The apprentice rang the bell, clearly relieved that his master had taken over. In a flurry of stamping feet the rest of the crew came pouring up on to the deck. ‘Man the lines!’ Levin shouted.
Havvin pushed the tiller arm over. ‘Have to lose headway, don’t you think?’ he directed his apprentice.
The lad nodded frantic assent, shouted: ‘Reef the mains’l! Lower the fores’l!’
Ghelath watched silently, one fist closed on his ragged beard. After a moment he caught the old pilot’s eye and pointed to the bow. Havvin nodded a brief acknowledgement.
Blues came up to the stern deck to stand next to Shimmer. He too was peering off over the side, to the glow of the distant bonfire.
‘Eyes up front, don’t you think, Levin?’ Havvin murmured, adjusting the tiller arm slightly.
The lad swallowed, nodding. ‘Aye. Four lookouts on the bows!’
Shimmer leaned close to Gwynn. ‘Black flames?’ she murmured.
He shrugged. ‘Thought it would be impressive.’
Ghelath shook his head. ‘I still don’t like it, Havvin. Lose all the canvas. Prepare the sweeps.’
Havvin nodded. ‘Aye, aye.’ He gestured to Levin.
The lad drew a great breath, shouted, ‘Lower the yardarm! Un-ship the sweeps!’
The crew scrambled to obey. The heavy yardarm scraped down the mainmast. Long thin oars that had been stored along the hull, just above the decking, were set into holes beneath the top railing.
‘Man the sweeps,’ Blues called down to Bars, who gave his curt assent and gestured to the gathered Avowed. They brushed the sailors aside to take the oars.
‘Dead stop,’ Shimmer called.
The Avowed levered the oars straight down then swept them back, grunting and heaving. The vessel slowed so suddenly that Shimmer had to take a step for balance against the loss of motion. The Master’s thick matted brows shot up in amazement and wonder. Havvin hooted his laughter.
All became quiet but for the splash of the waves, and, distantly, the roar of an unseen surf.
‘Ahead slow,’ the Master called, then cocked an eye to Shimmer, who motioned for him to take over.
Blues crossed to Havvin, who was pushing and heaving on the thick tiller arm. ‘Need any help, old timer?’
‘Nay. A gentle touch is all’s needed. Like caressing a woman.’
Blues shot an amused glance to Shimmer, who suppressed a smile. ‘We’re in good hands then,’ Blues supplied.
‘Oh, I could tell stories,’ Havvin answered, and he cackled his mad laughter once again.
‘Point starboard!’ a lookout called.
The lashing of the tiller arm creaked as Havvin edged it a touch over. The Master still held his beard in one fist, and now he reached out and clenched the stern deck railing in a grip so tight and white it looked to Shimmer as if not even the strongest impact could dislodge him.
Yells of surprise and horror suddenly went up as something immense and night-black loomed out of the murk. One of the soldiers this was, pillar of rock all webbed in spray, seaweed and barnacles where it met the waves. Its top stood too tall to see and its girth was a third of their vessel’s length.
Levin turned to cast an appalled look to his master, who merely smiled his mad grin, then shot Shimmer another wink. Calls sounded from the lookouts and she spun: the bonfire had come once more into view.
‘Lower the launch!’ Master Ghelath shouted.
‘Get us closer,’ Shimmer called.
‘Close enough!’ he answered, fierce. ‘I’ll not risk everyone for this.’
Shimmer had to acknowledge something of the soundness of that and so with her teeth clenched tight she sent a curt nod to Bars.
Bars grasped a sailor by the nape of his neck to set him on to his oar, then ran to where sailors were readying the long slender launch. He called out names to accompany him as he went.
Mael’s Greetings slowly edged closer to the pillars emerging in ever denser numbers from the waves. The sight reminded Shimmer of descriptions of the dolmens of Tien, except that those were carved and built by humans. This formation was so immense, and appeared to be rooted so far below the ocean, it could only be the work of the gods, or of nature itself.
Some of the pillars were quite short, hardly topping the surf, and were washed by the larger breakers. It was on one of these short pillars, standing just above the waves, that the bonfire blazed.
As Mael’s Greetings drifted, a figure came into view standing before the licking flames of the fire. A tall thin human shape, motionless, waiting, and Shimmer felt a shiver of recognition run through her. He’d come. At the last possible place he’d found a way to meet them. K’azz. She was certain.
Rowed by six Avowed, including Bars, the launch surged through the waves and onward into the dark.
‘Turn us away a touch, Master Havvin,’ Ghelath murmured.
‘You worry too much,’ the old man grumbled, but he obeyed. The bowsprit began to edge to the north. They waited. The vessel rocked strongly in the rough seas. The surf roared loudly now, all the more terrifying as it was unseen but for the greenish phosphor glow where the waves crashed and foamed against the base of the cliffs.
‘Put up some sail,’ Master Ghelath ordered. ‘We need headway or we’ll swamp.’
‘Very well,’ Havvin answered, and raised his chin to Levin. The lad cupped his hands to his mouth.
‘Raise the fores’l!’
The triangular foresail edged up and billowed, catching the wind, and the bows pulled over even further. Master Ghelath leaned forward over the stern deck rail. ‘Row, damn you!’
The Avowed, who had paused to watch for the launch’s return, started guiltily and heaved on the oars. Next to Shimmer, Blues chuckled. ‘Can’t let them forget that,’ he murmured.
She squinted off over the stern. ‘We’re not making too much headway, are we?’
‘They’ll catch up,’ he assured her. ‘Or break their oars trying.’
After a time a long low shape detached itself from the dark blue gloom of the waves. Sailors hailed the launch and threw lines. Shimmer went to the side. A rope ladder was heaved over. Sitting amid the Avowed, dressed in old ragged travelling leathers, was K’azz. Catching her gaze, he offered a rueful half-smile, as if mocking himself, and saluted her.
She just shook her head.
When all were aboard, and the launch stored away atop the deck, Shimmer faced her commander. He looked travel-worn but hale — as hale as the man ever appeared now. His thin greying hair blew about his skull, the shape of which showed through. ‘What were you thinking?’ she accused him.
‘You’re going,’ he said, and he peered about at the gathered Avowed.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘No matter what. We must.’
‘No matter what,’ he echoed, slowly nodding. ‘Yes. Well. I wish you hadn’t. But I should have known you’d call my bluff, Shimmer.’ And he inclined his head, acknowledging his defeat, and turned to take Bars’ hand before moving on to greet all.
Blues edged close to Shimmer and the two watched their commander speaking with each Avowed. ‘He really didn’t want us to go,’ he murmured.
‘Yes.’
‘That makes me wonder, then,’ he said, ‘just what it is that awaits us.’
Shimmer had been thinking the same thing. What could be so terrifying, or dangerous? Then the name of the rocks where K’azz had been awaiting them came to her: the Cape of the Stone Army. Also known as the Cursed Soldiers.
She closed her eyes against the night and sent a prayer to Burn: dear ancient one, please let this not be an omen you send us. If these stone soldiers be cursed, then let that be the end of your anger. Send no doom upon us. In answer to your forbearance, I offer my dream. The wish I have held within my heart all these years. It I would sacrifice to you. A future for a future. This is my pledge.