The cataclysm

'Captain.'

Dunvane opened his eyes. Norry stood before him. 'We're with you, sir,' the mate said. 'Me and the men, we don't want to die, but we're scared. What's happened, Captain? Who were all those people?'

'Pirates,' said Imkhian, looming in the doorway to his cabin. 'Thieves.'

'Your pardon, Holy One, but those were ordinary townsfolk, not even sailors, by the look of their pale skin,' Dunvane replied.

'Could they be? Could the woman be telling the truth?' Norry asked slowly. 'Were those the people of Gardenath?'

'You're speaking blasphemy,' warned the priest.

Still sobbing, Jermina cried, 'Since when is the truth a blasphemy?'

'Enough,' Dunvane barked. The sullen sky was darkening to purple as the sun began to set. 'If there is a coast to find, it's got to be south. Norry, you and the men work on rigging a trysail on the foremast. Once it's done, maybe we can steer ourselves out of this current.'

The sailors dispersed to their tasks. The woman, Jermina, went forward to sleep in the shadows on the foredeck. Imkhian began to speak of faith and trust in the gods, and faith in the goodness and power of the Kingpriest. After a few minutes, the priest realized no one was heeding him. Scowling, he withdrew in offended dignity back to his cabin.

A wind sprang up before midnight. The breeze scoured the smoke and clouds away, and stars glittered overhead. Dunvane called for his quadrant. He shot the stars and called out their positions to Norry, who scratched figures on a wax tablet.

'Something's not right.about these figures, Captain,' Norry muttered. He chewed the blunt end of his wooden stylus. 'We're nowhere near where we should be.'

Dunvane sent below for a chart of the Istar coast. By lantern light, he compared the figures he'd just taken to the ones given on the parchment scroll. His jaw dropped in astonishment. He shot the stars again, with the same result. The heavens did not lie. He stabbed his knife into the map at their position. 'We're a hundred miles from the Istar coast,' said Dunvane. 'A hundred miles inland of the coastline!'

'The woman's right,' said Norry grimly. 'The land's gone under the sea. What do we do now, sir?'

Dunvane snatched up lantern, knife, and chart. 'The Revered Son must see this.' He burst into the priest's cabin without knocking. Imkhian stirred sleepily in his berth.

'What's the meaning of this disturbance?' he asked sternly.

'I have important news, Holy One,' Dunvane replied.

'We have reached Istar?' Imkhian sat up. 'The Kingpriest will be very pleased! We're a day early — '

'We're in Istar all right, Revered Son, but Istar is not here.'

'Did you wake me to ply me with riddles?'

Dunvane spread the map on the table and set the lamp on it. 'By the stars of heaven, which I shot not five minutes ago, I got this as our position.' He pointed to the hole in the chart made by his knife point. Imkhian bent over to study the map.

'You've simply made an error — '

'I shot our position twice, Holy One,' the captain interrupted. 'The woman was right. What we took for a tempest was some kind of great upheaval. There's no way of knowing how far the destruction spreads.'

Imkhian straightened. He ran his fingers through his mussed hair and tugged his wrinkled robe into a semblance of order. 'I am certain the city of Istar is safe, Captain. The Kingpriest's power is proof against any catastrophe or evil magic.'

Imkhian's voice was strong, positive, calm. But this time, the captain's fears were not stilled. The two men stared at each other for a long minute.

'I hope you're right, Revered Son,' said Dunvane at last. He rolled up his chart. 'I'd best take the wheel. We're in unknown waters now, and a captain's place is at the helm.'

He turned to go, but Imkhian caught his arm. 'Leave the lantern,' he said. 'I wish to pray.'

Dunvane pulled the cabin door shut quietly. Norry came up behind him.

'The trysail's been rigged, sir,' he reported, 'and we've spotted lightning. Looks to be a terrible storm, dead ahead.'

What else could happen? Dunvane sighed and followed his mate to the wheel. A red glow lit up the horizon, too early and too easterly to be the dawn. 'What is that?' asked the captain, staring.

'Dunno, sir. Could be a ship on fire.'

Dunvane squinted through the tangle of rigging, masts, and the billowing trysail. 'If so, it's a big one,' he muttered.

'Aye.'

Lightning flickered around the scarlet glow. An uncommonly warm wind blew over them; patches of mist rose from the cooling sea. They could hear the sound of thunder. The previously calm sea was roughened by rising swells. The Sunchaser wallowed in the waves. The motion roused Jernina, who came aft to see what was going on.

'What's that light?' she asked, clutching at the binnacle for support.

Before anyone could reply, Imkhian, white robe flapping in the increasingly hot wind, appeared like a pale ghost at the captain's elbow.

'Let the gods steer your ship, Captain,' he commanded. 'We are in their hands now.'

'Every sailor is in the hands of the gods,' Dunvane said, 'but my hands stay on this wheel, Holy One.'

A thunderclap was punctuated by a stinging hail of dust. The wind crackled the frail trysail. The ship glided along with the speeding current. The dust storm passed quickly, replaced by a steady blast of furnace-hot air. The sailors and Jermina coughed and covered their faces. Dunvane blinked through the grit lodged in his eyes and stared at the rapidly brightening red glow. It soon filled the sky from port to starboard. From its midst rose a column of smoke, reaching from the sea surface up to the sky, where it spread into a flat-topped cloud.

'The whole world's on fire!' Norry gasped.

'The water's starting to seethe like a soup kettle,' cried the lookout.

Dunvane stared over the bow. Steam rose from the sea. The water was the color of blood. 'I'm putting about,' Dunvane said and tried to put the helm over to starboard.

Imkhian's long white fingers gripped the wheel. 'Go forward, Captain. In my prayers I was given to know that we must seek out the fire, not hide from it. Fire purifies all it touches. The gods will protect us.'

The priest's voice was calm, his gaze fixed upon the crimson glow before them.

Dunvane shook his head. 'We must turn away, Revered Son. The ship would go up like a torch.'

The priest made his way past the sailors and stood by the rail. His gaze roved around the spectacle before them, the unknown red light, the pillar of smoke, the steaming, blood-red water. He turned abruptly, his eyes blazing. 'Keep going!'

Lightning flickered overhead as the hot, glowing column of smoke closed out the last bit of night. The red glow lit them like a bloody sunrise. Dunvane spun the wheel left and right, but the Sunchaser could not break out of the rushing stream that propelled it.

'It doesn't look as if we've got much choice,' Dunvane said bitterly. Norry and the other two crewmen began to fidget and cast anxious looks at the churning sea.

Something boomed against the hull. A sailor bent over the side and sang out, 'Timbers! There's timbers in the water! Heading straight for us!'

Unable to steer, Dunvane could do nothing. Massive building timbers rammed into the SUNCHASER. Dunvane held grimly to the wheel. The ship rolled and pitched and they were still being drawn toward the great shaft of smoke, fire and lightning.

'Have no fear!' called Imkhian above the thunder and booming waves. 'We are being tested! We must not be afraid! Istar lies beyond the wall of fire; we must penetrate the wall!' The priest knelt by the great serpentine bowl, clinging to its smooth surface.

Norry staggered across the canted deck. 'Captain! What can we do?'

A bolt of lightning struck the mainmast. The foot-thick oak mast splintered down its length, and the heavy crossyard crashed to the deck, knocking Dunvane back from the wheel. He hit the sterncastle and slid down,