Ricardo Pinto - The Third God

Night had fallen when Carnelian accompanied Osidian on a final inspection of all twenty-four dragons. Smoke obscured the stars. The incessant testing of flame-pipes had hung a pall over the fortress that had turned day to murky twilight. The fires of the Marula camp guttered across the cothon floor, where Osidian had insisted they must all spend the night. Carnelian had agreed to stay with him. He shared Osidian’s anxiety. Now the dragons were fully armed, he did not want them out of his sight. Lit by the torches attached to the piers, the bellies and legs of the monsters formed a continuous portico that could have been the edge of the Isle of Flies. Carnelian shuddered. He gazed up at one of the monsters. Though its upper horns were now bound to its tower with a hawser, its lower horns were still tethered to the cothon floor. The sickly pale tower with its pipes, chimneys, mast and rigging seemed a sinister ship in a fog. For some reason he was recalling the fear Ebeny had felt on that night, long ago in the Plain of Thrones, when she had been chosen from the flesh tithe.

Carnelian awoke on Heart-of-Thunder’s pier. He and Osidian had slept there so that they could be free of their masks. Dawn was running blood down the mast of the monster’s tower. Osidian was gone. Carnelian put his mask on and rose to face the day.

He found Osidian down on the cothon cobbles talking to Morunasa. Osidian was instructing the Oracle on how he and the Marula were to seed the fortress with naphtha sacs. Listening, Carnelian was struck by how thoroughly Osidian was planning his act of sabotage. He could not keep silent once Morunasa had gone. ‘Is it necessary to destroy this place so utterly?’

Osidian’s mask turned its imperious glance on him. ‘This fortress must provide no succour to my Lord Aurum.’

‘Is it not rather that you wish to send a message to the Wise?’

‘My Lord, you will take your grand-cohort out immediately.’ Osidian indicated the dozens of lesser huimur chained one to the other, each bearing a fully laden render frame. ‘Take our supplies with you to safeguard them. When you reach open ground, deploy your huimur to cover my exit from the city. Do you understand?’

Carnelian frowned behind his mask, angry at Osidian’s tone. ‘No news of Aurum?’

Osidian made a gesture of negation, then indicated the brightening sky. ‘The smoke we have been releasing will be visible from a great distance.’

‘As far as Osrakum,’ Carnelian said, knowing it must be clearly visible to the nearest watch-towers.

Indeed, signed Osidian.

‘And while I am screening the city, you will be here incinerating this place?’

‘I shall do nothing myself.’

Carnelian could hear the smile in Osidian’s voice. ‘You will make the Lesser Chosen commanders do it so as to fully implicate them.’

‘There are more ways to bind others to one’s cause than love.’

Carnelian would not allow himself to be stung by Osidian’s bitterness. ‘Which huimur is to be mine?’

Osidian made a summoning gesture and two legionaries rose from among the rest. ‘These are your Righthand and Lefthand. They will guide you to your command, my Lord.’

‘Until later then.’ Carnelian indicated to his officers that they should lead and he set off with them across the cothon floor.

As he approached the dragon Carnelian judged that, if it was less massive than Heart-of-Thunder, it could not be by much. Gazing up between the swelling arches of its eye-ridges, he found the scar glyphs of its name: Earth-is-Strong.

Carnelian turned to his Lefthand. ‘Have you ridden him long?’

‘She, Master,’ the man said, then shrank away at his presumption.

‘You were right to correct me, legionary,’ Carnelian said, gazing back at the dragon. He had not thought they could be female.

‘Nine years,’ the man was saying when Carnelian’s chuckle interrupted him. He was amused to find he was detecting feminine curves in the monster’s horns, her beak, the sweep of her crest. Her lower right horn was just a stump, so she really only had three.

Carnelian became aware of the legionaries’ confusion. ‘Come, let’s take her out.’

He followed them to the rear of a pier, where they opened a door for him. He dismissed them and began to climb the stair alone. No doubt its form was intended to remind a commander of the Law. He used its spiralling path to compose his mind. He must be careful how he managed those under his command. When he reached the summit, he saw before him the bone pyramid of her tower upon her massive back. He could not help feeling a stab of elation that she was his.

His officers were waiting, kneeling. He passed between them, then crossed the brassman into the tower. He surveyed the gloom through the slits of his mask. Men were kneeling before the furnaces, beside the flame-pipe counterweight chairs, between the spokes of the capstan. Carnelian noted the hawser that emerged from a hole in the deck, wound itself round the spindle of the capstan, then disappeared through another hole on the other side of the cabin. It was this hawser, attached to the upper horns of the dragon, that allowed her to be steered.

He climbed to the next deck. Framed by the brass of the huge trumpets, this cabin had been turned into a storeroom and barracks. He continued up to the command deck, where he took his place upon its chair. His officers came up behind him, then knelt to either side and began connecting tubes to their helmets. His arms rested naturally along those of the chair. Its bone seemed polished ivory. He raised his gaze to look out through the latticework screen at the cothon. Below him were the gleaming spars of his flame-pipes. Further down still the slope of Earth-is-Strong’s head sweeping out into the scythe and stump of her lower horns, into the hook of her beak.

He realized he did not know what to do next. He considered asking one of his officers, but decided it could not be that difficult. ‘Take her out.’

His Lefthand put his mouth to his tubed voice fork and murmured something, then lifted his head. Nothing happened. Carnelian was beginning to feel they were waiting for him to give another command, when he noticed some movement down on the dragon’s lower horns. Men were now sitting astride the brass cuffs, to which were lashed the tether ropes. Responding to some signal, both simultaneously leaned over and released the ropes. Earth-is-Strong’s head came loose. Carnelian flinched as she swung it up. For a moment he imagined her bony frill would shatter the tower he was in to shards. She let forth a cry like tearing metal. The tower shuddered. Then it heeled over to one side, causing Carnelian to grip the arms of the chair. The tower surged forward. The impact of the monster’s footfall jarred up into Carnelian’s head. The tower began another surge, toppling in the opposite direction. To his relief, as Earth-is-Strong got into her stride, the movement gradually smoothed like a ship riding a swell.

They were heading straight for the centre of the cothon. ‘The outer gate,’ he said, quickly.

The Lefthand jerked a nod and muttered into his voice fork: ‘Starboard for two counts.’

Carnelian felt the turn in his stomach. Ahead, the cothon was slipping right to left.

‘Shall I give the signal for the others to follow us, Master?’ the Lefthand asked.

Carnelian managed only a nod.

The legionary leaned to his voice fork and began murmuring instructions. Carnelian’s curiosity was piqued. ‘Who’re you talking to?’

The Lefthand looked up, startled. When he saw it was a question and not a complaint, he pointed up. ‘Our mirrorman on the roof, Master.’

Carnelian nodded, imagining something like a small heliograph up there. Earth-is-Strong was now pounding directly towards the outer gate of the cothon. As they approached, it opened before them. Soon its brass was glimmering past on either side. Then they began moving through the fortress towards the watch-tower that guarded its gate. Edifices slid past. Men scurried from their path. The fortress gate grated as it lifted into the retaining wall. Soon the shadow of the watch-tower fell over them.