Off Sestus, The European Shore of the Propontis
"There are the signal flags." Odenathus shaded his eyes, looking out at the sun-hazed shore. "It is Khalid. His men are within the walls of the town."
"Good," two voices echoed as one. Odenathus turned, raising a sharp eyebrow. Both Mohammed and Zoe stared at each other, then laughed. The Palmyrene sorcerer stepped under the canvas shade covering the rear deck of the Jibril. The galley moved softly under him, rolling on the swell. Sunlight glittered on the water on all sides, broken only by the sleek, low shapes of war galleys and the round bulk of merchantmen. It was hot on the water, without even the morning's breeze. Odenathus hooked his thumbs into his belt and looked questioningly from his cousin to the lord of the Sahaba. "Well? Do we go ashore here?"
"No, not yet," spoke Zoe, Mohammed nodding in agreement. "The Romans still have a fleet-so we will keep full crews on the galleys. The troopships will unload under our sheltering wing."
"I am troubled," Mohammed said, smoothly following on her statement. "We saw many Roman ships flee our previous battle and I cannot hope storms destroyed them. Too, there are other ships in their hand. We have seen nothing of them, so I would guess the Emperor hoards them, waiting for us to present ourselves in a favorable vantage."
Zoe rubbed her right ear, thinking, then nodded as well. "We must assume our fleet will be destroyed if they bring us to battle."
"Yes." Despite the prospect, Mohammed seemed quite calm. "If all goes well, it will take another three days to unload the army. We must then move overland to Constantinople with all good speed. Shadin will command, with Khalid and his scouts in the van. We have not landed too close to the city-we will have time to forage and spy out the lay of the land. A week, perhaps, until we look upon the walls of Constantinople."
"Yes, and from good, solid land too!" Odenathus laughed. It would take a day or so for the men and the horses to find their land legs again. "And this one-well town? Do we leave a garrison?"
Mohammed's eyes glinted, catching a reflection of the mirror-bright sea. "No. A watch with a fast ship will do. They can bring us news if the enemy comes this way. Our army is not large enough to fight more than one battle at a time. There are ports closer to Constantinople to serve our needs. Perinthus has a good, deep harbor."
Odenathus nodded, turning back to stare at the shore. The hidden world was quiet. The enemy had not put forth his strength yet. The Palmyrene wondered what would happen when he did. Zoe had told him a little bit about her experiences with the power that flowed through Lord Mohammed. It seemed very dangerous.
– |The whinny of unhappy horses carried very clearly across the still water. Zoe opened her eyes and sat up, clutching a thin blanket to her chest. A series of rattles and clanks and groans followed. The Palmyrene closed her eyes and counted to ten. It did little good. The wind had dropped at sunset, leaving the Propontis very quiet. The army, despite the late hour, continued to unload onto the docks of Sestus, making an unholy racket while she was trying to sleep. Zoe pressed her palms to her eyes, then gave up. Sleep eluded her. A faint muttering sound filled the air, making her irritable and nervous. She let the blanket drop to the bed, then carefully eased up, her movements soft and quiet.
It only took a moment to pull on her pantaloons and a heavy woolen tunic she had found in the market at Caesarea. Bare feet would be best on the deck of the ship. A raven-haired ghost, she slipped out of the big cabin and padded up onto the main deck.
She breathed in, settling her mind, and let the true world open before her. In the darkness, the blue glow of the sea was bright, filled with the patterns of sleeping fish and the dark green surge of currents far below the surface of the water. Keeping her eyes away from the abyss of the sky, Zoe let her mundane perception come to the fore. A hundred yards away, the bulk of the Palmyrene lug Archelaos filled the night. Zoe smiled to herself, letting the rise and fall of her breathing and the beat of her heart center her.
Then, with a single light step to the railing, she leapt up. Cool night air rushed in her hair, flowing under her hands, and she lit, breathless and grinning, on the deck of the cargo ship. Lights twinkled on the water, reflecting ceaseless activity on the docks. The crew were sleeping. She heard nothing but snoring, loud and soft alike, aboard. The entrance to the hold drew her, a dark magnet. Zoe padded down the steps from the foredeck and then climbed down a short ladder.
Invisible in the darkness, the presence of the catafalque filled the hold. Zoe stepped close, letting her fingers find the ornamented scrollwork on the four corner posts. She shivered, feeling a deep chill in the air.
The muttering grew louder and she shook her head. A sick feeling grew in her stomach. Memories of death crowded her thoughts-the dead of her city, the acres of bones, the tumbled ruins, the shattered, smoke-blackened buildings-clutching at her with dry, twiglike fingers. Gasping, Zoe fell against the side of the catafalque, tears streaming down her cheeks. All of the pain that had filled her before the night journey with Mohammed came welling up, crushing her with its vast weight.
Daughter, listen to me.
Zoe's head jerked up, all her focus and concentration gone. It was very dark in the hold. A creaking sound echoed from the floor, coupled with the lapping sound of water against the side of the ship. The air grew cold. Zoe shuddered, afraid to move, afraid to touch anything that might be squirming close to her in the darkness.
Listen. Listen to me. Please, Zoe, hear me. The words were faint, almost drowned out by a near-audible muttering and hissing.
The Palmyrene woman pushed herself up from the floor, sliding away from the sarcophagus lying on the wooden platform, garlanded with flowers and rare spices. It was hard to move, an effort even to raise her head. Something dragged at her, trying to crush her down to the planks. Zoe started to choke, feeling nausea well up in her, biting at her throat. She clenched her teeth, biting back on vomit. There was something hot on the right-hand side of her head. Trembling, she raised her hand, touching her hair.
Something was at her ear, a spidery web of metal whiskers and wet, chitinous surfaces. Her fingers dug at it, tangling in sharp wires and rustling, clacking mandibles. Zoe snarled, a guttural animal sound, and ripped at it. Horribly bright pain blossomed and there was a tearing sound, coupled with a gelid, wet slurp.
"Aaaah!" Zoe tore at the thing, screaming in rage. "Aaaah!"
The thing writhed, cutting her fingers. Blood welled, spilling down her neck. A bright spark guttered alight in the darkness as Zoe called in desperation upon her power. In the flickering light, she saw a staccato image of something like a huge black spider, covered with waving ebon fronds, squirming in her hand. It was wet with blood and some shining fluid. A whiplike tail lashed in the air, darting at her eyes, a triple-pronged mouth flashing at the tip.
"No!" Her scream ripped the air and was followed by a brilliant white flare of light. She hurled the thing away from her, clacking and chittering. It struck the side of the catafalque and bounced away. Flames leapt up from the dry wood, burning brightly among the dead flowers and drifts of incense and cardamom. A billow of stinging white smoke rose from the platform. Zoe crawled away, hands on the floor, heading for the ladder to the main deck. A swift, rustling sound followed her and she jumped aside, catching sight of the spider-thing leaping at her out of the darkness. This time she was ready.
Fire roared out from her hand, filling the air. The thing was caught in the blast, silhouetted for an instant before it was set alight. It shrieked, flung back against the far wall of the hold. There was a sickening crunch and then Zoe chopped her hand down, face contorted with disgust. A jagged arc of lightning lit from her clenched fist and smashed into the creature, blowing it to fragments. The wall leapt with flame and the catafalque was burning fiercely. A hissing scream rose from the platform and there was a dry, rattling sound. Zoe backed away, her shield raised, flame roaring against the wavering blue surface. The side of her head was cold and wet. She pressed a hand against her ruined ear, trying to stop the flow of blood.
The ship groaned and the shattered side of the hold suddenly buckled, letting a flood of water into the burning room. Steam hissed up, filling the chamber and billowing out of the hatchway. Zoe, surrounded by licking flames, leapt up, springing out of the hold and onto the deck of the ship. A grinding sound followed her and the decking shuddered under her feet. Water continued to pour into the hold, drowning the flames. Hand bloody, her head throbbing with pain, Zoe staggered to the railing, ignoring the panicked cries of the crew. The Jibril floated peacefully, now lit by many lanterns. There was shouting. She choked back nausea. Waves of pain washed over her. The moment of fierce energy she had summoned up was fading, leaving her weak.
Legs trembling, she climbed onto the rail. The ship listed as the hold flooded, making balance difficult. Planks and beams ground violently, snapping as the hull cracked under the pressure. Focus came, but only slowly, like a drunk weaving down a street. The entrance to the hidden world eluded her, coming and going in fits and starts. The sky flowered open into an abyss of burning lights, then grew dark again. Steeling herself to the effort, Zoe tried to shut out the pain and the weakness. Suddenly, the matrices of perception coalesced and she could see the pattern of the sea and the air.
Desperately she leapt, soaring into the sky, the rush of her passage blowing back her hair.
Something metallic wiggled in her bloody ear and she screamed in fear, smashing her palm against the side of her head. The dark surface of the water rushed up with dizzying speed.