Dead Stars - Part Two (The Emaneska Series) Read Free Page B

could tell. Farden ran his thumbs over the rivets that pinned the metal to the oak beams. Runes and spells hid here and there between the overlaps, whispering of shipsmith’s spells; sealing charms, strength runes, and whatever else his uncle had seen fit to include. Had Farden looked down into the dark waters trapped between the ship and the salty fenders, he might have seen more runes, glowing dimly in the half-light. Script battered onto the iron keel, like the ink of a Written’s book. The ship was a monster, indeed.
    Farden slowly made his way back to Durnus through the crowds of servants, sailors, and general gawpers. The Arkmage hadn’t moved. He stood alone, yet surrounded. Narrow-eyed guards stood in a circle around him, wary of the shouts and calls coming from the boardwalks not too far behind, where the crowds were.
    ‘Remind me again why we can’t use the quickdoors,’ asked Farden, hands thrust firmly into his pockets once again. He threw the ship one last dubious scowl.
    Durnus shook his head. ‘Aside from the quite obvious fact that you in your current state would fail to handle the journey, the magick has made them unpredictable, dangerous. The last mage we sent through came out bent double,’ he said.
    ‘That doesn’t sound too bad.’
    ‘Bent double. Backwards. Spine snapped like a twig. I am still trying to forget the screams.’
    Farden winced. ‘Point taken.’
    ‘I hope so,’ Durnus replied.
    ‘And Ilios?’
    ‘After his encounter with Samara, he is lucky to have any wings left. The fall nearly broke both. He has only managed a few short flights since, if hopping and fluttering can be called flights,’ Durnus replied. Farden frowned. A shout rang out from the boardwalk then, from somewhere in the depths of a cowardly crowd. The guards murmured. Durnus closed his eyes and let his ears drown in the noise of the dissenters. ‘It is getting worse.’
    Farden glared at the busy boardwalks. Peaceful for the most part, but, like the morning embers of a campfire, they were an inch away from igniting. ‘Ungrateful bastards. The lot of them,’ he said.
    ‘No, Farden, they are the misled masses. Coerced by coin and religious talk. Blindfolded and conquered by cheap notions. It is people like Malvus, and the rest of the Marble Copse dissenters in the council, that are the ungrateful bastards, the greedy whores, and the power-drunk liars.’
    ‘What are we going to do about them while we’re gone?’
    ‘We? No, Farden. I am staying to hold the fort.’
    Farden was genuinely disappointed. ‘Alone?’
    ‘Better alone than abandon this city altogether. Though I suspect that Modren will stay also, given the circumstances. The people have been given enough to complain about without absent Arkmages and Undermages. He and I will remain, to fight Malvus in the great hall, and to show the people that we are not as inept as they have been told. Truth is a blunter dagger than lies, but it is of a stronger steel.’
    Farden found himself smiling. He watched his old friend’s face as it creased into a frown, like bleached paper crumpling. It was a face that had seen several thousand years waltz by, and yet now there was a a depth of life underneath it that could never be understood. ‘Gods, I’ve missed your pearls of wisdom,’ Farden mused.
    The Arkmage shrugged. ‘Hmm, they have been rather scarce of late. Scarce and dun.’
    ‘So have a lot of things.’
    ‘Speaking of scarce, your crew has finally arrived,’ Durnus changed the subject.
    Farden looked around. ‘Where?’
    ‘In the streets. Behind us.’
    Farden looked over the Arkmage’s shoulder, bewildered. ‘How did you…?’
    Durnus tapped the corner of his eye with a finger. ‘You’ll get used to it.’
    As predicted, a long file of people emerged from the crowded boardwalk, flanked by a phalanx of spear-waggling soldiers and mages bedecked in light, sea-blue armour. They were silent, stoically ignoring the insults and shouts, the