Mike Wild - The Clockwork King of Orl

They were going to find the site and they were going to beat the Final Faith to it. The only thing they had to do was work out what to do when they got there.

They continued on for another hour, checking occasionally that Makennon's party remained behind them and that they hadn't missed something obvious — unlikely but still possible in the continuing storm. The sky darkened more and more as each minute passed, until it was a deep purple verging on black. It seemed logical that the worsening light would make finding Orl more difficult but, in fact, it was becoming an increasingly more simple task because they were running out of land. They could hear the Sarcrean Sea breaking violently on the far western edge of the peninsula now, and ahead of them Kali was just able to make out the looming and jutting stone of the coastal feature she had heard about but to this point never travelled this far west to see — the so-called Dragonwing Cliffs. The peculiar rock formations did sweep up on the horizon almost like wings, reminding them both of the fossilised remains in Scholten, but these were merely inanimate rock, carved over the years into their current shapes by the rather unique weather patterns of the nearby Stormwall. A meteorological anomaly that defied all natural explanation, the Stormwall wrapped the end of the peninsula about a league offshore, like a giant hand formed out of cloud, thunder, lightning and rain. No one had ever passed through it, only around it, and all shipping — what shipping dared this roughest part of Twilight's already tempestuous seas — avoided it by as much wheelage as they could. Why it was there — and why it maintained its roiling, booming and flashing presence in all weathers — no one knew, only that what lay beyond it — the Sarcre Islands — basked in a tropical weather system that was unknown anywhere else in the known world, and that, strictly speaking, should not exist.

The Stormwall and the Sarcre Islands, Kali thought. If she were to believe all normal accounts of this desolate part of the peninsula, there was nothing beyond them and nothing else here. But according to other accounts, there had to be.

Kali decided to tether Horse before they went any further, the terrain becoming too dangerous for his large and heavy form to negotiate. And, as it turned out, she did so just in time. Kali and Slowhand were making their way forwards, their long squallcoats flapping about them, when Twilight's distant sun moved fully behind Kerberos and its eclipse became full, plunging the Dragonwing Cliffs into almost total darkness. The pair could still see where they were going, by starlight, and just, but for the most part now the only guide they had to how close to the edge they were was the increasingly deafening roar of the waves crashing onto the rocks below. Even this, though, was only an intermittent guide, and they had to pause quite frequently when the sound of the sea was obliterated by the whistling and insanely howling wind.

Able to communicate only by gestures, they at last reached the edge, expecting to look down and see only the wild turmoil of the Sarcrean Sea. For a moment their expectations were met but, then, glimpsed between squalls, they spotted what they might least expect to see in the presence of so much raging water — fire. Both faltered momentarily but, yes, fire it was — flickering and fluttering plumes floating on the surface of the water. No, Kali realised, after a second, not on the water but leading across the water, twin lines of wind-blasted and mounted torches, to be precise, forming a wide avenue that narrowed with perspective as it led out into the sea.

Kali followed the fiery avenue back with her eyes, able to distinguish more now that she knew what it was. The torches seemed to climb the cliff face, disappearing only the higher they came, where they were obscured by the very edge she overlooked. Swallowing slowly, she beckoned Slowhand to follow her, moving slightly along the cliff, and there the two of them found themselves standing at the top of a part of the Dragonwings that veered diagonally rather than vertically, an age-old projection down and beyond the cliff wall that was less precipitous than its bordering sides. The feature at first seemed natural but then revealed itself to be distinctly and unnaturally shaped. In fact, it appeared as if at some time long in its past the projection had been deliberately and laboriously carved into deep and broad increments that looked suspiciously like risers.

The hells with suspiciously, Kali thought. They couldn't be anything else. At the same time as Slowhand lowered his jaw in surprise, she realised she was looking down a mammoth flight of steps.

This was the site, Orl, it had to be, she'd found it. Her elation at the fact was, however, marred by the knowledge that, while the steps were clearly old, the torches were not. She might have beaten Makennon herself here but the Anointed Lord had obviously sent in advance troops, probably during the night, to prepare the place for her arrival. Gods, what was it with that woman — did she want everywhere she went freshly painted too? Would she only use a privy where people couldn't hear her tinkle?

Advance troops or not, she was still going in. The question was, into what? She hadn't until now known what to expect of Orl, but if she had pictured anything it wouldn't have been this. She stared at the avenue of torches again, leading into the sea. What exactly, she wondered, was Orl doing out there?

Kali patted Slowhand on the shoulder, pointing down, and the two of them moved onto the steps, but Slowhand halted her almost immediately, pointing out two sentries illuminated by the flare of the torches a good way below and away from where they stood. Both Final Faith thugs were positioned beyond what would have been the shoreline but on what, they could now see, was actually a rock jetty thrusting out between the waves. While their presence was a hindrance to Kali and Slowhand's immediate plan, what was more disturbing was what lay at the end of the jetty itself. For there, half-obscured by the lashing rain and battered by the thrashing waters, was an ominous-looking grey structure shaped something like a cowl. Enshrouding the end of the jetty, it sat solidly amidst the maelstrom, a great shadowed maw offering entry into whatever the cowl enclosed, what appeared to be gigantic black pipes arching from its roof and down into the sea — or from the sea into its roof — that from this distance appeared to thrust from it like an insect's legs. Whatever the hells it was, both Kali and Slowhand knew what it looked like. A giant, heavy spider, just sitting there, waiting.

Kali knew she had to get closer, find out what it was. But with the presence of the sentries, there were only two ways they were going to be able to do that.

Slowhand had already thought of one. He was already raising his bow and lining up twin arrows, but Kali stayed his hand, shook her head.

"Take them down and Makennon will know we're here!" she shouted. "We have to get around them!"

"There is no way around them!" the archer shouted back.

Kali nodded. "Yes, there is!" She pointed down the steps to the side of the stone jetty. "We swim around!"

"No chance, Hooper. If the cold doesn't get you, then the currents around the Dragonwings will. You'll be smashed and dead on some Sarcre Island beach before you know it!"

Kali stared at him. "No, I won't!"

Slowhand sighed. The trouble was, he knew Kali was right and that, really, they had no other choice. "Remind me again — why didn't I escape the sewers when I had the chance?"

Crouching and keeping low, using alternate torch supports for cover, the pair began to clamber down the weatherworn rock steps, each of which was half as high as themselves. As they did, they noticed that the tops of the risers were fractured and cracked in places, as if they had once been trodden by some immense and sustained weight, something formidable that had at some point in the past ascended these cliffs. They couldn't concern themselves with what, though, as their immediate priority was to reach the jetty unseen. Thankfully, the sentries appeared to be more concerned with what lay behind them than in front, and they managed the long descent without discovery. Once down, they crab-walked to the edge of the jetty and, other than a moaning hiss from Slowhand, slid silently into the water.