Читать книгу Ancestors of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley - Страница 11

Although the long day had been unseasonably cool, the sunset brought winds that were warm and an ominously hot night. Most of those who actually tried to sleep tossed and turned in damp frustration. The city that had been so quiet by day became the opposite that night, as its people wandered the streets and parks. Perhaps surprisingly, few were actually looting the deserted houses and shops; the rest seemed to be searching, but for what, none seemed to know – a cooler place to rest. Perhaps the true goal was to achieve that exhaustion of the body that alone can give peace to the fevered brain.

In their rooms at the top of the palace, Tiriki sat watching her husband sleep. It was several hours after midnight, but rest eluded her. They had been up late making final preparations to sail in the morning. Then she had sung until Micail fell at last into an uneasy slumber, but there was no one to sing her to sleep. She wondered if her mother, who might have done so, was wakeful as well, waiting for what must come.

It does not matter, she told herself, looking around the room where she had known so much joy. I will have the rest of my life to sleep…and weep.

Beyond the open doors to the terrace the night sky was red. In that lurid light she could see the silhouette of Micail’s feather tree, which she had rescued and repotted. It was foolish, she knew, to see in that small plant a symbol of all the beautiful and fragile things that must be abandoned. On a sudden impulse she rose, found a scarf to wrap around the pot and the slender branches, and tucked it into the top of her bag. It was an act of faith, she realized. If she could preserve this little life, then perhaps the gods would be equally merciful to her and those she loved.

Except for the light that burned before the image of the Great Mother in the corner of the bedchamber, all the lamps had gone out, but she could still see the disorder in the room. The bags they had filled to take with them stood next to the door, waiting for the last frantic farewell.

The fitful flicker behind the veil of the shrine focused her gaze. Ahtarra had many temples and priesthoods, but only in the House of Caratra were a high altar and sanctuary consecrated in the Mother’s name. And yet, thought Tiriki with a faint smile, the Goddess received more worship than any of the gods. Even the humblest goatherd’s hut or fisherman’s cottage had a niche for Her image, and if there was no oil to spare for a lamp, one could always find a spray of flowers to offer Her.

She rose and drew aside the gauze that veiled the shrine. The lamp within was alabaster, and it burned only the most refined of oils, but the ivory image, only a handspan high, was yellowed and shapeless with age. Her aunt Domaris had brought it with her from the Ancient Land, and before that, it had belonged to her mother, the legacy of a lineage of foremothers whose origins predated even the records of the Temple.

From the lamp she lit a sliver of pine and held it to the charcoal that was always laid ready on a bed of sand in the dish beside the lamp.

‘Be ye far from me, all that is profane.’ As she murmured the ancient words, she felt the familiar dip of shifting consciousness. ‘Be far from me, all that lives in evil. Stand afar from the print of Her footsteps and the shadow of Her veil. Here I take refuge, beneath the curtain of the night and the circle of Her own white stars.’

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The charcoal had begun to glow. She picked up a few grains of incense and scattered them across it, feeling awareness shift further as the pungent sweet smoke spiraled into the air.

Bowing her head, she touched her fingers to her brow and her lips and breast. Then her hands lifted in a gesture of adoration so familiar it had become involuntary.

‘Lady…’ the word died on her lips. The time for asking that this fate should pass was gone. ‘Mother…’ she tried again, and whatever words might have followed were borne away by a tide of emotion.

And in that moment, she became aware that she was not alone.

‘I am the earth beneath your feet…’ The Goddess spoke within.

‘But the island is being destroyed!’ A panicked part of Tiriki’s soul objected.

‘I am the burning flame…’

‘The flame will be drowned by the waves!’

‘I am the surging sea…’

‘Then you are chaos and destruction!’ Tiriki’s soul protested.

‘I am the night and the circling stars…’ came the calm reply, and Tiriki’s soul clung to that certainty.

‘I am all that is, that has been, that will be, and there is no power that can separate you from Me…’

And for a moment outside time, Tiriki knew that it was true.

When she returned to awareness of her surroundings, the incense had ceased to burn and the charcoal was grey. But as the lamp flickered, it seemed to her that the image of the Mother was smiling.

Tiriki took a deep breath and reached out to lift the image from its stand. ‘I know that the symbol is nothing, and the reality is all,’ she whispered, ‘but nonetheless I will take you with me. Let the flame continue to burn until it becomes one with the mountain’s fire.’

She had just finished wrapping the image and tucking it into her bag when the chimes at the doorway rang faintly. She ran to the entry, afraid Micail would wake. A few swift steps brought her to the door, where she waved the messenger back out into the hall with her finger at her lips.

‘Beg pardon, Lady,’ he began, red-faced.

‘No,’ she sighed as she cinctured her robe, remembering the orders she had left. ‘I know you would not come without need. What brings you?’

‘You must come to the House of the Twelve, Lady. There is trouble – they will listen to you!’

‘What?’ She blinked. ‘Has something happened to Gremos, their guardian?’ Tiriki frowned. ‘It is her duty to—’

‘Beg pardon, Lady, but it seems that the Guardian of the Twelve is – gone.’

‘Very well. Wait a moment for me to dress, and I will come.’

‘Be still—’ Tiriki pitched her voice to carry over the babble of complaint and accusation. ‘You are the hope of Atlantis! Remember your training! Surely it is not beyond you all to give me a coherent tale!’

She glared around the circle of flushed faces in the entryway to the House of the Falling Leaves and let her mantle slip from her shoulders as she sat down. Her gaze fixed on Damisa; red-faced, the girl came forward. ‘Very well then. You say that Kalaran and Vialmar got some wine. How did that happen, and what did they do?’

‘Kalaran said that wine would help him sleep.’ Damisa paused, her eyes briefly flicking closed as she ordered her thoughts. ‘He and the other boys went down to the taverna at the end of the road to get some. There was no one there, so they brought two whole amphorae back with them and drank all of it, as far as I can tell.’

Tiriki turned her gaze to the three young men sitting on a bench by the door. Kalaran’s handsome face was marred by a graze on one cheek, and water dripped down his companions’ necks from wet hair, as if someone had tried to sober them up by plunging their heads into the fountain.

‘And did it put you to sleep?’

‘For a while—’ Vialmar said sullenly.

‘He got sick and puked,’ said Iriel brightly, then fell silent beneath Damisa’s glare. At twelve, Iriel was the youngest of the Twelve, fair-haired and mischievous, even now.

‘About an hour ago they woke up shouting,’ Damisa went on, ‘something about being stalked by half-human monsters with horns like bulls. That woke up Selast, who was already mad because they didn’t get back here until all the wine was gone. They started yelling, and that got everyone else into it. Someone threw the wine jug and then they went crazy.’

‘And you all agree that this is what happened?’

‘All except for Cleta,’ Iriel sneered. ‘As usual, she slept through it all.’

‘I would have calmed them down in another few minutes,’ said Elara. ‘There was no need to disturb the Lady.’

Damisa sniffed. ‘We would have had to tell her in any case because Gremos was gone.’

Tiriki sighed. For the Guardian of the Acolytes to leave her post in normal times would have been cause for a citywide search. But now – if the woman failed to take her place in the boat, it would go to someone more deserving, or luckier. She suspected that the events of the next few days would effect their own winnowing of the priesthood and test their character in ways none of them could have foreseen.

‘Never mind Gremos,’ she said tartly. ‘She will have to take care of herself. Nor is there any point in casting blame for what happened. What matters now is how you behave during the next few hours, not how you spent the last.’ She looked at the window, where the approach of dawn was bringing a deceptively delicate pallor to the lurid sky.

‘I have called you the hope of Atlantis, and it is true.’ Her clear gaze moved from one to another until their high color faded and they were ready to meet her eyes. ‘Since you are awake, we may as well get a head start on the day. Each of you has tasks. What I want—’

The chair jerked suddenly beneath her. She threw out her hands, brushed Damisa’s robe, and clutched instinctively as the floor rocked once more.

‘Take cover!’ cried Elara. Already the acolytes were diving for protection under the long, heavy table. Damisa pulled Tiriki to her feet, and they staggered toward the door, dodging the carved plaster moldings that adorned the upper walls as they cracked and fell to the ground.

Micail! With her inner senses Tiriki felt his shocked awakening. Every fiber of her being wanted the strength of his arms, but he was half a city away. As the earth moved again she sensed that even their united strength would not have been enough to stop the destruction a second time.

She clung to the doorpost, staring outside as trees tossed wildly in the garden, and a huge column of smoke rose above the mountain. The shape of a great pine tree made of ashes, from whose mighty trunk a canopy of curdled cloud was spreading across the sky. Again and again the ground heaved beneath her. The ash cloud above the mountain sparkled with points of brightness, and glowing cinders began to fall.

Chedan had told them how other lands had fallen into the sea, leaving only a few peaks to mark their former location. Ahtarrath, it was clear, would not disappear without a battle of titanic proportions. At the moment she could not decide whether to exult in that defiance or to whimper in fear.

A movement in the distance caught her eye – above the trees that surrounded the House of the Falling Leaves she saw one of the gleaming gold towers shiver, then topple. As it vanished from sight, a tremor like another earthquake shook the ground. She winced at the thought of the devastation that now lay beneath it. In the next moment the sound of a crash from the other side of the city reached their ears.

‘The second tower…’ whispered Damisa.

‘The city is already half deserted. Perhaps there were not too many people there—’

‘Perhaps they were the lucky ones,’ Damisa replied, and Tiriki could not find words to disagree with her. But for the moment at least, it appeared that everything likely to fall was already on the ground.

‘Someone get a broom,’ muttered Aldel; ‘we should get the rubble off of this floor—’

‘And who will sweep the rubble from the streets of the city?’ asked Iriel, her voice trembling on the edge of hysteria. ‘The end is upon us! No one will ever live here again!’

‘Control yourselves!’ Tiriki pulled herself together with an effort. ‘You have been told what to do when this moment arrived. Get dressed and put on your strongest shoes. Wear heavy cloaks even if it grows warm – they will protect you when ash and cinders fall. Take your bags and get down to the ships.’

‘But not everything is loaded,’ exclaimed Kalaran, trying to control his fear. ‘We were not able to get half the things we were supposed to take. The shaking has stopped. Surely we have a little time—’

Tiriki could still feel tremors vibrating through the floor, but it was true that for the moment the violence had passed.

‘Perhaps…but be careful. Some of you are assigned to carry messages for the priests. Do not enter any building that seems damaged – an aftershock might bring it down. And don’t take too long. In two hours you should all be on board. Remember, what men have made they can make again – your lives are more valuable now than anything you might risk them for! Tell me again what you are to do—’

One by one they listed their duties, and she approved or gave them new instructions. Calmer now, the acolytes scattered to gather their things. The architects of the House of the Falling Leaves had built better than they knew –though ornamentation littered the floor, the structure of the house was still secure.

‘I must return to the palace. Damisa, get your things and come with me—’

Tiriki waited at the door until her acolyte returned, watching the steady fall of cinders into the garden. Now and again a bit that was still glowing would set one of the plants to smoldering. New smoke was billowing from the city. Numbly she wondered how long before it was all afire.

‘I thought the sun was rising,’ said Damisa at her elbow, ‘but the sky is dark.’

‘The sun has risen, but I do not think that we will see it,’ answered Tiriki, looking up at the dark pall rolling across the sky. ‘This will be a day without a dawn.’

Cinders were still falling as Tiriki and Damisa set forth from the House of the Falling Leaves, adding danger from above to the hazards of navigating streets whose pavements were buckled by the earthquake and littered with fallen debris. When a particularly large piece of lava barely missed Tiriki, Damisa dashed into an abandoned inn and came back with two large pillows.

‘Hold it over your head,’ she said, handing one to Tiriki. ‘It will look silly, but it may protect you if something larger falls.’

Tiriki caught the note of incipient hysteria in her own answering laughter and cut it short, but the thought of what they must look like, scuttling through the shadowed streets like mushrooms with legs, kept a weird smile on her lips as they picked their way toward the palace.

It was the only amusement she was to find during that journey. Shocking as the devastation from yesterday’s quakes had been, she had at least been able to recognize the city. Today’s jolts had transformed the skyline into a place she did not know. She told herself that this morning’s tremor was only an aftershock, bringing down structures already weakened, but she knew that this time the earth had been wrenched in a different direction, and with every step she became more aware that what she felt beneath her feet now was not equilibrium, but rather a tenuous balance that at any moment might fail.

The chains that bind the Man with Crossed Hands are breaking…she thought, shivering despite the warmth in the air. One more effort will snap the last of them and he will be free…

The palace was deserted. When they reached her rooms, she saw that both Micail and his bag were gone. He will be waiting for me at the docks, she told herself. Snatching up her own satchel, she followed Damisa back out to the street and started down the hill.

The House of the Healers had collapsed, blocking the road. Tiriki paused, listening, but she heard nothing from within. She hoped that everyone had gotten out safely. Indeed, it was some time since she had seen anybody at all. Obviously, she told herself, the priests and city functionaries who lived and worked here had taken the warning to heart and were already seeking safety on the docks or the hills, but she could not quite suppress the fear that everyone was dead, and that when she and Micail sought Captain Reidel’s ship at last they would find the harbor empty, and have only ghosts for company as they waited for the island to fall.

Guided by Damisa, whose experience as a messenger had taught her the back ways of the upper city, they retraced their steps, turning toward the House of the Priests just up the hill.

As they ascended the Processional Walk, littered with fallen statues and the ruins of archways, Tiriki caught sight of a hurrying figure in sea boots and a brown traveling cloak.

‘Chedan!’ she exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here? Are the priests—’

‘Those holy fools! They claim to command spirits, but they cannot control themselves. Your husband is there now, trying to talk some sense into those who remain. Some have gone down to the ships as they were bid, and others have fled, the gods alone know where. They’re all half-mad, I think, begging him to use his powers to make it stop—’ He shook his head in disgust.

‘But Micail stretched himself to the utmost yesterday, and a little beyond. He can do no more. Can’t they understand?’

‘Can’t, or won’t—’ Chedan shrugged. ‘Frightened men are strangers to reason, but that husband of yours will sort them out. In the meantime, those of us who can still think straight have work to do. And who still survive—’ he added grimly. ‘The man who was to have led the team to load the Omphalos Stone was killed by a falling wall. I told Micail I’d take care of it, but there’s no one left here, or no one that is of any use, anyhow.’

‘There’s us,’ Damisa said stoutly, ‘and the other acolytes will be all right if they have something definite to do!’

For the first time, Chedan smiled. ‘Then lead us, if you can still find your way in this chaos, and let us find them!’

They met Aldel surveying the House of the Healers in disbelief, having found no one to whom he might deliver his message, and Kalaran beside him, clutching an empty sack. Speechless, Tiriki and Damisa returned to the House of the Falling Leaves. Elis and Selast were just inside, packing. Flakes of ash powdered their dark hair.

‘Are you the only ones left here?’ asked Tiriki.

Elis nodded. ‘I hope the others reached the ships safely.’

‘Aldel is waiting outside, and so is Kalaran, so at least you and your betrothed will be together,’ said Tiriki bracingly. ‘And Kalhan is a strong lad,’ she added to Damisa. ‘I’m sure that when we get to the docks he will be waiting for you.’ As Micail will be waiting for me, she added silently.

‘Kalhan? Oh, yes, I’m sure he will…’ Damisa said flatly.

Tiriki looked at her curiously. This was not the first time she had thought that Damisa’s feelings about the boy to whom the Temple astrologers had mated her seemed tepid. Once more she realized how fortunate she and Micail had been when they were allowed to choose for themselves.

‘Will they be enough?’ asked Chedan as Tiriki shepherded the acolytes out the door.

‘They will have to be,’ she answered as a stronger tremor rocked the town. ‘We must go, now!’ As they started down the road two more jolts made them stagger, and behind them they heard a crash as the porch of the House of the Falling Leaves came down.

‘That was a very heavy leaf that just fell!’ said Kalaran, lips twisting as he attempted a smile.

‘That was the whole tree,’ corrected Damisa tartly, but there were tears in her eyes, and she did not look back.

Elis was weeping softly. Selast, who despised such feminine weakness, looked at her in scorn. But all of them kept moving, picking their way around debris, and passing with no more than a sign of blessing when they saw bodies on the road. It was as well that they found no one in need of assistance. That would have put their discipline to too great a test. Indeed, Tiriki thought that if they had found a hurt child she would not have been entirely sure of her own self-control.

That which we seek to save will preserve the lives of generations yet unborn, she told herself, but the old sayings seemed meaningless in the face of the kind of catastrophe they were enduring now. Cinders had begun to fall once more. She flinched and drew her mantle over her head – she had discarded the pillow some time ago – then drew first one deep breath and then another, invoking the trained reflexes that would bring calm. There is no thought…there is no fear…there is only the right moment and the right deed.

With relief, she caught sight of the entrance to the Temple. Only now did she allow herself to look beyond it to the mountain. The pyramid at its top and the priest who kept it had been engulfed long ago. The smoke that billowed from its summit swirled now in a shapeless cloud, but the side of the mountain had opened, and lava was inscribing its own deadly message down the slope in letters of fire.

For a moment she allowed herself to hope that the escape of lava from within the mountain, like the lancing of a boil, would ease the pressure within. But the vibration beneath her feet spoke of unresolved tensions underground that were greater still.

‘Quickly—’ Chedan gestured toward the portico. Its structure still seemed sound, although parts of the marble facings littered the road.

Inside things were less reassuring, but there was no time to wonder how deep the cracks in the walls might run. The cabinet built to carry the Omphalos was waiting in the alcove, and the lamp still swung on its chains. As soon as they had lit the torches they took up the box by the long handles that supported it from the front and back, and hurried the acolytes past the cracked wall of the entry toward the passageway.

To descend that passage in formal procession with the priests and priestesses of Ahtarrath had been an experience to strain the soul. To hasten toward those depths in the company of a gaggle of half-hysterical acolytes was almost more than Tiriki could bear. They feared the unknown, but it was the memory of what had happened here only a few days ago that made her afraid. Seeing her falter, Chedan grasped her arm, and she drew on his steady strength gratefully.

‘Is that lava?’ came a frightened whisper from Elis as they rounded the last turn.

‘No. The Stone is glowing,’ answered Damisa, but her voice was shaking. As well it might, thought Tiriki, following her into the chamber. Vivid illuminations like those the ritual had wakened in the Omphalos were already pulsing in the depths of the Stone. Eerie light and shadows chased each other around the chamber, and each time the earth moved, flashes bounced from wall to wall.

‘How can we touch it without being blasted?’ breathed Kalaran.

‘That’s why we have these wrappings,’ said Chedan, lifting a mass of cloth out of the cabinet and dropping it on the floor. ‘This is silk, and it will insulate the energies of the Stone.’

I hope, Tiriki added silently. But the Omphalos had been carried safely from the Ancient Land, so moving it must be possible.

With their hearts pounding, she and Chedan took the folds of silk and carried them toward the Stone. Closer, its power radiated like a fire, though she felt it neither as heat nor any other sensation for which she had a name. Then the silk fell across it, muting the pressure, and she released a breath she had not known she was holding. They veiled it a second time and she felt her fear ease.

‘Bring the cabinet,’ rasped Chedan. White-faced, Kalaran and Aldel dragged the box up until it was almost touching the Stone and raised the panel on its side. Taking a deep breath, the priest set his hands about the Stone and tipped it in.

Light exploded around them with a force that sent Tiriki sprawling. Damisa grabbed more of the silk wrappings and thrust them into the cabinet around the Stone.

‘Cover it – cover it completely!’ Tiriki struggled to her feet again. Chedan was handing the rest of the silk to Damisa, who rolled it up to push into the corners until the pulsing glow of the Omphalos could no longer be seen.

It could be felt still, but now it was a bearable agony. Unfortunately, without the distraction of the Stone, there was nothing to shield them from the groaning of the rock around them.

‘Pick it up! Aldel and Kalaran, you’re the strongest – take the front handles. Damisa and I will take the rear. The rest of you can keep the way clear and carry the torches. When we get out of here you can take a turn on the handles, but we must go, now!’

As he spoke the floor of the chamber trembled ominously. Tiriki snatched up her torch and hurried after them, realizing that only the presence of the Omphalos had kept it stable for this long!

The bearers staggered and grunted as if their burden were not only immensely heavy, but unstable. Seeing their distress, Elis and Selast set their hands beneath the midpoint of the cabinet and helped to lift it. But as they got farther away from the hidden chamber, the weight seemed to grow less, which was just as well, for with every step their footing was growing more treacherous.

That last jolt had buckled the floor of the passage in several places. Great cracks now showed in the walls, and in places the ceiling was beginning to give way. As they toiled upward they heard the crash of falling rock behind them, a high, discordant keening that seemed to come from all around.

‘My spirit is the spirit of Life; it cannot be destroyed…’ Tiriki chanted, trying to make that awareness replace the dreadful singing of the stones. ‘I am the child of Light, that transcends the Darkness…’ The others joined her, but their words seemed thin and meaningless in this vortex of primordial energies.

‘Hurry—’ Damisa’s voice seemed to come from far away, ‘I can feel another quake coming!’ They could see the pale light of the entryway before them now.

The earth jerked beneath them. With a crash that transcended all previous measures of sound, the left wall caved in.

The sounds of rockfall and the screams that followed now faded as dust billowed outward. Tiriki’s torch had gone out. She coughed, shielding her eyes. When she could see again, the dim illumination from outside showed her the cabinet knocked onto its side and the acolytes climbing to their feet around it.

‘Is everyone all right?’

One by one, voices answered her. The last to reply was Kalaran.

‘A little grazed, but whole. I was on the other side of the cabinet, and its bulk protected me. Aldel—’

There was a shocked silence. Then one of the girls began to sob.

‘Help me get the rubble off him—’ Chedan dropped to his knees, pulling frantically at the lumps of stone and plaster.

‘Damisa, Selast, Elis! Let’s get the cabinet upright and pull it out of the way—’ Tiriki took one handle and heaved. She felt the others take up the weight and they started forward.

‘But Aldel—’ whispered Elis.

‘The others will bring him,’ Tiriki said firmly. ‘Let’s get the cabinet outside.’ The rock groaned and a little more dust sifted down as they dragged the Omphalos out through the portico. Tiriki looked back apprehensively, but in another moment she saw Chedan and Kalaran emerging from the gloom with the body of Aldel in their arms.

‘He’s knocked out, isn’t he?’ stammered Elis, looking from one to the other hopefully. ‘Let me hold him until he revives.’

‘No, Elis, he has been taken from us—’ Chedan said compassionately as they laid the body down. Through the dust they could see the distorted shape of the boy’s skull where the rock had crushed it. ‘It was over in an instant, without pain.’

Elis shook her head, uncomprehending, then knelt, smoothing the dust from her betrothed’s forehead and gazing into his empty eyes. ‘Aldel…come back, beloved. We’re going to escape together – we’ll always be together. You promised me.’

‘He has gone before us, Elis—’ Damisa said with a compassion Tiriki would not have expected. ‘Come now. Come with me.’ She put her arm around the girl and drew her away.

Chedan bent over the still figure and closed Aldel’s eyes, then traced the sigil of unbinding upon his brow. ‘Go in peace, my son,’ he murmured. ‘And in another life may this sacrifice be rewarded.’ He stood and took Elis’s arm.

‘But we can’t – just leave him there,’ said Selast uncertainly.

‘We must,’ answered Tiriki. ‘But the shrine will be a noble tomb.’

She was still speaking when the earth heaved once more and propelled them out through the portico. As they sprawled on the roadway a pillar of fire exploded upward from the mountain and the Shrine of the Omphalos collapsed with a rending roar.

Muscles and balance told Tiriki that they were going downhill as they struggled onward. But that was all she knew for sure. She jumped and nearly dropped the handle of the cabinet that held the Omphalos as the front wall of a house slammed into the street. Beyond it a second building was collapsing with gentle deliberation, as if it were falling asleep. A dark figure emerged from one of the homes, hesitated, and then dashed back into the falling building with a cry.

‘I can smell the harbor,’ gasped Damisa. ‘We’re almost there!’

A breath of moist air blessed Tiriki’s cheeks and brow. Above the crackle of flames and the groans of dying buildings she could hear the almost reassuring sound of human shouts and screams. She had begun to fear they were the only ones left alive on the isle.

And now they could see the water and the masts that tossed in the harbor. Boats bounded across the dark waters, heading out to sea. Two wingbirds had collided and were sinking in a tangled mass while bobbing figures swam for the shore. As they hurried forward the ground shook as if to propel them on their way. Rocks tumbled from the cliffs and splashed into the bay.

‘There’s the Crimson Serpent!’ cried Selast. The lines that held it to the stanchions on the dock were still fast, and young Captain Reidel stood poised at the stern, shading his eyes with one hand.

Micail – where are you! Tiriki sent her spirit winging forward.

‘My lady, thank the gods!’ called Reidel. He jumped to the dock and caught her as she swayed. Before she could protest, strong arms were swinging her onto the deck. ‘All of you get on board, fast as you can!’

‘Someone, take the box,’ Chedan commanded.

‘Yes, yes, but hurry—’ Reidel reached out to give Damisa a hand, but the girl pulled away.

‘I’m supposed to be on Tjalan’s ship!’

‘It would seem not!’ Reidel answered. ‘The Alkonath fleet was anchored in the other harbor – and everything between here and there is in flames.’ He gestured, and one of the sailors picked the girl up bodily and tossed her into his arms.

Tiriki struggled to her feet, trying to make sense of the confusion of people, bags, and boxes. She recognized the seeress Alyssa huddled in the healer Liala’s arms, and Iriel.

‘Where’s Micail?’

‘Haven’t seen him,’ answered Reidel, ‘nor Galara. We can’t wait for them, my lady. If the headland collapses we’ll be trapped here!’ He turned and began shouting commands. Sailors began to unwind the lines that held the ship to the harbor.

‘Stop!’ cried Tiriki. ‘You can’t leave yet – he will come!’ She had been so certain he would be waiting for her, frantic at her delay, and now she was the one who must fear.

‘There are forty souls on this ship whom I must save!’ exclaimed Reidel. ‘We’ve already delayed too long!’ He grabbed a pole and pushed them away from the dock as the last sailor leaped on board.

The third great tower, the one that watched over the palace, was falling slowly, as if time itself were reluctant to let it go. Then, with a roar that obliterated all other sounds, it disappeared. Debris exploded into the sky and burst into flame.

Reidel’s ship lifted and fell as the shock wave passed beneath it. Another craft, still tethered, crashed into the dock. The oarsmen heaved and struggled to pull the ship through the debris that bobbed on the dark waters.

Above, the sky boiled in a vortex of flame and shadow and fire fell back upon the already burning city in a hail of indescribable destruction. Damisa was weeping. One of the sailors swore in a murmur of meaningless sound. They had already come far enough that the figures who were casting themselves into the water were silhouettes without faces or names. Micail was not among them – Tiriki would have known if he were that near.

They were passing beneath the cliff now. A boulder splashed down before the bow and the deck canted over, sending Tiriki sprawling into Chedan. He hooked one arm around her and the other around the mast as the ship righted itself and leaped forward.

‘Micail will be on one of the other ships,’ murmured Chedan. ‘He will survive – that too is part of the prophecy.’

Through eyes that blurred with tears Tiriki stared at the funeral pyre that had been her home. The motion of the ship grew more lively as the sails filled, carrying them out to sea.

Black smoke billowed up as the volcano spoke once more, blotting out the sky. In the moment before everything went dark, Tiriki saw the tremendous image of the Man with Crossed Hands, covering the sky.

And Dyaus laughed and stretched out his arms to engulf the world.