The Map of All Things (26 page)

61
The
Dyscovera

“Monster! Monster off the port bow!”

High in the lookout nest, Javian yelled with such alarm that Criston bolted out of his cabin. The
Dyscovera
crew scrambled to their stations or crowded the port rails, shading their eyes to see.

Far off in the distance, a knot of dark clouds hovered in an angry localized weather pattern that moved like a shadow, a sudden squall that could easily bear down on an unsuspecting ship. Criston surprised the men with his odd request. “Pull up the fish nets! Pull them up,
now
!”

Running faster than the others, Mia was the first to turn the crank at the ship's stern, and a couple of other men joined her to haul up the nets that trolled in the
Dyscovera
's wake. Instead of the usual day's catch of flopping fish, the nets came up empty except for a few strands of seaweed.

Criston paled, knowing what that meant. “It's the Leviathan.” He began to breathe faster with excitement, and he scrambled up the rope ladder to join Javian in the lookout nest. The boy pointed. “It's huge, Captain. And horrible. I've never seen such a thing.”

Criston extended his brass spyglass and placed the lens to his eye, scanning the knotted storm. In the murky grayness of choppy water, he spotted the enormous creature that had given him so many nightmares over the years.

“You've never seen such a thing because there is only one.”

Leviathan
. The terrifying lord of the seas.

The monster's blunt, mountainous head rose out of the water, glaring at the world with its single milky eye. Its maw opened so wide it looked like a cave filled with mammoth tusks. Masses of serpent-headed tentacles thrashed about as the creature moved along.

On the deck below, Kjelnar glared at the distant storms. “This ship can withstand any sea-monster attack, Captain.”

Criston was not convinced. The horrific beast continued to swim away, accompanied by storms that manifested from its own anger and loneliness. But the Leviathan was
not
coming to attack them. Miles ahead, off the port bow, the monster dove to prowl the depths, moving toward the horizon. It had not seen the
Dyscovera
.

Javian laughed with giddy relief. “We're safe!”

“Not safe.” Criston handed the spyglass to the young man, who took a last look. “No sailor will ever be safe so long as that thing remains in the oceans of the world.”

Before dawn the next day, when the cook lit the breakfast fires in the galley, Criston knocked on the prester's cabin. “You have your anchor to carry, Hannes, your own tragedies in life. That monster is mine. Would you preach the story today? The crewmen cannot be allowed to forget what we face out here.”

In the lantern light, Hannes's burn scars were quite visible. “Each man has his own Leviathan to face, Captain. Yours happens to be the real one. I will remind the men of the evil that still lurks out in this world.”

When dawn broke on calm seas, the crew gathered to hear Prester Hannes. Criston stood close to Javian, who squirmed with the thrill of fear. Hannes had so much angry passion within him that he painted a story of terror and fury as he spoke, fascinating his listeners.

“The Leviathan is a creature of destruction, a manifestation of all the evil that Ondun was unable to eradicate from mankind.
We
can defeat the Leviathan and all it stands for by keeping our true faith. The enemies of Aiden are monsters as terrible as that one, but we can overcome.” He paused for effect. “Our captain has already encountered the Leviathan—and lived.”

As Criston listened, one hard and stubborn part of him wanted to face that beast again, to throw a sharp-ended harpoon into the center of that hateful eye, as Captain Shay had tried to do. The Leviathan had destroyed his life, killed his friends and crewmates. Though he had survived the wreck of the
Luminara
, the monster had ultimately taken away what should have been his perfect and happy life with Adrea.

But for the monster's senseless attack on the ship, Criston would have returned home to fight the Urecari raiders. He would have defended Adrea and their unborn baby, or he would have died at their sides. Either way, it would have been better. Now he was left without them. It was too late.

But he could look forward to another encounter with the Leviathan, a chance to repay the pain that the creature so richly deserved….

Hannes raised his voice. “If we must face the Leviathan, the spirit of Aiden will help our fight.” He grasped his pendant, squeezed it in his fist. “The most terrible creature of the seas can be killed by something as small as a fishhook!”

The
Dyscovera
's crewmen cheered, bolstering their confidence. The prester wrapped the men in his spell, inspiring passion and dedication. But Criston knew that no one could match
his
passion to kill the Leviathan.

62
The
Al-Orizin

In the weeks after the eclipse, Saan steered a course northeast across the Middlesea, far beyond the sand shoals outside of Kiesh. Despite studying the Map of Urec, he could not determine where they were, or how they might find the Key to Creation. He expected to encounter the northern shore many leagues east of Gremurr, but the body of water grew wider and wider, with no end in sight. The
Al-Orizin
sailed on.

Saan was sure they would encounter foreign lands and strange peoples, not unlike the Nunghals on the far side of the Great Desert. Sooner or later, the ship must find another coastline… unless they had exceeded the reach of Ondun's creation, and nothing but water filled the rest of the world. That was an intimidating thought.

Ahead, foamy water churned around a line of reefs out in the middle of the empty sea. Cautious lookouts leaned over the sides of the ship, watching for underwater hazards that might tear open the ship's hull.

Grigovar strode up to the young captain, tossing his black hair. “Captain, those reefs are sure to offer a feast of mussels, oysters, and urchins. If you're as sick of eating fish as I am, let me dive down to see what I can find.”

Sen Sherufa shrugged. “It is our task to explore. Who knows… maybe Grigovar will find an undersea kingdom?” She said nothing more about the legendary Saedran origins or their sunken continent.

Sikara Fyiri announced herself in typical fashion, with a sweeping proclamation. “There are no undersea kingdoms.” Stepping close, she stroked Grigovar's broad shoulders, though the reef diver was much more interested in peering into the clear water than in her romantic attentions.

Ultimately, Saan knew his crew needed something to distract them from their endless voyaging. “Drop anchor here. I admit I'm tired of salted meat and boiled fish. Grigovar, take one of the ship's boats so we don't endanger our hull around those reefs.”

The reef diver stripped off his shirt and secured a dagger to his waist for prying shellfish loose. After two crewmen had lowered the boat into the water, Grigovar rowed over to where foamy water marked the reefs. He tied a small mesh bag to his waist-wrap, then slipped over the side of the boat, stroking down deep. When minute after minute ticked by and he still did not reappear, the men began to mutter. “Something's eaten him, I think.”

“No man can hold his air that long.”

“No
normal
man. You've heard him sing as he pulls on the ropes—Grigovar's got lungs as big as his ego.”

With a welcome splash, the diver surfaced again, holding aloft a bulging mesh bag. “Oysters! Dozens of them!” He emptied the sack into the boat, heaved several deep breaths, then dove again. He rose three more times, emptying his haul each time. “A feast for us all!”

Grigovar crawled back into the boat and rowed farther toward the reef's edge. “A better bed!” he yelled, then dove again.

The man in the lookout nest began to shout. “Sea serpent!”

Excited, the crew rushed to the starboard side of the
Al-Orizin
, and Saan spotted the sinuous line of a scaly creature gliding along. It reminded Saan of a deadly snake knifing through the grasses of a salt marsh. Its neck rose up, displaying coppery spots on pale blue scales. Its snub head was nearly as large as the ship's boat.

“Bring pots and pans!” Saan shouted. “Make a lot of noise—we might drive it away.”

Some men rushed to the galley, while others grabbed anything that could be used as a weapon. Yal Dolicar mounted the fighting dagger onto his wrist stump, though such a blade would do little against a sea serpent. Sikara Fyiri stood her ground, as if she could drive the creature away by sheer force of will. The spotted serpent continued to glide through the water, making no threatening moves… yet.

Unaware of the commotion, Grigovar burst to the surface and threw another sack full of oysters into the boat. He yelled, “We'll have fine eating tonight, Captain!”

Drawn to the noise, the serpent streaked toward the reef diver like a thrown spear.

“Watch out!” Saan shouted. The crew ran around the deck with their pots and pans, setting up a tremendous racket, but to no avail. The serpent's attention was fixed on its prey.

The racket did get Grigovar's attention. He saw the monster bearing down on him, its fanged mouth gaping open. Flailing in the water, he brandished his long dagger, but the serpent was not impressed with the threat. He tried to duck behind the small boat, but the serpent struck down and grabbed him out of the water, raised him into the air like a pelican with a fish, and swallowed him whole. Closing its jaws, the monster dove back under the water.

The men aboard the
Al-Orizin
howled curses. Tears streamed down Sen Sherufa's face, and Fyiri looked sickened. “Weapons, everyone! Set the sails!” Saan couldn't believe what he'd just seen, couldn't believe Grigovar was gone. After swallowing its meal, the serpent moved fluidly through the water. Even with favorable winds and masterful piloting, they could never catch the beast. But Saan knew he had to do something.

The lookout kept a sharp watch as the
Al-Orizin
started to move. Saan stood at the bow for a tense ten minutes, burning with disappointment and guilt. Their easy voyage had lulled him into forgetting how many dangers lay out in the unexplored waters. Grigovar had been lost for no good reason. Oysters? The idea nauseated him as they sailed away in hopeless pursuit.

From above, the lookout shouted, “Captain, I see the serpent, two points to starboard! It's… just lying there on the surface.”

“Maybe it sleeps after a meal,” Dolicar mused. “Like a jungle python.”

Saan bristled. “Then we'll make it sleep permanently. Everyone, ready weapons. As soon as we're within range, kill it!”

As the
Al-Orizin
approached, however, Saan realized that something was amiss. The spotted serpent drifted like a dead fish carcass. It hung suspended, its head underwater, its blowhole venting no gases.

The men held their harpoons, and archers nocked metal-tipped arrows to their bows. Everyone expected the serpent to rise up and attack, but the water was stained red by clouds of scarlet blood dissipating around its neck. As it drifted, the spotted monster began to roll over, and Saan could see a long gash down its throat—surely a mortal wound.

With a sudden splash, a man surfaced in the water nearby. Grigovar wheezed, covered with gore and slime. Saan stared, speechless, and the crew set up a loud cheer. Looking stunned, the weary reef diver raised a hand. “As soon as you're done staring, could somebody throw down a rope?”

When they hauled Grigovar aboard, the sailors were astonished to find him uninjured, though shaken. “I got stuck in the serpent's throat.” He made a jabbing motion with his blade. “I slid over its meaty tongue and down into the gullet, but I sliced my way out and made a new exit for myself. A shortcut, you might say, though it took a long time to saw a hole through those tough scales.” Grigovar laughed aloud.

Two crewmen hauled up a bucket of water and dumped it over the man's head to wash off the slime.

“But we saw the dead serpent when we sailed over here,” Saan said. “Where were you?”

Grigovar stroked his dagger's hilt with pride. “After cutting myself free, I dropped my knife in the commotion. I couldn't leave such a lucky blade behind. I had to dive five times before I finally found it. The water's deeper here.”

Yal Dolicar sat on a barrel, shaking his head in astonishment. “Though I saw the events myself, even
I
wouldn't be brazen enough to tell such an outrageous story!”

Saan gave orders to head back to the reefs so they could retrieve the ship's boat. “And the oysters,” Grigovar insisted. “I worked too hard to get them.”

63
Reefspur

The royal cog sailed south from Calay, pausing at each main village. The captain was in no hurry, and Prince Tomas enjoyed the slow progress, spreading the joyous news about his sister's betrothal to Jenirod.

Day after day, the ten-year-old stood on deck, drinking in the scenery of cliffs and inlets, forested hills, and thundering waterfalls that plunged into the sea. Over the past two weeks, he had seen many villages, but each one remained distinct in his memory. It was about time he experienced more of the world. Guard-Marshall Obertas was also a stern taskmaster, insisting that Tomas continue his studies inside his cabin, learning his letters, his numbers, and his history. As a prince, not just a boy, Tomas had a duty to make himself as knowledgeable as possible about all aspects of Tierra.

Outside the coral breakwaters of Reefspur, a local pilot rode out to meet the cog, guiding the captain safely into the sheltered harbor. Tomas stood amidships, watching and waving.

“Time to change into your formal clothing, my Prince.” Obertas had already donned his royal guard uniform again and slicked back his hair into a ponytail under a dark felt hat. “Make yourself presentable.”

In his cabin Tomas rummaged in a cedarwood trunk to find one of the clean (but uncomfortable) formal outfits, as well as the heavy cape lined with Iborian ermine. During days at sea, Tomas wore casual garments, just like the other sailors, but as soon as they approached the docks, the Reefspur villagers would come out to see him. It was his job as prince to cut a fine figure, which they would remember for a long time.

Tomas was eager to meet the villagers, but even more eager to sleep on a solid bed in one of their inns. He'd never been able to get much rest in his narrow shipboard bunk, nor in the swaying hammocks the sailors used. Despite his excitement for the voyage, the boy had been queasy for the first several days, until Guard-Marshall Obertas gave him a bitter-tasting root to chew, and that had quelled his seasickness.

Obertas was as much a teacher as a personal guard. When they approached each landfall, he made a point of instructing Tomas about the town, its environs, and its history. He listened closely, aware that a prince should know all about Tierra. When the royal cog entered the harbor, Tomas asked, “Wasn't Reefspur the site of a great battle a few years ago?”

“Yes, my Prince. Our ships defeated and burned a pair of Urecari war galleys. It was a great victory for Aiden, one of many.”

Again and again, Tomas heard accounts of how enemy raiders struck coastal settlements, but each time the resilient Tierran people had recovered. Blessed by Aiden, they clung to the Fishhook for strength and defied the enemy by rebuilding. Even so, the tales of devastation left Tomas shaken and angry. He fingered the ivory hilt of the dagger his grandfather Broeck had given him. “Why do they hate us so, Obertas? Why would people do such things?”

Obertas merely gave a somber nod. “Because they are Urecari animals.”

In their own boats, the people of Reefspur rowed out to welcome the royal cog as the ship entered the sheltered harbor. Everyone had been prepared for the prince's impending arrival, and he had another ten days of the procession before the ship reached the southernmost town in Tierra, after which the captain would change course and take them home.

Now, with the spotted Iborian cape over his shoulders, Prince Tomas crossed the wide plank onto the Reefspur docks, head held high. He raised his hands to greet all of the villagers who had come to see him. Obertas hovered close, tall and implacable, though silent. Aboard ship, the guardsman engaged in frequent casual conversation with Tomas, but in public Obertas held himself distant.

The small village was thriving. Most of the homes looked new and sturdily built, with a coat of fresh whitewash in preparation for his arrival. Chunks of coral adorned the walls and gardens, as well as dried starfish and polished shells from the reefs. The Reefspur people wore simple clothing, though their coral necklaces would have been the envy of the wealthiest women in Calay.

The town leader approached, clasping his hands. “May the Compass guide you, Prince Tomas! As you can see, Reefspur recovered from the enemy attacks some years ago, and our village is now stronger than ever. Thanks to the Tierran navy, we feel protected and safe.”

“And because of Aiden's protection, too,” Tomas said.

When the townspeople talked casually with him, he found the lack of formality refreshing. The prester came forward and invoked a quick blessing. In the village square, the people had set out long trestle tables, and pots of boiling salted water hung on sturdy tripods over cookfires. The fishermen had brought in a catch of sardine-like fish, which they dumped into the cauldrons. Using wire baskets, sweating men and women scooped out the cooked fish and drained the briny morsels onto platters, one of which they presented to Tomas. Boiled onions and carrots simmered in other pots.

After watching the boisterous town mayor take the first few bites, Tomas picked up the silvery fish and devoured them whole, bones, heads, and all. At the table close to his side, Obertas ate two whole plates of fish; he had eaten enough camp food and military rations that he would not let a good meal go to waste.

When the conversation died down, the mayor called on Tomas to give his speech. The prince stood, wearing a proud grin. “Most of you already know—my sister is going to be married to Jenirod, the son of Erietta's destrar.” The people cheered and whistled, though it was old news by now.

He felt very much an adult as he continued his well-rehearsed words. “Queen Anjine wishes she could visit you herself, but she sent me in her place. I am so happy to meet you all, and to see your fine villages.” Though he was stuffed and already a little sleepy, Tomas knew he'd be expected to spend the afternoon touring the town and greeting villagers, shopkeepers, bakers, and fishermen. He said, “May the Compass guide us all.”

Their response was resounding: “May the Compass guide
us all.”