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Synopsis

All across the waterworld of Aquasilva, change is being fought and ruthlessly suppressed by the Domain and its ferocious holy warriors, the Sacri. If the people of Aquasilva have any hope of survival, the Domain must be stopped.

Amid the perpetually raging storms plaguing the mineral-starved world, young Cathan, son of a powerful count, travels to inform his father of a crucial discovery of an iron ore cache in their lands. En route to the clan congress where his father awaits, Cathan unwittingly stumbles upon a Domain-engineered plot to unleash a firestorm of oppression upon the world.

Cathan is thrust into events beyond his control, forced to become an unwilling agent of change. A way must be found to break the ruthless grip of the Domain. And Cathan begins to understand the daunting scope of what lies ahead in a long and deadly struggle for liberation.

Excerpt

Chapter One

"IRON! IRON!"

The shout drifted up through the forest out of the tumult ahead, near the entrance to the gem mines. Birds settled in the branches of the cedar trees shrilled and rose from their perches. I urged my horses on, the wheels of the chariot stirring up clouds of fine dust from the path behind me. Then I pulled on the reins, slowing the chariot down as the path twisted abruptly around a tree.

Ahead of me the trees gave way to grass, falling away down the slopes of the foothills. To the right was the stone wall around the compound of the gem mines, its guard towers deserted. I could see a large knot of people in the entranceway where the gates hung wide open. What were they doing there? Had there been an accident? A riot? That was all we needed.

As I slowed down in the empty space of the killing field around the mines and wheeled the chariot around, they spotted me. I stopped the chariot a few feet from them.

A tall man, one of only a few wearing robes rather than laborers' tunics, stepped out of the crowd as they turned toward me, excitement showing on his face. It wasn't a riot, then, or an accident.

"Escount Cathan, it's fortunate that you have arrived; may Ranthas be with you." His beard was cut quite short, and his oiled hair was overlaid with powdery dust. His face was thin and gaunt, his eyes deep-sunk but alight with the same interest as the others'.

"What's all the commotion, Maal?" I asked. "What's so important that work's been interrupted, with the ship due to arrive any day now?" Any day now, that was, as long as the coriolis storm out over the ocean dissipated soon. It was the second this month, and the ship had already been delayed once.

"Master, we have found iron! The priest of Ranthas who offered to help our mining operations has discovered a huge seam of the red ore!"

I almost refused to believe him at first. Iron? Had we been sitting on top of one of the most valuable commodities of all for these last few ailing months and neglected it? Iron was in short supply across Aquasilva; the floating islands simply didn't hold enough of the ore to meet the demands of the steel foundries -- and, ultimately, of the continents' armies. After flamewood and its derivatives, iron was the most highly prized of all the raw materials.

"Is this certain?" I demanded, keeping my face impassive. I didn't want to show too much excitement in front of the mine workers.

In answer, Maal called to someone in the throng. There weren't as many of them as I'd thought at first; about twelve or fifteen people were clustered there, mostly overseers and foremen. Someone at the back tossed a lump of rock over their heads. Maal deftly caught it and handed it to me.

One of the horses whickered as I turned the rock over in my hand, noting the gray-black crystals in it.

"Is it mineable?"

"The priest thinks so. He's in the mine with Haaluk."

"Someone come and hold the reins," I said. One of the men moved over and took them, and I stepped out of the chariot.

"Take me to the priest," I said to Maal. "The rest of you continue with your work."

A path opened for me to pass through them. Maal led me across the court inside the palisade. There were buildings along one side, and the opencast trenches on the other. Opposite us yawned the black hole of the mine entrance. I wasn't particularly fond of going in there -- I hate caves -- but this was important, so I'd have to try not to think about being underground. This gemstone mine was the principal reason for the existence of Clan Lepidor, the northernmost of the fifteen clans on the continent of Oceanus, and by a small margin the northernmost continental clan in the world. There hadn't been a city here before the Tuonetar War, but a hundred and fifty-eight years ago a prospecting party had discovered rich gem seams and shortly afterward a group of Oceanian and Archipelagan refugees had settled in the area and founded a new clan.

We were rather lucky, in fact -- there were rich fishing grounds nearby, and the mountains gave better than usual protection from the storms, allowing a lush forest to grow up along the coast. I was glad of that -- it made Lepidor territory a lot less bleak than the lands of some of the more southerly clans, which were too exposed for trees to grow there, and hence were very depressing places to be.

My House had been in power since its founding, after some distant ancestor or other had performed an extraordinary service for the city and the other Houses had unanimously chosen him to lead them. At least, that was the official story. It sounded rather dubious to me, and I guessed the reality had been somewhat less honorable. Still, that was history now, and my father, Count Elnibal II, was known as one of the most upstanding of the present fifteen Counts of Oceanus.

The problem for us at the moment was that over the last few years the price of gemstones had been dropping and the mine had become less profitable, and in recent months the Count and the merchants had been struggling to make ends meet. We could survive, of course, without the mine: there was fertile farmland along the coast and extensive fisheries for food, and the forests would supply us with wood and keep some exports going.

But without the gems there was nothing worthwhile to trade, and so Clan Lepidor would degenerate into a farming combine, not fit to be called a clan. And since I didn't want to inherit a mere combine, nor see my clan's fortunes plummet, I'd been as worried about the future as anyone.

Until now. My head was suddenly full of possibilities. If there was enough iron, and it could be exploited, we'd be rich again as soon as the first cargo was sold in the markets of Oceanus's capital, Pharassa. We might even be able to sign a contract with a Great House to carry it across the ocean to Taneth, Aquasilva's trading capital. It was a long journey, and I knew it was much more dangerous, but the iron prices would be much higher there.

I ducked under the wooden framework of the gateway and into the tunnel of the mine, lit by three flamewood torches. I heard two voices a little way ahead.

"...Seam extends out for hundreds of feet, I tell you."

"I know the rock around here, Domine, and there's no possible way it can." The voice of the mine's manager, Haaluk-Itti, coarser than the smooth, modulated tones of the priest of Ranthas. Haaluk had been exiled from Mons Ferranis two years ago after a quarrel with a merchant, and would spend another year supervising Lepidor's mines before we lost him again to his homeland. It would be a pity: despite his abrasive bitterness, he was a good manager.

"Ah, Escount Cathan," the priest said, as he saw me. His face was in shadow.

Haaluk, who was standing with his back to the entrance, swung around. "Doubtless you've heard," he said. "I have found myself forced to disagree with Domine Istiq, despite all his wisdom, on the extent of the deposit." Priests were always called Domine, a title from the old tongue.

"What's the difference in your estimates?" I ask Haaluk.

"His are twice as large as mine."

"Is the mine workable with your figure?"

"By all means. The Domine will tell you," he said gruffly.

"My calculations are rough guesses, you understand," Domine Istiq said, "but I would estimate you have enough here to sell ten thousand corons' worth every month, for more than a century and a half."

I attempted to calculate the resulting profit figures in my head, but failed. I was never very good at mental arithmetic, although I could work sums out easily enough on paper.

"Your annual expenses amount to around two thousand, Escount Cathan," Istiq said. "Eight thousand left over, at least four remaining after other expenses such as tithes and a merchant's cut." A sideways reminder there that we'd have to pay their dues to the Domain temple again, dues that had been waived this last year to help our survival. Lepidor's Avarch, while not native-born, had been in charge of the temple for twenty-six years and was more of a Lepidorian than a priest now; he was always very helpful and considerate.

"Those calculations are made with Haaluk's estimates?"

"Yes. With mine, you can go on mining for three centuries."

I wasn't worried. "Either way, we get back in profit."

"You'll need to hire trained iron miners from Pharassa, and they're much in demand. A contract as well, with some merchant from Pharassa or Taneth."

"Don't forget the Cambressian Admiralty," I said, remembering the third possible market, but Istiq looked doubtful. "Will you come back to the city for supper?" I added.

"Thank you for your offer, but I'll stay here a while longer to see if we can find out the exact extent of these deposits." Istiq bowed, and I returned the courtesy before turning around and making my way back up the tunnel, cursing as I almost cracked my head on one of the wooden support beams. Maal followed me.

I blinked as we emerged again into the bright sunlight of the yard, now resounding again with a dull thudding sound as the gem miners broke up the ore with flamewood hammers, melting away what wasn't pure gemstone. At least, that was what I remembered my tutor telling me. I found the whole mining process even less interesting than theology lessons; it had nothing to do with the sea.

"Will you be going back to the city now, Lord Cathan?" Maal asked.

"Yes," I replied. "Work should continue as normal for the rest of the day. Haaluk is to come to me with some figures this evening. I need some hard facts before I take any action."

Actually, it was my mother, effective Regent in my father's absence, who would make any decisions. Not yet of age, I wasn't experienced enough to take full charge of the Count's duties while my father was away, and so I sat on the dais with the First Adviser whispering Countess Irria's advice into my ear. I'd actually been trying to pay more attention to statecraft lessons since my father left, because it was galling not to know enough to make my own decisions.

I went back across the courtyard and under the gate, noting that its towers were once again occupied by watchers who could survey the surrounding hillsides for traces of barbarian raiding forces. Not that they were likely to find any -- there was only one pass into the mountains within the city's territory, and it was well guarded, as were the coastal approaches.

The man to whom I'd entrusted my chariot handed me the reins. I hadn't taken my wrist guards off, so I curled the reins around my forearm, flicked the whip, and moved off along the path down to the city.

It was an exhilarating feeling, rushing along the road behind the perfectly trained two-horse team, and the speed more than compensated for the jolts as the wheels went over loose stones or shallow potholes. The road was beginning to show signs of disrepair, and I saw one or two holes big enough to lose a wheel in. It would need a team of road masons with proper tools to carry out repairs -- that was, if we had enough money for the flamewood. Well, the iron should solve that problem, I reflected.

The path straightened when I reached the main valley, and I passed between huge cedars interspersed with stretches of clear land. Once or twice I passed horse-drawn woodcarts manned by lumberjacks, carrying logs from the logging sites on the slopes. Then the road curved around and the trees fell away as I came out opposite Lepidor.

The city was built on a promontory, with a lagoon to the east, my right, serving as the city's harbor. To the west the coastline curved away, a long vista of farmland and stands of acacias, gently sloping down to a long sandy shore. Shining stone-built walls erected across the end of the promontory protected the city: I could see the houses of the Land Quarter just beyond them.

Lepidor wasn't a big city; the last census, carried out for tax purposes two years ago, had shown just under two thousand citizens. What it lacked in size, however, it made up for in cleanliness and the quality of its architecture. I'd seen most of the other cities on the continent and, even allowing for my loyalty to Lepidor as my home, I thought it was the best of communities, its buildings the most beautiful.

Every building inside the walls that ringed the outside of the promontory was built of the local white stone, and many stretched to three stories. From every roof, above the colonnaded windows of the first floor, a verdant garden sprouted, rooted in earth that had mostly been carried up by hand; there were some things that even flamewood couldn't do. One or two of the larger dwellings had small domes on their roofs.

In the surface harbor, also protected by walls, I could see warehouses and wharves, the masts of nine or ten fishing ships, and over to one side a small domed building -- the top of Lepidor's undersea harbor, where mantas docked and Lepidor's single home -- stationed undersea warship was kept.

I raced across the green open space that lay before the city and through the gates of the Land Quarter, the outermost of the city's three districts. The guards, both of whom I recognized, waved cheerily, and I waved back to them as I sped through. I had to slow down inside the gates, but at least the main street led almost straight through to the gates of the other two quarters -- Palace and Seaward. All three districts were circular, and protected by their own set of walls -- they had to be, for proper shielding from the storms. That was another reason I was glad to live here -- because the storms were less severe, our walls could be lower and weren't the dark, towering monstrosities of some other cities.

I passed the internal gate into the Palace Quarter, where the main marketplace and official buildings were, as well as my home -- the Palace.

The royal Palace -- more of a mansion than a Palace, really -- stood at the end of the main street, only a couple of hundred feet away. Both sides of the street were lined with shops, each one with an awning extending out of its front. Their counters were spread with wares whose holders nodded cheerily at the slow-moving chariot. I maneuvered my horses around the fat, green-robed bulk of the merchant Shihap, who was bargaining furiously with his friend the shield engineer.

"A fine day, is it not?" Shihap called, turning from his haggling. "You look happy!'

"Believe me, I am," I said, "and so will you be when the money begins to flow again." The story of the discovery would be all over the city by nightfall, so it wouldn't do any harm if I planted the first rumors of it. I spurred the horses on before Shihap had a chance to enquire further: let whoever Haaluk sent to spread the news have the pleasure of telling the citizens what had happened.

I slowed twice more to greet people before I reached the small square in front of the Palace. The stables were hidden away on one side, against the outer walls, downwind of course, and I handed over the chariot to a servant who ran out to take the reins. I unknotted the thongs of my wrist guards and left them in the chariot, along with the whip. My father didn't like riding equipment lying around in the Palace.

Two guards sat inside the gate of the Palace, as usual gambling with copper coins. They waved me cheerily past and into the small court of the Palace. It wasn't more than thirty feet across, with a flight of stairs leading up one side and plants growing in spaces between the paving stones. At one side was the door to the banqueting hall and council chamber, and the servants' door was set in the base of the stairs. Again, it was much smaller than, say, Lexan's Palace in Khalaman, but it was far more friendly -- and, for me, home.

I ran up the stairs three at a time, almost hitting my head again on the beams that supported the tiled roof.

"Where's my mother?" I asked the first servant I saw in the whitewashed hallway at the top.

"In the upper council chamber with the First Adviser, master."

I slowed my pace to a fast walk along the tiled corridor. Voices came from within the closed door of the third room on the left, and I knocked.

"Who's there?" came my mother's rich contralto voice.

"It's me," I said.

"Come in, then."

I pushed open the cedarwood door and went inside. The council chamber was a large room with a whitewood table in the center. This was the secret council chamber; open meetings were held in the main hall, because we'd never been able to afford a proper conclave room. There were twelve chairs around the table, one with a red canopy. My mother was sitting in it while the First Adviser sat in the first chair on the right-hand side.

"What is it?" my mother asked, seeing straight through the composed look I tried to keep on my face. In her youth she'd been accounted beautiful and, now past forty, she still looked impressive. Her long hair, an unusual dark blond, was tied up at the back, and she looked proud and regal. She wore a long gown of white and green.

"I drove past the mine while I was exercising my horses. They've found enough iron there to give us a" -- I tried to remember the figure -- "four thousand coron profit for the next century."

"Iron?" Atek half-rose from his seat. Our First Adviser was my mother's cousin, three years younger than her. He'd come with her when she married my father because her father, Atek's guardian, had had enough of his nephew's wild reputation. I'd never seen that side of him, and all my mother's relations agreed that he'd turned into a sensible man and a good adviser. He'd been employed as my father's First Adviser and chancellor since his predecessor's death two years ago. I didn't like to be disrespectful to the dead, but I preferred Atek to the dour, vinegary Pilaset. Atek was brown-haired and broadly built, though I'd noticed he was getting fat due to lack of exercise. He wore a white robe with red decoration, belted at the waist.

"Iron," I confirmed. "Domine Istiq and Haaluk are quite certain, although they can't agree whether the supply will last one and a half or three centuries."

"How come we never discovered this before?" Atek said, sinking back into his chair, his expression dazed.

"Because we've never had a trained miner-priest before," my mother said. "That was a section of the hill we'd never tested before he arrived."

It had been sheer luck that we'd gained Domine Istiq's service in the first place: he'd been one of three survivors from a manta that had been destroyed by a whirlpool off Islesend Cape three months ago. Once he'd recovered, he'd offered to do some prospecting in our mine to keep him busy until another manta arrived from his original destination, Mons Ferranis, to collect him. I hadn't had much contact with him, although it had been one of my undersea probes that had detected his powerless escape ship floating out toward the open ocean. It had been a triumph for me, though, because I'd at last proved to my father that all the time I spent in the sea or with the oceanographers did have some value.

"I ordered Haaluk to have some definite figures for us this evening," I said. "Domine Istiq would rather stay out there until nightfall, as he always has."

"You did well," my mother said, a warm smile lighting up her face.

"We have to send word to Count Elnibal," Atek said, coming to the same conclusions as Istiq had. "We'll need to sign a cargo contract with some merchant of Taneth or Pharassa, to carry the iron to the foundries."

"Could we set up a smithing industry here?" my mother wondered aloud. "If we made the iron into weapons before shipping it off, the profit would double."

"It'd make us a major target for pirates, though," Atek reminded her. "Until we have the money to build proper defenses, it would be better merely to sell the iron. I will suggest that course to your husband."

"Where do you think is the best place to sell the iron?" I asked.

"Taneth," Atek said immediately.

My mother agreed with him, and I was fairly certain that my father would have the same idea. Of the other two possible markets, Pharassa was closer, and safer, but the prices were comparatively low since there was very little demand there. Oceanus already had an operating mine so there wouldn't be much of a market for our metal in that place, either. The other possibility was the one Istiq hadn't seemed to like the sound of: Cambress, on the continent of New Hyperian. But the journey there was almost twice as far as the one to Taneth, and the profit margins would be far smaller.

Also, the route to Cambress passed very close to the territory of our deadly enemy Count Lexan of Khalaman.

"Who do we send?" my mother said. "Elnibal only left two weeks ago, and the council never lasts less than a month."

"This one might," Atek said. "The Halettites are pressing on the borders of the cities on Equatoria, so many of the Counts there will be anxious to get home."

"Which means we must decide before the trading ship arrives. Whoever goes will have to be quick at Pharassa and get passage on one of the military mantas making the courier run from there to Taneth."

"I should go," Atek said.

"I need you here," my mother reminded him.

"There's no one else we can send."

"There must be. What about entrusting a package to someone who was planning to go anyway?"

"No one of high enough stature. None of the bigger merchants were planning to go." Atek looked at me suddenly. "On the other hand, as long as he is escorted, Cathan could go."

I felt a thrill; I'd been hoping against hope that somebody would mention me, and wondering whether I should suggest it myself. I knew before she spoke that my mother wouldn't like the idea, though.

"No!" she said. "He's supposedly in charge in his father's absence; without him everyone will know I'm ruling, and that'll hardly endear us to the Domain."

"Everyone knows already," Atek reminded her. "Besides, his brother can serve as a figurehead."

"His brother is only five years old, or had that fact escaped you?" my mother said sharply. "What if there's another storm like the one three months ago, and Cathan's ship was sunk as well? What do I tell my husband then?"

"If Elnibal gets no word, he'll have to make the journey to Taneth again, at the time of year when Lexan and our other enemies can take advantage of any weaknesses, and that will be far more dangerous. Either I or Cathan must go. There aren't any alternatives."

"I would prefer it if you went, Atek," she said after a pause.

I decided this was the time to speak up for myself, before my mother decided in favor of Atek.

"Mother, I'll need experience of Taneth before I go to my first Council meeting. And of Equatoria. All of Courtieres's sons have already gone." Courtieres was one of our allies.

My reasoning was sound, I knew, and my father would have given me leave without hesitation. But my mother was always so overprotective!

I saw her looking at me as Atek nodded sagely.

"Is your heart set on going, then?"

"Yes!"

I saw a brief flicker of doubt on her face. But then she said, "Very well."

I was too conscious of my dignity to leap in the air and shout something, but inwardly I was pleased as could be. Clan heirs needed to have seen some of the rest of the world before they succeeded to their posts and I felt that so far I hadn't seen enough.

I was due to spend a year or two away from home quite soon, to learn how politics, trade and religion actually worked, get a grounding in oceanography, and find out how to sail mantas and surface ships. It was an apprenticeship that all clan aristocrats' and leading merchants' sons went through, but so far there'd been no indication of when I was going.

Not that I'd need to learn anything about ships or oceanography. I'd spent nearly as much of my life in the water as on land -- which was why my father was concerned that the rest of my education was falling behind. But he'd never been able to keep me away from the sea for very long.

The farthest I'd ever been from Lepidor was Pharassa, Oceanus's capital, two years ago -- I could have gone to the Great Conference with my father last time it happened, three years ago, but I'd been ill. Pharassa was a mighty city, but it was still on my home continent of Oceanus, and I'd never crossed the ocean.

And the obvious destination across the ocean was Taneth, one of the two greatest and richest cities on all Aquasilva, where it was said a manta entered or left port every hour, and a sailing ship every five minutes. Taneth was Aquasilva's merchant capital, and somewhere I'd always wanted to go.

"Who shall we send as escort?" Irria asked.

"Someone who has crossed the ocean, someone we can trust."

"Hasn't one of the acolytes from the temple been called to train in the Holy City?"

"I believe so. A promising young man who's been to New Hyperian and Equatoria. We'll send two guards with them. I'll arrange it with the High Priest."

"Do it now," my mother ordered. Atek stood up, bowed to both of us, and left the room, closing the door again behind him.

"It will be a long journey," the Countess said. "And going by sea, there is very little to do. Learn what you can from the acolyte, both about the world and the faith of the Domain. If he proves to be a fanatic, don't let yourself be taken in by his teaching. There should be a balance in the world, and sacking the lands of those who don't conform, as the priesthood does, is not right." She stood up and went over to the window.

"Atek is right, you've seen too little of the world. What you've seen of the priesthood is all that is good about it. We are too small a city to warrant anything more than a temple with four priests and ten acolytes. But in the capital and the other great cities, and in the priesthood's lands around the Holy City on Equatoria, there are thousands of warrior priests. They're zealots -- priests who can fight better than most other men, who believe in the cleansing power of fire and the sword. The Prime sends them out against those who don't believe in Ranthas. Cities and whole peoples have been destroyed by them. They're called the Sacri, the Sacred Ones." My mother almost spat out the last words. I'd never seen her so emotional -- she was usually very calm and collected, except on the few occasions when she argued with my father.

I tried to make sense of what my mother was saying. "Who does one worship, if not Ranthas?"

"Before I tell you, you must swear never to reveal what I disclose to you to anyone, or even hint that you know about it. Not even to your brother. Most certainly not to the acolyte." She seemed nervous, in a way I'd never seen before, fiddling with her girdle.

"Swear on what?"

"On clan honor."

"By my heritage and the clan of my birth, and by the continuation of our House, I swear to keep what I now learn secret and hidden from all the world," I said. Then I waited.

"What is the Domain's religion based on?" she asked.

Confused, it took me a second to answer. I'd been expecting her to tell me something, not ask a blindingly obvious question.

"Ranthas, the embodiment of fire from which all life comes." I took the passage directly from the primers the Avarch had used to teach me.

"And his gift to Aquasilva is? Tell me from the Catechism."

"Flamewood is Ranthas's gift," I recited, one of the homilies drummed into everyone as a child by the priests of the temple. Learning them had to count as the most boring thing I'd ever done. "It gives heat and light and power to Aquasilva, and through it the will of the God is channeled. Through flamewood we cross the seas, and keep away the storms. With it we make war and peace, all by Ranthas's bounty."

"Fire is an element, isn't it?" she said.

"Of course. Fire, Earth, Air, Water, Light, and Shadow, but Fire is the dominant one, and the one that holds Aquasilva together, with its dominion over Light."

"And it's the only one that endows men with the gift of magic, to heal and destroy?"

"Of course."

"So why do none of the other elements have gods, or magic? Flamewood may be vital, but we need water to keep us alive, air to breathe, and earth to grow our crops in. And without shadow there is no night."

"Fire is the Creator," I said stubbornly, still unsure of what my mother was talking about.

"Cathan, fire is but one of six elements. Each of the others has its own deity, its own magic, its own power. Some are potentially far more powerful, and far kinder, than the Fire-God. Don't we live on the surface of an endless ocean that makes up most of Aquasilva? That ocean is the domain of Thetis, Goddess of Water. The Void, the heavens beyond the storms, surpassing even the oceans in size, is the home of Shadow, and its spirit Ragnar. Then there is Earth, and its ruler Hyperias, after whom New Hyperian was originally named. Althana, Goddess of the Winds, and Phaetan, God of Light, are the other two. All of these have a history of worship as old as fire itself, and once they were freely tolerated. The Thetian Empire was founded on the worship of Thetis."

Her voice was no less compelling for the heresy of her words, but I found what she was saying a staggering concept to take in.

"Anyone found worshipping the other elemental deities is burned alive in the main square of their city. Even to know of them is dangerous." My mother's voice had descended to a whisper. "I don't ask anything other than that you keep what I have told you in mind, and that you look upon the works of Ranthas in the knowledge that other powers can accomplish the same thing, without needing to be supreme."

"This is the opposite of everything I have been taught," I protested.

"Teaching is the key to control," she said. "Remember your oath to the clan."

"I will," I promised, standing up.

Her voice rose to its normal pitch again as she, too, stood up.

"You must prepare for your journey, and bid farewell to your friends."

"And my brother."

"How good of you to remember him," my mother said, opening the door.

We walked out into the passage beyond and headed for the open door at the far end of the corridor, which led out onto a small roof garden overlooking the sea. The sky was virtually cloudless: only small white wisps marred its azure expanse, and the sea rippled beneath a light breeze.

That night I found a small scrap of paper with a passage in my mother's handwriting lying under my pillow. At the top she had written an instruction not to take it with me, for to be caught with it was death.

I memorized it before I dropped it in the furnace, though.

From a chronicle written by the last Thetian High Priest of the old religion.

...And so it was that I stood by my brother's memorial, looking out over the empty ocean toward the continents that had once been green and were now shattered wastelands. I have often wondered if this would have happened if my father had lived, but then I remember the incessant wars between ourselves we went through before all this. We have lost a world, but now we have a chance for a lasting peace and a new beginning. I only hope that Aetius's shade can rest in peace, and that we shall stay true to the vision so many have died for. I will never be able to fight or wield magic again, and even now I cannot walk up from the harbor without Cinnirra's help. Although I may recover some of my strength, it is my son and my nephew who lead Thetia now, and I hope that they will have the chance to forge a better world than I have ever lived in.

Hail and farewell,

Carausius Tar'Conantur.

It didn't sound like the writings of the Carausius we'd been told about, brother of the arch-demon Aetius who'd plunged Aquasilva into a terrible war. I wondered what my mother meant by it, and where it had come from.

Copyright © 2001 by Anselm Audley

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