Shading his eyes he stared into the west. The area they were mapping was a narrow strip of land, some 20 miles wide. On the other side of the mountains lay the ocean. A huge dark mass, like bunching storm clouds, reared up over the mountains.
… the seas will tip from their bowls.
The mountains were almost two miles high. The tidal wave beyond them was half as high again. And it was roaring towards the bay.
For the first time in his life Talaban felt the onset of fear-induced panic. It rooted him to the spot, and he stared horrified at the immense wave darkening the sky. For a dozen heartbeats he stood still. Death was coming, and he felt powerless to oppose its immensity. On the deck below him a man screamed in fear, and fell to his knees, covering his head with his hands. The man’s terror touched Talaban like a cool wind. Forcing down his own panic he sprinted for the control deck and entered the inner sanctum. Swiftly he placed the power crystals into the black panels and spun the wheel. The black ship swung and sped out to sea. Her power chest fully charged, Serpent Seven was almost a mile from shore when Talaban swung her again, pointing her toward the towering wall of water bearing down upon her. At the last moment he turned her again, making an oblique angle. The colossal wave struck the ship, lifting the Serpent higher and higher, like a spear towards the sky, until it seemed the ship would be hurled through the clouds. Ferocious winds tore at the vessel, and several men who had remained on deck were sent hurtling to their deaths.
Still the ship climbed, Talaban urging every last vestige of power from the chest which lay at the heart of the Serpent. The ship slowed and began to topple. Talaban clung to the control panel and glanced through the port window. It was a dizzying sight. Miles below him he could see islands about to be swamped. If the ship capsized it would fall back down the wave and be buried beneath the roaring ocean mountain. Twisting the wheel once more he struggled to straighten the Serpent.
A crystal on the panel cracked. Another shattered.
And then the ship righted itself, and was sailing serenely behind the great wave.
The world he knew was gone – and he had survived.
As Touchstone entered the cabin Talaban opened his eyes. The tribesman gave a half-hearted salute then slumped down into a second padded chair alongside the desk. He was a short stocky man, round-shouldered and thick-necked. His greasy black hair hung in two braids, and, despite his two years as Talaban’s scout, he refused to apply for Vagar citizenship and still wore his black tribal vest decorated with fingers of bone. He glanced up at Talaban, his green eyes shining with mischievous humour. ‘Them’s running around like snow rabbits,’ he said, ‘digging into the ice. You think they find what they look for this time?’
Talaban shrugged. ‘They will or they won’t.’ ‘Buy a big house, farm maybe, with all that gold,’ said Touchstone. ‘Big waste.’
Talaban found it hard to disagree. Driving gold rods into the ice was an expensive exercise, and so far it had achieved little. ‘These nomads,’ he said. ‘Will they fight us?’
Now it was Touchstone’s turn to shrug. ‘Who knows? Them’s tough boys. They’ll fight if they see the gold. They don’t believe in Avatars no more. They know your magic is dying. They know the ice killed the empire.’
‘Wounded it,’ corrected Talaban. ‘Nothing can kill the empire. We are too strong.’ The words were spoken by rote and even Talaban had long since ceased to believe them. ‘And you shouldn’t verbalize such thoughts. I don’t want to see you lying upon the crystals.’
‘Straight talk?’ asked Touchstone. Talaban nodded. The tribesman leaned forward. ‘You Avatars are like elk surrounded by wolves. You still strong, but the wolves will tear you down. They know it. You know it.’
‘Enough straight talk, my friend. And now I have work to do. Come back in an hour, and bring the Questor with you.’