21 Taste of Death

‘YOU MARRIED AN Atlantian princess?’ The scout was scratching his head, skin flaking onto his cloak. ‘My Ma was a princess, but she never wanted me to marry one.’

Podral Pole was hunkered between sacks of old grain with a sour expression. The hold stank of stale water, salt, and millet; it was a place to sleep. On an imperial galley it would’ve held over three hundred rowers on wooden benches, but there was no such on the Atlas.

Pole gave the scout a miserable look. ‘In my defence, I didn’t know she was bloody royalty. At least, not until after. You don’t know her like I do. For that matter, you don’t know me neither.’

‘I do,’ said Vilt. ‘I knew you both and you were perfect together. Both of you causing trouble everywhere you went. You loved her and don’t dare deny it.’

Pole snorted. ‘Married her, didn’t I? She’s always been a rebel, though. Defied her father every which way she could. Sometimes just to see the look on his face. Therein lay the problem, you see. He and I didn’t get along. Haven Tone was a difficult man at the best of times. I met him once and I kept outta his way ever since.’

‘That would be the king of Atlantis,’ said Vilt to the others, with a nod.

‘Well, it would be wouldn’t it,’ Threadfin grumbled. ‘Pod only ever crosses anyone worth a kingdom and not a gold dralan less.’

Pole grimaced, but didn’t deny the truth of it. ‘Put a death sentence on my head, Haven did, or so I was led to believe. Anyhow, he didn’t like me marrying his precious daughter. I’m not Atlantian.’ He was eyeing the viral. ‘That woman is right dangerous, lad, and this trip o’ yours is a bad idea. As well as made a deal with the Grim.’

Threadfin felt ill and not for the first time. ‘Think I may have gone and done that already.’ He was thinking of the Librarian.

‘You’re dangerous too, Pod,’ said Vilt, ‘and so am I. What of it?’

‘Aren’t all ex-wives dangerous?’ asked Threadfin. ‘What’s that old saying? Oh yeah, “The Grim himself hath no fury like a woman spurned”.’ He was enjoying his Darken’s discomfort and wasn’t going to allow himself to feel guilty over it. Pole would’ve enjoyed it if it was the other way around. Dessa could be difficult, but he didn’t think she was the stab-a-man-in-the-back-twice sort. His Darken was just love-sick and she had ignored him the entire trip.

A shout rose from up on deck, and Dessa stuck her head through the hatch. ‘You had better get up here.’

‘Who?’

‘All of you.’

‘What is it? asked Pole, getting to his feet, reaching for his sword and scabbard. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘We’re here,’ Dessa shouted down. ‘Atlantis. We’ve arrived.’

‡

THE ATLAS SLID THROUGH the waters of the wide canal with ease. Dessa stood at the prow fiddling with her astrolabe.

On either side was evidence of a terrible destruction, but there was also a lot of debris and sunken vessels. She didn’t leave the device for a second, pulling this lever or extending that one. The ship navigated the obstacles as though they didn’t exist. The crew had little to do although several stood on both sides of the deck with long poles ready to fend off anything too close.

Could make a fortune with ten of those devices, thought Threadfin. There wasn’t a sea-faring nation in existence wouldn’t pay top gold or wage a war to get hold of an astrolabe. The one flaw was the necessity for spectralic magic. Still, there were breathers out there with talent, and maybe the devices could store it somehow.

‘My Ma said the entire island sank,’ muttered Grudge, gazing left and right, likely wondering how his Ma could’ve gotten it wrong. ‘Knew a lot about stuff, she did. Anything what sunk, burnt, or rotted, she knew all about it.’

Dessa looked troubled. ‘Part of me wishes it had.’

Threadfin shot her a glance though she didn’t elaborate. The canal was a part of the city, miles of concentric circles with the citadel at the centre. They slowly navigated the waters, drawing closer to the heart of Atlantis. They had ample time to take in the level of devastation.

Everywhere, great buildings towered over the canals, growing taller the further in they went. Most were crumbling and some had collapsed, leaving nothing except jagged piles of stone, wood, and glass. Evidence of death lay everywhere, bones and shreds of clothing scattered throughout. In the canals themselves sat rotting boats and ships.

‘This was done by magic,’ Threadfin noted. ‘There’s no army, no armada in the world, to cause this much destruction. It’s too vast.’ He caught her eye and saw the guilt written large. ‘Dessa, what did your father do?’

She pointed ahead. Rising large was the huge citadel wreathed in fog. Or, what remained of it. Jagged towers leaned drunkenly with massive domes shattered and walls fractured. The sheer size of it, the incredible heights it reached, boggled Threadfin’s mind. Were those bridges linking the towers? He refused to believe anyone could walk across those. He was undead, but he felt dizzy looking up at them.

‘Giants built this,’ he whispered.

‘Bloody big ones too,’ muttered Vilt. ‘Even they’d have had a difficult time of it.’ She pointed out one tall building, its top vanishing into the clouds.

‘Atlantians built Atlantis,’ Dessa snapped, ‘and no one else. Thousands of years ago while the rest of humanity was playing with stones, we were learning to blend invention with magic. Our race has hidden its secrets from the world for a reason. Can you imagine how many invasions we would’ve suffered if we hadn’t? What the world learned of our inventions was nothing compared to what we achieved. We were the First People.’

‘You’re lying,’ said Pole with a snort.

She turned to regard him and everyone else pretended to look elsewhere. Everyone except Threadfin. He was grinning. He needed details so he could annoy his friend later. Point out where he’d gone wrong and so on. Helpful advice.

‘When was the last time we saw one another, Podral Pole?’ Dessa’s tone was low and icy cold.

The Darken blinked. ‘Um, well, eighteen years ago thereabouts?’

‘You mean to tell me after all this time, your first words to me are to accuse me of lying?’

‘You tried to kill me, Dess.’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Well, you left me to get killed then, didn’t you?’

‘You look pretty healthy to me.’

He stabbed a finger at her, one in danger of being bitten off. ‘You left me behind, Dess, and I got sentenced to death!’

‘I had to get the artefact back to Atlantis.’ She pointed at the astrolabe. ‘If you had followed my instructions, I wouldn’t have had to leave you. It was the only way I was going to escape with it. Not my fault you’re too dumb to listen.’

‘Not how I remember it.’

‘Losing this to an imperial spy would’ve cost my father the throne and possibly the lives of our entire family.’

‘Again, you’re lying. I could always tell. You always get defensive when you lie.’

‘Excuse me?’ Her tone was low with a dangerous edge. Threadfin wasn’t enjoying this anymore. In fact, he felt worried for his Darken.

The others had begun to back away taking a stronger interest in the destruction beyond the ship. It was far less uncomfortable viewing.

Pole jabbed a finger at her a second time. ‘Did you think I was clueless, Dess? You weren’t after the astrolabe, or at least not just that, though I’m fair certain one never got stolen. I accept you didn’t want something to fall into imperial hands. Yes, I know more than you think.’

‘Don’t embarrass yourself, Pod. You don’t know anything. Guesses aren’t worth much.’

‘It was something else you wanted, something of far greater value. You wouldn’t have done what you did for a navigational piece of crap the imperium would never have been able to use.’

Dessa appeared to grow taller and Threadfin thought her face couldn’t possibly get any redder. Then it did. ‘The astrolabe is a rare artefact you stinkin’ pile of fish guts. I could hardly let it fall into the hands of another power.’

The Darken growled and uttered a curse. ‘Quit trying to deflect. It won’t work. Hate me if you want to, but I’m not the fool you think.’

‘Like I said, you know nothing,’ she muttered, turning back to examine her device.

Threadfin could see his friend’s frustration and pain. He did feel somewhat guilty to be witnessing the exchange. I might even wait a couple of days before making fun of him.

Pole said in a low voice, ‘You left me to die, Dess. Rare devices, your father, the imperium’s spies, none of it don’t change what you did. You abandoned me.’ He walked across the deck to the port rail, leaned out and spat.

Dessa was hammering at the astrolabe, treating it roughly in a way she hadn’t before. She was muttering to herself.

‘He loves you,’ said Threadfin, wishing he could fix it for them. ‘You know that, right?’

She looked up at the mage with one eyebrow cocked. ‘Why in the name of the Spectrum above would you think that? You heard him.’

‘Because he’s hurting. If he didn’t love you, he wouldn’t care. He’d get his revenge or forget about you.’

‘You’re undead, Todder. What do you know about love?’

Threadfin winced. ‘Nothing,’ he whispered. ‘Forget I said anything.’

‡

NEGOTIATING THE CANALS to reach the main city docks took another hour. The crew eventually had to use their poles, as the astrolabe guided them in. Once they reached the dock, Dessa having eased the ship between two charred wrecks, they began to disembark.

Dessa gathered them into a group on the stone quayside. The crew remained aboard with orders to have the ship ready to leave. Threadfin couldn’t help notice Dessa had removed a vital component of the astrolabe, the crystals. I guess she doesn’t trust her crew.

‘This city was my home,’ she told them, ‘and I am the one person here who knows it.’ Pole mumbled something and she glanced at him. ‘I know it better than anyone else does.’ She gave him a pointed look until he whistled and pretended to be examining his surroundings.

‘Where do we need to get to?’ Vilt asked.

The Atlantian jerked a thumb at the citadel, which sat at the end of a long thoroughfare with ornate buildings lining both sides. Beyond those the concentric circles of the city swelled in silence. ‘Once inside you will do as I tell you. This place isn’t as it once was. I don’t just mean the devastation. It’s dangerous here. We get in, grab my father, and then we get out.’

‘You know I’ve been wondering,’ said Vilt, ‘has your father just been living in there all by himself? How’s he been surviving all these years? How do you know he’s alive?’

‘She makes a good point,’ said Threadfin. ‘When you said we’d be going to get your father I assumed the destruction we’d heard about was exaggerated.’

‘Sounds lonely,’ added Grudge, nodding agreement. ‘My Ma, now she—’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Pole barked, leaving the scout frowning, and scratching his nose. ‘If Haven Tone is alive, we’ll find him. If not, well ...’

Dessa grimaced. ‘You will see and understand, soon enough.’

‘A little cryptic,’ muttered Threadfin, eyeing her. His faith in her was beginning to wane a little. Maybe his Darken had a point about her.

‘Look,’ she snapped, rounding on the mage, ‘if I could avoid this, I would, but you insisted we come here.’

Something wasn’t right though he couldn’t put his finger on it. She was agitated and he wasn’t certain it had to do with her father. ‘You sure this is what we need to do, Dess? There isn’t a map or something.’

The princess glared at him, but nodded. ‘It is the only way. You said the world is at stake? Well then, we’d better hurry.’

They headed along the broad thoroughfare towards the citadel. At first, Threadfin thought he saw statues on either side, in front of the buildings, perhaps melted in the heat of magic. Grudge halted in front of one and picked at it with a fingernail, sniffing.

‘Scout?’ Pole snapped. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ said Dessa, who had been in the lead. She returned to stand beside the mage.

‘Why?’ asked Threadfin, as he watched Grudge lean in and lick the surface, which appeared mottled and warped and leaking a milky substance.

‘Well, for one thing, those people have been dead a very long time.’

Pole grabbed hold of the soldier dragging him away. Vilt barked a laugh as Grudge licked his lips.

‘And you breathers have the gall,’ Threadfin muttered, ‘to say we undead are disgusting.’

‘Never said no such thing,’ said Pole. ‘Heard others say it, but I never did.’

‘You called me a grave-maggot, remember?’

‘Sure, though I never said you were disgusting.’

‘It’s the same thing.’

‘I was bleeding to death at the time. Didn’t know what I was saying.’

They resumed their march into the city and Pole leaned in, speaking conspiratorially, as they walked. He appeared to be staring at Dessa’s butt while he whispered, ‘You think I’ll get a second chance?’

‘You called her a liar. Twice.’

‘Yeah,’ he conceded, ‘okay, but I didn’t mean it and those events were a long time ago anyhow. People change, right?’

Threadfin decided not to bother answering. Breathers—no, he’d never understand them. Inwardly, he was worried. He thought maybe Dessa had been lying, but they were in too deep to turn back. His magic had been of no use in reaching Atlantis or so she’d claimed. What also worried him was could his magic get them out of the city if the need arose. He knew who was on the other ship too, and so did Dessa.

Vilt dragged Grudge along as the man stared at the statues, tongue hanging out. ‘Tastes like salt,’ he mumbled. ‘My Ma liked salt. On chicken, though. Hot and spicy on skewers like they eat them on Tage and Nynt. Hot and spicy like my Ma.’

‘Sweety, you know that’s not chicken,’ said Vilt, ‘and this is an island surrounded by ocean. Everything tastes of salt.’

Grudge was shaking his head, muttering, ‘Nope, didn’t taste like the sea. Like salt in the wound as my Ma used say. Yeah, blood-salt, like my dear old Ma used make. Yum.’

Threadfin opened his mouth to ask and decided he didn’t want to know.

When they reached the open citadel gates and the bridge beyond, it got worse. The dead lay heaped in piles on either side. Something had prevented the bodies from rotting like they had elsewhere. A lingering magic perhaps, persevering them. Threadfin knew it wasn’t viralic. He would’ve sensed something.

The bridge remained clear, but the canal was bloated with rotting flesh and protruding bones. There was little water left in this section. Dessa halted, staring down at the necropolis. Strangely there was no odour.

‘My Ma always said,’ muttered Grudge, ‘the road to Hell’s Teeth was paved with dead and she were right. Never wrong was my Ma, not once.’ The scout picked his nose and spat into the canal.

Dessa was leaning on the bridge staring down at the congealed sludge of what must’ve been Atlantian citizens. People she’d known and cared about. Threadfin placed a hand on the wall beside her. She glanced at it and then back down. ‘Does it bother you being undead?’ she asked. ‘Do you care that you’re not like us? I know I made fun of you. I never meant it. Any of it. Do people get second chances?’

‘Dessa, what happened here?’ Her mood had changed dramatically since stepping off the ship and it was easy to see why, but he sensed something else was going on.

‘Doesn’t matter. They’re all dead.’ She gestured northwest towards leaning towers and what Threadfin thought were whitecaps with a hazy line of mountains beyond. ‘The whole island is sinking. In a matter of weeks, Atlantis won’t exist. It will become a legend and then a myth. There’s no invention I’ve heard of which can fix this.’

Pole stood on her other side. ‘There is the matter of justice, Dess.’

‘You don’t get to call me that.’

Hurt was visible in his face, but all he said was, ‘Whoever is responsible, they must pay.’

She shoved herself back from the wall and turned unsteadily, tears in her eyes. ‘Well, I don’t know about justice. I’ve left such notions behind long ago. If you want someone to blame, he’s in there.’

‘Dess,’ Pole whispered, ‘how? Your father and I did not get along, but to do all this,’ he added gesturing about him, ‘no, I don’t believe it.’

Ignoring him, she turned and stalked towards the very heart of the city to the towering citadel. A hunk of square stone, branching off into towers and domed buildings, it covered a large area and rose to a height Threadfin could only guess at. He imagined the birds had a job getting up there. It was the one section of the city without damage and possibly habitable. If Haven Tone was inside, would he be sane? Alone all these years surrounded by death.

‘Well,’ said Threadfin. ‘Let’s go knock on the front door and see who’s home.’

‘Good, good,’ said Grudge, ‘coz I’m hungry. I’m in the mood for something salty.’