Corthie crouched down, and Van swore a few times, then clambered onto his back. Corthie straightened his legs, pulling on his battle-vision to steady himself. He glanced up the street, and began to run, his boots splashing through the dank, cold and filthy water. It got easier with every step, as the water continued to drain away, and after a few hundred yards, he was running over a paved surface that was quickly drying out in the harsh sunlight. They passed another boat – a small fishing vessel – that appeared almost intact as it sat upon a hill made of debris. The street began to fill with the living, as civilians roamed, looking for survivors, or mourning their losses. A rumble vibrated behind them, and Corthie turned to glance towards the west.
Another wave was coming, its high ridge glistening in the sunlight. If anything, it was even taller than the first wave, and the civilians started to scream and run. Corthie joined them, Van upon his back, as they jostled and stampeded eastward. The screams and the roar of the wave overtook his senses. Civilians fell to the ground and were abandoned where they lay, while others were crushed in the press.
The ground rumbled beneath them, and tiles began to rain down from the buildings on either side of the street, striking the civilians trying to run from the approaching second wave. A rift opened up in the surface of the road, then widened, and people tumbled in, screaming. The front of a building collapsed, sliding down and disappearing into the rift, leaving dozens of rooms open to the air. Corthie came to a halt, unable to move in any direction.
‘We need to get higher,’ Van shouted, ‘and then take cover.’
Corthie nodded, and shoved through the crowds, heading towards a tall stone tower that sat twenty yards away. The rift had split the mass of civilians in two, and those on the side closest to the approaching wave were screaming in fright as the wall of water got nearer while, on the safer side, the crowd was starting to thin as people bolted in the opposite direction.
Corthie kicked down the door and entered the tower. The interior was wet, and debris was strewn across the floor. He ran to the stairs, Van clinging to his back, and powered up the steps, his legs moving as quickly as he was able. Round and round they went, climbing higher with every moment. The tower shook as the wave hit it, and water began pouring in through every window, and great torrents landed on Corthie from above. He closed his eyes and kept going, step after step. The water level rose until they were submerged, and still Corthie kept on, his limbs exhausted as he struggled through the cold darkness, his breath held. They reached a level with an air pocket, and Van’s head broke through the water, then Corthie pulled himself up, filling his aching lungs with air. The sound was tremendous, and his ears rang. A body bumped up against them in the semi-darkness, the floating corpse of a boy, his face contorted with panic and pain. Corthie glanced away. Van was shivering above him, his teeth chattering in the intense cold.
‘We’re going to make it,’ said Corthie. ‘Don’t give up.’
The water level started to rise again, and Corthie took a deep breath and headed back to the stairs. Every stride took all of his strength as he climbed the steps one after the other, and his lungs felt like they were burning. Their heads broke through the surface of the water again, and Corthie realised that it was receding as quickly as it had risen. He collapsed onto the steps, and Van slipped down off his back. They lay there for a while, panting in the dark stairwell as the water reached their knees, then their feet.
‘There will be more waves coming,’ gasped Van, ‘and more earthquakes.’
‘We managed to get half a mile in between the first two,’ said Corthie. ‘We have to keep going.’
‘You’re insane,’ said Van. ‘By the end of today, there will be no city left.’
‘Old Alea will still be there,’ Corthie said. ‘I bet the gods and the Ascendants are watching from the battlements, laughing at the mortals as they drown. We might die here, but we’ll take down at least one of them first.’ He stood, and glanced down the stairs. ‘Come on; we’ll follow the water as it recedes, and then run again.’
Van looked at him in disbelief. ‘You can still run after that?’
‘My battle-vision will last the day, and by tomorrow, it probably won’t matter.’
They staggered back down the steps, watching as the water drained away before them. They emerged back out onto the devastated street. Huge quantities of water were falling into the giant rift that split the road in two. Another rumble disturbed the ground, sending more fragments of timber, tiles and masonry down into the street, where they joined the piles of bodies and debris in the ankle-deep water. Van climbed back onto Corthie’s shoulder, and they set off, Corthie’s boots splashing as he ran. The ground started to climb slightly, and the surface dried out again. Corthie turned a corner, and ran into a horse that was galloping wildly towards them, riderless. Van went flying from his shoulders as Corthie stumbled. The horse reared in front of him, and Corthie grabbed the dangling reins. He laughed, his nerves stretched and taut. A horse. Of all the things he could have wished for.
With one hand gripping the reins, he put a foot in the stirrups and swung himself up into the saddle. The horse reared again, and Corthie tugged on the reins, bringing the brown gelding under control.
‘You’re safe now,’ Corthie whispered, as he stroked the side of the gelding’s head; ‘you’re safe. Van! Get up here.’
Van groaned from the ground, and pulled himself
