wealthy backgrounds — lords and ladies, retired military officials, landowners — all reduced to poverty; the poor, trained by years in the caves, helped them out with advice on ways of looking after themselves. It was, Fulcrom had to admit, immensely touching.
Occasionally something might fly overhead, too quickly for him to discern, but it was enough to cause panic on the ground. Enormous gouts of people would surge towards the woodlands or throw themselves in soft snow, and all that happened was that more people would suffer from frostbite or pneumonia. And each day, a few more people would die.
Eventually, after many days trudging across the wilderness, two outriders returned to the convoy and brought their horses in alongside Fulcrom. A man and his daughter, both well-built individuals, were protected by wax raincapes and woollen hats.
‘The coast, investigator, it’s the coast,’ the woman said. ‘It’s within reach. We’ll make it before sunrise if we continue straight on through the night.’
‘If we take rest it will be well into the next day,’ Fulcrom called. ‘That means we’ll be exposed to attack for longer. We’ve been OK the last two nights, but I don’t want to risk anything — we should expect an assault.’
‘People are tired, investigator,’ the man grunted. ‘Should let ’em get some rest.’
Fulcrom shook his head. ‘Many have been on transport, and of course they’ll be fine through the night. But the others will have to manage. I don’t want to risk the sky-city catching up with us. We’ve gone two nights without an attack, without any sightings. I’m not a paranoid man, outrider, but I think it pays to be cautious. Could you live with the guilt otherwise?’
‘No, no,’ the man said. ‘My apologies.’
He watched the two outriders turn and ride into the distance before disappearing into a dark forest. Soon it began to snow — yet again. Within the walls of the city it never seemed so bad; out here, each fat flake seemed to press against his face with greater intensity.
The next hour was slow going. The dirt road crossed increasingly boggy terrain before leading them uphill. Fulcrom remained mightily unimpressed with this route.
‘This hill goes on forever,’ Lan mumbled from behind, squeezing her arms tighter as if to prompt him into speaking.
‘Sorry,’ Fulcrom replied glumly. ‘It’s the only route we can take. It’s the most direct way to the coast. It’s all we can do.’
‘I wasn’t complaining about your navigational skills, I was just saying,’ Lan replied. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I just wish we could hurry, but we can’t force people to go any faster. I want to get to the top of that hill as much as you do.’
‘Will we see the coast when we’re up there?’ Lan wondered.
‘I very much hope so,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘We should be able to see in every direction from the top, and maybe see how far behind they are, and if any more are on the ground.’
They went on horseback alongside the lead land-vehicle’s front wheels, and far enough away so that the horse’s immense hooves would not crush them.
The convoy then moved through a landscape littered with spindly bushes and the occasional deep pool, which people stumbled into by accident. He pitied those that did, and pitied himself that he could not help everyone. There were thousands of people behind him; how could he choose to divert medical attention to everyone who stumbled or caught frostbite?
These must be the decisions of a god, something he did not feel comfortable with. Besides, one god-like figure among them seemed enough. Frater Mercury, the being who had been brought through to this world, seemed more like a statue than a god, as he perched on the lead horse. The figure simply stood regarding the vista: it must have been quite a view up there.
Upwards, slowly upwards.
Low clouds vanished leaving white wisps that trailed into the distance. Sunlight materialized, bright red and disarmingly warm at times. The crest of the hill was nearby, and Fulcrom decided to break free from his position and gallop towards it. Wind lashed his face, but he desperately wanted to get there. It seemed more important than anything.
The horizon lurched into view suddenly, the sky seemed brighter. .
‘We made it,’ Lan said. ‘We did it.’
Eventually, the hill flattened out to a plateau; the wind picked up even more, but this time it came with a heavy coastal tang of seaweed or salty air. Down below, perhaps a good mile away from where they were standing, the sea met the rocky shore. The surf was lively; great white waves licked their way towards land. For some distance there was nothing to see except for an old military fortification or two, which might provide some shelter for those who needed it the most, and several vast, still rock pools. Birds were hovering on wind currents above the sea, in the deep distance. On the downward slope there was more grass poking up beneath the melting snow, perhaps brought by warmer currents, but it was enough to make him hope the supposedly decades-long freeze might come to a premature end.
‘What next?’ Lan asked.
Fulcrom took another deep breath of the coastal air, clearing his mind. ‘Well, I say we head down to the shore, then see about whether or not the land-vehicles can become sea-vehicles. As for the rest — we can either hope for more help from Frater Mercury, or we can scour the coastline for old sailing vessels. None of the outriders has found anything for us yet, but I’ve not given up hope. We really must set sail as soon as possible. We must.’
Turning his horse, Fulcrom examined the scene behind.
The closest it had been yet, the sky-city was a dark blot on the western horizon. It must have been just two or three miles from them at the most now, and from this new viewpoint its hideous glory was exposed to its fullest.
Twice the size of before, the thing seemed born from a baroque nightmare: loosely adhering to the shape of a sphere, it was as if a moon had made itself present just above the ground. Vast spiked pillars stuck out into the air around it and around them tiny black dots flew in slow circles — Fulcrom dreaded to think what they might be. Other structures appeared to be ribbed, or ribs themselves partially absorbed into the surface. There were glossy, bulbous things, and the shadows of grid-like rows, perhaps resembling some strange roads or streets. There were irregular flashes of light coming from within these hollows, containing explosions that defied logical thought. The sky itself appeared to veer away from its presence; instead of blue sky perfectly meeting its edges, there was a darker colour, smears and stains that were perhaps emissions from the city itself.
This thing — this monstrous city — had pursued them across an island, depositing bizarre life forms to attempt to murder those it had not slaughtered already. Fulcrom was not in awe of it any longer — he was furious at what it had done.
Beneath it, the tide of refugees flowed towards him, up the slope. The immense horses that pulled the land- vehicles came first, and he could see the vast grooves the wooden wheels had left across the distant landscape. Even if their progress had been swifter, they weren’t exactly difficult to follow.
‘We’ve made it this far,’ he said, ‘we’ve come so close.’
‘It’s not over yet though,’ Lan said. That fierce determination had set in her eyes once again, filling him with positivity.
‘I’m scared, Lan. I seem to have become the centre of this.’ He gestured towards the refugees. ‘This isn’t what I’m used to.’
‘It’s not what any of us are used to.’
‘You’re right,’ he replied. ‘It’s just. . what if we don’t make it? If we get away from here, then what if we perish on the seas?’
‘Then we perish knowing we damn well tried. The only other option is staying and certainly dying here, on land. We’ve come too far to do that. I refuse to, in fact. Now come on, let’s-’ Lan jerked her gaze away at the sound.
