was something else. It didn’t seem important at the time but we found a number of Myrran weapons.’
‘What kind of weapons?’ Pylos asked.
‘Axes mainly. Black ones. The type fashioned by the Kobolds.’
Pedaeus turned to Pylos. ‘Then Camulos has been invaded too. It would seem these Ghul stole the weapons from the smithies of Sarras.’
Pylos nodded. ‘But what is being described here is a civil war. Amongst the Ghul.’
The Caquikki leaned towards one another and exchanged puzzled glances. ‘The Ghaddar?’ Tawhawki whispered to his father, not intending the comment for public consumption. But the ears of the blind Ankarans were so finely tuned that both Rama Ta and Pochica Ku heard him.
‘Who are the Ghaddar?’ Rama said in the direction of the Caquikki.
Lokota Fall looked over the rim of his spectacles and said, ‘Pardon?’
‘Your son mentioned the Ghaddar? Please tell us who or what they are.’
‘It’s nothing,’ Lokota said dismissively. He turned away from Rama, avoiding his staring blind eyes.
‘No, it’s something,’ Pylos said, sensing there was more to the matter. ‘We’re in this together Ambassador. If you know something, please tell us.’
The Caquikki Ambassador reached up and took his spectacles from his face. He pulled a small white handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and wiped the spectacles carefully before placing them back on his face. It a gesture Pedaeus and Pylos had seen numerous times before in the Assembly of Nations. Lokota Fall was a frequent contributor to political discussions and wiping his spectacles was always a prelude to a speech.
‘What I am about to say,’ he said after clearing his throat, ‘is not fact. My reluctance to speak on it reflects the tenuous nature of the information.’ He stopped and considered carefully the details of his thoughts. ‘Long before I was appointed to the position of Ambassador, I was an historian. A professor. In the universities of Caquix, there are many ancient books, hundreds of dusty tomes and parchments dedicated to histories long since faded from our consciousness.’
It was a wonderfully eloquent introduction but it was lost on Sela who wasted no time in voicing her confusion. ‘Ambassador Fall, what are you talking about? I can see your lips moving but I cannot understand what is coming out of them.’
The Ambassador was unaccustomed to being addressed with such rude speech and he glowered at the impertinent Tamuan. Despite his desire to castigate her verbally, he returned to his speech. ‘These creatures that have invaded our lands, the Ghul, come from a realm beneath us once known as the Endless. It is not the first time they have invaded the Myr. Eons ago, they were a scourge upon the world, but our ancestors fought back and after years of toil, managed to lock the Ghul up in the prison of the earth. However they were not the only subterranean race. Another race, resembling the Ghul in every way but their hatred of all things living also dwelt in the Endless. They called themselves the Ghaddar and they did not seek dominion over the peoples of the Myr. They opposed the Ghul and their barbarous ways. When we most needed it, the Ghaddar came to the Myr’s aid and helped defeat the Ghul. Or, at least, that is the way the old books describe it.’
‘Then these Ghaddar are our allies!’ said Pedaeus with a note of triumph in his voice. ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’
‘Enemies? Friends? Who can say?’ Lokota said sagaciously. ‘These are strange times and we should be careful where we place our trust. The texts that make mention of the Ghaddar are ancient. They have been translated and reinterpreted. I’m not sure they can be relied upon at all.’
‘But this battle the Tamuans stumbled upon, it does support the notion of two opposing forces, a situation we can use to our advantage,’ Pylos said, sharing Pedaeus’ optimism.
‘Perhaps, but Ghaddar were supposedly few in number. Our salvation lies not with them.’
It was clear to the Helyans that Lokota was trying to discourage them from pinning their hopes upon the Ghaddar. Pedaeus understood why, but a Helyan was taught from birth to recognise opportunity and the existence of a subterranean species opposed to the Ghul was a favourable circumstance he could not ignore. ‘We should go to Tamu,’ he suggested. ‘Enter the cavern, search for Ghaddar survivors. Maybe they could give us information, or even fight alongside us.’
‘Pedaeus,’ Lokota said as he put a large hand on the Helyan’s shoulder. ‘If the texts are accurate and the Ghaddar did exist, there is no surety that they remain alive. For all we know, the slaughter the Tamuans discovered may well have signified the final destruction of the Ghaddar.’
‘But, at the very least, we should investigate the cavern,’ Pedaeus urged, surprised that his advice would be met with any resistance.
‘There will be no going back to the cavern.’
Sela had said it with such absolute certainty that it took Pedaeus several seconds to articulate his response. ‘Why, Consul? This cavern may hold the key to our survival against this pestilence from below. Give me one good reason why we should not head directly to Tamu and explore the site of the battle.’
‘Because it no longer exists. We brought in a team of stone gluks and razed the cavern to the ground.’ It was well known what a team of stone gluks could do when properly motivated. The stone gluks were slightly smaller than their Sessymirian cousins, the ice gluks, but were just as destructive when set to work on stone. ‘It took us twenty days but we managed to bring the whole cavern down. It would take months to clear away the debris. If there were any survivors, they now lie buried under rock and rubble a thousand yards thick.’
Pedaeus and Pylos looked at the Tamuan consul, their mouths agape. ‘Why would you do such a thing?’ Pylos said straining not to display the anger that bubbled in his veins.
‘We felt vulnerable,’ Sela said defensively, recognising the tension in Pylos’ voice. ‘We were not willing to leave ourselves open to attack, so we closed down the route the Ghul had been taking to our lands.’
It was a fair point and Pylos knew it.
‘Excuse me, General.’ It was the ship’s boatswain, a man named Capaneus, accompanied by the stevedore Agrippa. They stood to attention by the stairs that ran from the poop deck to midships, both men on their best behaviour before Helyas’ greatest military leader.
‘Yes, Bosun?’ Pylos replied. ‘What is it?’
‘Cap’n says ship’s ready to go, sir. He’s just awaiting your orders.’
‘Are all the other ships in the flotilla ready?’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Then give the captain my assent, Bosun. Head nor’ west until we have cleared the shoals, then due west until evening. The dreadnaughts escorting us will be taking this course. Let us begin our march across the waves.’
‘Yes sir!’ replied the sailors and they made their way around the group to inform the captain of Pylos’ wishes.
Rama sniffed the air. He recognised Agrippa’s scent. The smell of the dead fish he had placed under Rama’s foot was still on the man’s hands. He could feel the stevedore tiptoe around him. He could sense his guilt as he passed by.
Suddenly, the Ankaran stuck out his staff, jamming it into the coaming running down the side of the deck. Agrippa had no time to react and toppled forward into Sela Noye. He fell across her back and immediately felt the unique sensation of hundreds of sharp quills against his bare skin.
A harrowing scream filled the air as he thrust himself away from the Tamuan. A moment later he toppled backwards over the low gunnel encircling the deck. Seconds later, he hit the choppy waves heaving against the ship’s barnacle-encrusted hull.
Pylos turned to Capaneus whose face was a mixture of shock and concern, and said, ‘We can’t wait for him. He can swim back to port. Tell the captain to set sail without delay.’
‘Yes General,’ Capaneus said, saluting Pylos before heading back to the bridge.
Suddenly a great crashing sound erupted from behind the ship’s stern. For a terrifying second, Pylos thought it was the dreaded Ryugin but one look back at the pier revealed the source of the disturbance. The Kompiran ship The Discovery had rammed the Sessymirian cruiser Severed Ties. The Discovery’s iron-clad bowsprit had torn a gaping hole in the Sessymirian boat which was taking on water faster than its passengers and crew could bail it out.
By the time the Sessymrians had abandoned ship, The Discovery was at least a league out to sea, the broad fins of the ship effortlessly pushing through the azure waters of the Sea of Telamon. Pylos stood on the quarterdeck watching the beautiful Kompiran vessel disappear into the distance.
‘She’s a magnificent ship,’ observed Pedaeus as he joined his friend by the starboard gunnel.
‘Yes,’ agreed Pylos. ‘I hope she reaches her destination safely.’
Pedaeus laughed. ‘If I were you General, I’d worry more about myself!’ It was a deliberately inflammatory comment. Pedaeus knew Pylos would bite.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Pylos, think about it. When we get to Cessair, everyone will tell their tales of death and destruction and then the Assembly of Nations will look for a solution. And someone to implement that solution. Whatever happens at the Assembly, know this Pylos – you’ll be in the thick of it. Somehow, my friend, I think that the road in front of you is a lot worse than whatever is in store for that Kompiran ship. Why, I’d be very surprised if you ever get back to Helyas in one piece.’
‘That’s comforting,’ Pylos said, not amused by his friend’s theatrics.
‘You don't need comfort, General,’ Pedaeus said with a wry smile on his face as he pulled out a bottle of Nessan aleberry wine. ‘You need a drink.’
So the two Helyans sat down on the deck and drank until their words became slurs and their slurs became sleep.
