Chapter 26

The sky was clear as the sun cleared the last of the buildings. The smoke boiling off the tomb had ceased and only a lingering acrid smell remained, reminding Aden that an unleashed, undead monster was loose in the world. All the world looked calm and at peace as he stood on the retaining wall to scan the horizons. He pinched his lips, refusing to let the sigh escape.

Qasi was skipping stones using clumps of salt and strewn gravel. Ezza was standing at the water’s edge with his hand shielding his eyes as he searched the harbor’s shore.

“Ho,” he called out, “A small ship flying the governor’s flag is leaving the docks. Our ride will arrive soon enough with the easterly breeze.”

“This is a propitious development because... ?” Aden asked as he tried to rub the sour feeling in this stomach through his clothes.

“If he wanted us dead, he would have left us to rot out here,” Ezza said. “Whatever is on his mind, it is important enough to skip over the harbormaster and send for us directly. Besides, he must have set his spyglass on us at first light to see if we were still alive.”

“Morbid curiosity,” Aden said and then he sighed. “If that creature reached the shore, the gods only know how much destruction it caused. Did more people die because we failed?”

Qasi cleared his throat, “Pardon my butting in, your wizardship, but you need to stop thinking like an ignorant civilian and more like a soldier. This was our first contact with an unknown enemy with unknown magical ability. Only great, unimaginable luck would have struck down that thing, but now we have operational intelligence. Self-impalement and two arrows didn’t slow it down; it appears to eat your blue sparky stuff. We learned and survived to use what we’ve learned. What else did we have to kill it?”

Aden stared at the man with disbelief. Qasi shrugged and returned to pitching rocks into the water. “Once upon a time I knew the entire world,” Aden said as he gestured to the unseen gods in the sky. “Now, the more I learn the less I know. How hard you must be laughing, aye, falling off your ethereal thrones with mirth at my stumbling foibles. I need a drink and the sun has barely arisen.”

“You’re thinking like a soldier now,” Ezza said. “Drink while you can and act when you must. Eat, shit and sleep in between, if you can.”

“Fornicate!” Qasi shouted. “Don’t forget to release the beastie every day you can. So much to do and so little time.”

Aden stepped down from the wall and strode towards the water. He watched the ship tack northward in the breeze as it navigated towards the island while pretending that he had not heard the rest of the conversation. Ezza chuckled behind him and slapped him on the shoulder, “Welcome to the governor’s service; it’s not so bad after the first ten years or so of abuse.”

“I’d like to wake up one morning without a bucketful of regrets,” Aden said. “All I ask is for one day.”

“Stand in line,” Ezza said. “Be grateful if you are alive and can stand up when you open your eyes. This is the real world, not the fantasy world your temples created.”

“I count my blessings; I really do,” Aden said. “I greatly fear for the immediate future though. We loosed a horror upon these people.”

“Civilians killed in war are called ‘collateral damage,’” Ezza said. “This is the truth of war: swords and spears can barely spare an instant to discriminate friend from foe, and there is no compassion for the fools in the way. You live with the circumstances you are handed, or you die because of them. There is no choice in the matter.”

“Is this what we will tell the governor?” Aden said, wondering why he felt inferior to the frilly, overdressed toad.

“I will speak for us,” Ezza said. “The report is mine to make. Your words seem to provoke the man, even when you are not trying. Of course, when you deliberately stab him with your sharp tongue, anything said afterwards is for naught.”

“I want sticky buns,” Aden said.

Ezza snorted and began tracing circles in the sand amid the rocks. “Good to have you back. The first battle is always the toughest; the second one is the bloodiest.”

As the ship came closer, all three stood together on the beach with their weapons behind them, laying on the ground. The ship drew near and dropped anchor. A rowboat, which had been tied to the stern, was manned and beached in front of them. The two rowers looked stern and all business, yet one of them gave Ezza a quick wink. Without a word exchanged, the three clambered aboard and a few moments later, climbed onto the ship.

Ladles were thrust into their hands. Aden took a short gulp, whished the liquid around his mouth and spit out the mess over the side. Only then did he take a long, slow draught of water. Having emptied the bowl, he handed it back to the sailor and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“Report, sergeant,” the governor said as he strode over to stand before them. His attire was mostly hidden under a navy-blue cape with a band of gold thread at the top of the collar. The man had sunken eyeballs and his face was paler than Aden remembered.

Ezza gave his report of what happened in the salt mine, what they saw, and what few conclusions he could offer. The governor nodded, grimaced, nodded some more and then shook his head. He walked to the other side of the ship and stared out at the city.

“The good news is that the city did not burn last night,” the governor said at last. “This is the only good news. Follow me to the cabin. We need to talk.” As clipped as his words, the governor turned and marched to the hatch. Ducking his head while holding his hat, he disappeared inside. The three men followed.

As they gathered around a table bolted to the floor of the cramped room, Aden pushed aside a flashback of the tunnel weighing heavily upon him, yet he could not stop the momentary twitch of his eye. He sat down with a grunt. The governor took the chair at the top of the table, steepling his hands under his chin as if he were in thoughtful repose. Aden was surprised at the false presentation when the entire room was suffused with tension. Battle and death were at the forefront of any thoughts.