“This maneuver will need some tricky flying to prevent the ships from colliding,” she added, “but I think that the acolytes can handle it. Tell them to consider it their final test. When we drop anchor, they are to do the same.”
“As you wish, Captain,” Traax answered. He turned on his boot heels and hurried off.
Tyranny turned back to Adrian. “You may start your descent,” she ordered. “Take us down slow and level.”
“Aye,” the First Sister replied. “Slow and level as she goes.”
Adrian altered her hold over the craft and theTammerland started a slow vertical descent. The First Sister kept the ship perfectly level, so that the entire length of her keel would touch the water at once and keep the ship from heeling over.
Tyranny looked at the sky. The sun had finally risen in earnest, and it would soon start burning away the fog. Until now theTammerland had been flying in the clear, but she would soon enter the fog bank below.
Like Scars, Tyranny guessed that the fog did not reach all the way to the sea and that they would soon break clear. Even if they were wrong, at this slow rate of descent theTammerland ’s landing might be blind, but it would be gentle. The privateer glanced again to starboard to confirm that the other three ships were following theTammerland ’s lead.
Soon the great ship entered the dense fog. As the fog crept higher it engulfed the hull, then the topside, and finally the masts, furled sails, and spars. The fog soon grew so thick that Tyranny lost sight of the other three ships, causing her concern. Perhaps I place too much confidence in the acolytes’ abilities, she worried. Then she heard Minion voices hauntingly calling out in the gloom. For the benefit of the four acolytes, they were announcing the distances between the vessels. That must have been Traax’s idea, she thought, and it was a good one.
As theTammerland descended, Tyranny, Adrian, and Scars grabbed hold of some nearby rigging to steady themselves. More tense seconds ticked by. Without warning, the great vessel hit the waves. She listed hard to port for a moment before settling down. Soon they heard the other three Black Ships splash down, and it was over.
As theTammerland started to drift, Tyranny turned to Scars. “Drop anchor!” she shouted. Scars immediately ran to carry out her order.
Soon the two women heard the anchor chain rattling across the foredeck, and the anchor splashed into the sea. TheTammerland swiveled hard to port before settling down again. Then she tugged hard on her chain, digging the anchor blade deep into the sea floor.
Exhausted, Adrian closed her eyes and let go a deep breath. She had no doubt that her sister acolytes were equally spent.
“Well done,” Tyranny said. “You have earned a well-deserved rest.”
Just then Traax and Scars reappeared. “The other three ships are successfully moored,” he said, “and they are far enough apart so that they will not strike each other as they turn in the wind. Shall we take our first sounding, raise theTammerland ’s anchor, and head for shore?”
Before answering, Tyranny turned and gazed westward. She smiled.
“That won’t be needed,” she answered.
The others turned to look. The fog was slowly parting. As it did, shafts of golden sunlight streamed down here and there from the sky above, spotlighting the ships and the waves. It was a welcome sight. Tyranny saw that the coastline was starting to appear. Raising her spyglass again, she turned its lenses to the west.
The fleet was moored about a hundred meters from shore. She could see the lush foliage of the delta and one of the three major tributaries that poured the Sippora River’s fresh water into the sea. Several fishing villages clung to the delta coast, one of which lay dead ahead. Birmingham, she realized.
Then she saw something odd on the rocky beach, and she froze. Hurrying forward, Tyranny leaned hard against the gunwale and again raised her spyglass. At first she refused to believe her eyes. But as she looked further, the terrible reality sank in. She slowly lowered the glass.
“I beg the Afterlife,” she whispered, her face contorting in cold rage.
Of her three officers, Scars knew Tyranny best. Even so, he had rarely seen such a look overtake his captain’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously.
Tyranny quickly beckoned them all forward. Reaching out, she took Traax by his shoulders and pulled his face to within inches of hers.
“Save for a skeleton crew left aboard each Black Ship, I want every warrior armed and aloft this instant!” she ordered. “Have them circle above until I order differently! I want my litter made ready, and bring the other three acolytes here immediately! We’re all flying ashore!” Traax clicked his heels and was gone in an instant.
Scars gave Tyranny another questioning look. The privateer’s only response was to remove the spyglass strap from around her neck and thrust the scope into Scar’s beefy hands. The first mate raised the glass and turned it toward the coast. After a time, he swallowed hard.
“Tyranny…” Adrian breathed. “What’s going on?”
The hard-nosed privateer reached for her gold case. After stabbing another cigarillo between her lips and lighting it, she finally answered the acolyte.
“I suggest that you employ the craft and look for yourself,” she growled.
Adrian hurried to the gunwale. As he looked toward the coast, Scars stood stock-still beside her like some great marble statue. Calling on the craft, Adrian augmented her eyesight and looked westward.
Like Scars and Tyranny, the acolyte had already experienced much during her relatively short life. But what she saw this day froze the blood in her veins.
CHAPTER X
WITH EVERY STEP GRACCHUS TOOK, HIS CONCERN mounted. The Oraculum had reached out to touch his mind less than one hour ago, and he feared that her latest vision might be disturbing. The war plan to take the Shashidan gold mines was nearly ready to submit to the Suffragat, and he had worked, schemed, and killed for far too long to let his dream die now. With one hand gripping the opposite shoulder of his white and burgundy robe, he hurried on.
The subterranean hallway he trod was dank and mildewed. Wall torches, enchanted to burn forever and without smoke, showed the way and lent the twisting passageway a haunted feel. Specially chosen centurions sworn to secrecy on penalty of death stood guard at every turn. As the leadPon Q’tar cleric hurried by, they snapped to swift attention.
The secret hallway that Gracchus navigated lay far below Ellistium. Aside from the guards, only thePon Q’tar and the Suffragat knew of its existence. Aeons ago, after selecting the site for the new capital city, thePon Q’tar had secretly built this subterranean labyrinth. It had come into being while the magnificent capital had risen so many meters above it.
Gracchus soon came to a large square room built from cut stones. Before him lay a granite landing that overlooked a wide subterranean lake. More torches burned in iron wall brackets. The lake was dark, dirty, and deathly still. Three more centurions stood guard there. As they came to attention, Gracchus hurried to the edge of the landing.
“Bring me the boat,” he ordered.
At once a centurion saluted, then walked to the far end of the room. Reaching down, he untied the line that secured a common wooden rowboat to the landing. He towed the boat to a place before the lead cleric.
Gracchus walked down a short series of steps cut into the landing and climbed into the boat. The centurion tossed the line into the boat, setting it free. Gracchus took up a wooden staff from the bottom of the boat and started to pole his way across the dank lake.
As he went, here and there the putrid water rippled ominously. Good, he thought. The deadly creatures that he and his fellowPon Q’tar members had conjured so long ago to protect what lay on the other side still lived. So far, their savagery had not been needed. Still, he was glad to know that they were there, constantly searching the water for intruders.
The boat trip would not take long. He knew the way well, for he had come here thousands of times before.
