“That's the Gel-Alhak, the White Tower of Sinalth,” said Althak. “It was built by Sinalth after the invasion to warn of any further invasions from the north.”
“And also as a guide for ships,” said Shelim who was not far away as Awan steadied their course towards the distant tower.
“Atonir lies beneath it?”
“No, further down the coast, another day or so.”
As Azkun watched it draw closer he realised that the tower was taller than he had first thought. The sun peered through the clouds and shone brightly on it. The last work of stone he had seen was the inn at Lianar and before that the bridge of Sheagil. This was much larger than either, though not so impossible in its construction as the bridge. It seemed to Azkun to be a welcome to this land, he felt that he walked in the purpose of the dragons.
At the base of the tower lay a harbour and a town. Ships much like their own lay moored beside stone piers like the one at Lianar. Several were sailing in and out of the harbour. They could see men scurrying about the boats, loading and unloading cargo, and carts and horses lined up on the piers.
“M’Lord is wondering whether to disembark here and ride horses to Atonir or to take advantage of the fair wind. The sea is calm enough now, so they are no longer suffering much from the sea retch. Either way we will reach Atonir tomorrow.”
After a talk with Awan it was decided to continue south by ship, which pleased the sailors; they did not want to lose Azkun. The ship turned parallel to the coast and Gel-Alhak began to recede behind them. A low wall of dunes swept up from the surf-washed beaches and parted occasionally to give them glimpses of worked fields. The land was flat near the coast, rising to low hills in the distance. Often a wide river mouth broke the wall of dunes, and in such places there were more towns and villages, though none the size of Gel-Alhak. Althak explained that the rivers they were seeing were, in fact, all one river. They were sailing across the many mouths of the great Goshar River that wound right across Relanor.
“This was how Gilish himself first saw Relanor,” put in Hrangil when he heard them talking of the river. “He first landed at the mouths of the Goshar with his heavenly armies.”
That night, after they had eaten and the lamps were lit, Keashil played her harp again. She sang of Atonir, their destination, and told the tale of its building. Even Tenari turned her head from Azkun and watched her play.
When Gilish landed at the mouths of the Goshar he was threatened by attacks from the Monnar, the race of magicians who held Relanor in their evil power. He needed a strong place he could defend from them. So he set about constructing the great palace of Atonir. Using his own magic he built it in a day and a night, and it had stood for nearly a thousand years. Needless to say the Monnar were never able to scale the vast walls of the palace, and they were eventually defeated before those walls by Gilish’s cavalry.
When her song died away Azkun was left with a picture of a place like Gel-Alhak only larger. Atonir, it seemed, was so vast that there were rooms in it that no one had visited since it was built. It sounded impossible, but the bridge of Sheagil he had seen in the north had looked impossible. Such were the works of Gilish.
When the sun rose next morning he saw Atonir.
It was still distant, but it looked like a mountain. It rose, staggeringly huge, from the plains with sheer walls hundreds of feet high topped with battlements and machiolations that looked finely intricate from this distance. And, though it appeared vast now, he realised that they were still far from it. Towers and spires rose from behind the battlements as if they would pierce the clouds themselves. Flags swirled proudly in the breeze. He thought of Sinalth’s tower and there was no comparison. The Vorthenki tower was a crude pile of stones compared to this colossal structure. And it grew. As they drew closer to it the great palace towered higher and higher.
But it was more than its dizzying size that made it impressive. Although the lower walls were sheer the upper ones were worked with fine patterns and shapes that gave the impression of ornate delicacy rather than heavy stone. It was as if Gilish was as much interested in beauty as defence.
When Azkun looked hard at the more ornate parts of the palace he became confused. The shapes did not somehow add up. Lines that ought to have met did not, others that should not meet did. He blinked, shook his head and moved his gaze to the city below.
As a seeming after-thought the city itself spread about the great walls. The palace dwarfed streets and buildings of stone, although there were several towers at least the size of Gel-Alhak and one that reached nearly half the height of the palace walls. The multitude of walls, towers, trees and streets appeared to cascade down to the water’s edge. There lay the outer defences, an irregular, grey, stone wall that, as far as Azkun could see, encircled the city. It seemed a poor gesture compared to the great walls of the palace.
His sense of scale was confused. It was as if he were looking at a picture where the artist had drawn one building impossibly larger than the others, but this was not a picture.
“Atonir the Golden!’ cried Hrangil as the morning sun caught the honey coloured walls of the palace.
“Raise my standard,” commanded Menish. Althak passed it up to the lookout who unfurled it above the mast. The white horse was spread out in the breeze, a signal to those on shore that the King of Anthor had arrived.
They crossed the bay to the city and the palace filled half the sky. The towers flew flags, the Ammorl or the sun disc of Aton. The sun disc was the imperial standard and had been since the time of Gilish. The Ammorl, a flaming bird with outstretched wings, was Vorish’s personal standard. As they sailed close to the city walls Azkun saw that they were quite tall, much higher than Darven’s palisade. They were made of stern, grey stone that rose sheer from the water and they were crested with battlements. Azkun could see men with helmets walking along them.
Tall arches pierced the walls and through these were thrust stone piers that were bustling with people, much like the ones he had seen in the distance at Gel-Alhak. But these were larger and there were many of them. There must have been nearly fifty ships moored alongside the piers. Some with sails flapping in the wind as they prepared to sail and others tied firmly, sails furled, as cargo was unloaded. A constant stream of horses, carts and people moved up and down the docks. The noise of men shouting, donkeys braying and wheels creaking sounded across the water.
The noise grew as they approached and the smell of the sea was replaced with the kaleidoscope of wharf odours. The smells of fish and salt water mingled with those of dried skins, hay, dung and sweat. Gulls were everywhere, they circled overhead, they perched on the masts, they strutted on the piers and fought for scraps of food. Some patrolled the battlements with the guards.
A cry from one of the piers hailed them across the water. A man wearing Vorthenki armour and the blue livery of the imperial guard waved at them and pointed to three lighters that were rowing towards them from the pier. Awan gave the command to furl the sails and, by the time the lighters reached them, they were drifting slowly. Ropes were thrown to the lighters and made fast, then with a heave of oars the men on the lighters drew them gently towards the pier. Menish heard Awan make a remark to the effect that he was quite capable of accurately docking his ship under sail.
The Anthorians disembarked before the ship was made fast to the stone bollards that lined the pier. Althak waited so that he could help Keashil and Olcish, for there was a drop from the gunwale to the pier. Azkun and Tenari jumped down without difficulty.