The Sea Rises Read online

  Also by A.J. Smith

  The Long War Chronicles

  The Black Guard

  The Dark Blood

  The Red Prince

  The World Raven

  Form and Void

  The Glass Breaks

  The Sword Falls

  The Sea Rises

  THE SEA RISES

  A.J. Smith

  AN AD ASTRA BOOK

  www.headofzeus.com

  First published in 2022 by Head of Zeus Ltd, part of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  Copyright © A.J. Smith, 2022

  The moral right of A.J. Smith to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN (HB): 9781786696960

  ISBN (XTPB): 9781786696977

  ISBN (E): 9781786696953

  Head of Zeus Ltd

  5–8 Hardwick Street

  London EC1R 4RG

  WWW.HEADOFZEUS.COM

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Part One: Marius Cyclone at the Dark Harbour

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Part Two: Adeline Brand on Nowhere

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Part Three: Marius Cyclone on the Inner Sea

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Part Four: Adeline Brand aboard Halfdan’s Revenge

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Part Five: Marius Cyclone on Kish’s Island

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Part Six: Adeline Brand on Nowhere

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Part Seven: Marius Cyclone on the Inner Sea

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Part Eight: Adeline Brand on Nowhere

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Part Nine

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Part Ten

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Appendix

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  An Invitation from the Publisher

  For Rowan

  PROLOGUE

  The water was warm and rolled only gently. As the creature swam nearer to the surface, it covered its eyes in a thin membrane to protect against the glare of the surface world. At this shallow depth, the sea was impossibly blue and crystal clear, and the warmth was gratifying to the creature’s old bones. It had not felt warmth for an age and had missed the sensation. It let its gills pulse and ripple in the warm water, sending a delightful tingle across its slender arms and legs. The flared webbing on its hands and feet enabled the creature to glide effortlessly upwards, and the broad, spiny crest down its body and tail gave it tremendous speed, though it was not using its speed to swim directly to the surface. The creature was turning and spiralling in the sea, playfully weaving back and forth just under the water line. It needed time for its large, black eyes to become accustomed to the light, for it could barely remember the last time it had seen the sun.

  After a gleeful few hours of playing in the warm water, the creature slowly ascended, weaving upwards with its muscular tail, until its head emerged into the light. Its head was small compared to its large, elegant body, with few facial features other than a pair of circular black eyes and a narrow, wide mouth. The creature could be expressive, flaring the light blue crest that began at its forehead and ended at the tip of its tail. It could even smile, should the mood arise. As it was, the creature was pensive, unsure what it would find in the surface world after so long away.

  It could tread water indefinitely, turning left and right to get a good view of its surroundings. It feared the view would just be of the open sea, but luckily the creature was not the only thing newly risen from the black depths of the ocean. Rocky pinnacles, covered in seaweed and barnacles, punctuated the water, creating an enormous barrier around a central island. The small landmass was pitted and craggy, with a single peak at its centre, for in the distant past it had been an active volcano. It had languished in a deep ocean trench, only now re-emerging into the clear sky of this world.

  The creature smiled, its long, thin mouth covering most of its face. It swished its tail and plunged downwards into a happy somersault, before poking its head back up to the surface world. Long, long ago the island, and the sea-caves beneath it, had been the creature’s home. It was excited to return to the beautiful underwater caves, with their brightly coloured fish and vibrant coral.

  But its happiness and excitement was short-lived. Nearby, stuck on the newly risen shore of the creature’s island, was a strange contraption. It looked as if it was made from pieces of a tree, cut into planks and secured together. Within its concave frame were three babbling animals, encased in fabric, with hairy heads and faces. The creature let forth a startled squeak and ducked back beneath the surface, for fear of being seen as a threat by these strange animals.

  The creature silently swam towards the wooden thing, reaching out with its senses to see if it was in danger. It gathered pebbles with a sweep of its webbed hand and allowed itself another small smile. It was nice to feel something other than water.

  “By the Bright Lands, what the fuck is that?”

  “Calm down, it’s just a big fish.”

  “That is not a fucking fish. It’s one of those big frog-things”

  The creature wasn’t sure what the sounds meant, but the animals in the wooden thing appeared agitated and afraid. Close up, they were quite small, and hefted strange objects of wood and metal. The creature believed they were weapons of some kind, but assessed that the hairy animals were more afraid than it was, and probably quite harmless. It wanted to communicate with them, but would need time to understand their sounds. They appeared sophisticated enough to have language, and their forms were familiar. At the very least they had two legs, two arms and a head. Was this what the living world had conjured in the absence of the Ik’thya’nym?

  The creature felt an uncomfortable sting at the base of its tail and realized the animals had thrown something at it, using a smaller wooden contraption to propel a splinter at speed. It decided to put a stop to that by emerging onto land.

  “Shoot it again.”

  “It’s getting closer.”

  “What is it? I saw those Sunken Men at the Bay of Bliss, it ain’t one of them.”

  The creature glided into the shallows and stood up, flicking countless centuries of sea water onto the gravelly beach of its island. The sky was endless and intoxicating, and the creature was happy enough to almost ignore the second wooden splinter propelled into its tail. Almost, but not entirely. It turned to the fabric-clad animals, irritated that they’d interrupted its communion with the surface world. It didn’t wish to harm them, for it was not a violent creature and di
dn’t like seeing violence in others.

  “Again. Shoot it.”

  One of the animals fumbled in his fabric, trying to pull another splinter from a container hanging around his waist. All three had now stood up and were barely half the height of the creature, though they were solidly built and certainly land animals. It didn’t want to scare them, but neither did it want more wooden splinters fired at it.

  “Load your fucking crossbow.”

  “My hands are shaking.”

  “This island didn’t exist a week ago. What’s happening?”

  The creature stopped fidgeting as it regained comfort in the surface world. The open spaces and changeable winds were wonderful, but had not been felt for a very long time, and the babbling animals were adding an urgency to the situation that was somewhat unwelcome. The creature decided to be gentle. It opened its stance, pulling its long tail from the sea and flaring its pale blue crest. With arms wide and a warm smile on its face, the creature bowed to the animals, trying to convey that it was not a threat.

  “What the fuck? What’s it doing?”

  The creature began to understand the odd utterance. They certainly used separate sounds, almost like words, but strung together with such speed as to make individual meaning hard to discern. They were asking questions, or perhaps just expressing incredulity. It thought it would try to communicate. The creature placed a webbed hand on its head, saying Ik’thya’nym to the jittery animals. Ik’thya’nym. Then it hunkered down, leaning back on its tail and trying to appear less intimidating. Perhaps they had old stories and the name would be familiar.

  One of the animals yelped and hid behind the other two.

  “It’s talking.”

  “At least it’s not trying to eat us.”

  “It hasn’t got any teeth.”

  The creature sat on the pebbles, listening carefully to the animals’ sounds. They’d stopped trying to hurt it, but were no less questioning. Everything about their body language projected fear and uncertainty, and the creature wished it understood what they were saying. It was supremely perceptive, bordering on the empathic, and could discern intention and character with relative ease, but language still took time. “Ik’thya’nym,” it said again, this time with sadness.

  One of the animals narrowed its eyes and took a step towards the creature. It waved its hand in the air, before turning back to the other two. “I think it’s saying hello.”

  “Ak,” said the creature, smiling again and mimicking the animal’s hand-waving.

  “Don’t get too close to it.”

  “Relax, it’s no Sunken Man. You shot it twice and it’s not attacking.”

  The animal was tentative, but slowly put its fabric-clad feet into the gently lapping wash of the island and approached the creature. Not too close, but close enough to signal a lack of fear. The one that approached was younger than the other two, with less hair and a smoother face.

  “Hello,” said the animal.

  “Ha… lo,” replied the creature. “Ak.”

  “Fuck me, what are you? You don’t look like a frog. You’re kind of… beautiful.”

  The animal was trying to express wonder. There was an open friendliness to its face that the creature rather enjoyed. It implied that these animals were far from simple minded and that they perhaps had culture and sophistication. Certainly, for land animals to have turned a tree into a sea-going vessel was impressive, and indicative of some kind of civilization.

  Once again, the creature patted itself on the head and said the name of its species. “Ik’thya’nym.”

  The animal peered at the creature, before mimicking the gesture and saying, “Eastron. Sea Wolf.”

  PART ONE

  Marius Cyclone at the Dark Harbour

  1

  The cat was black, with a flash of white fur beneath its neck and across its belly. It sat on the windowsill, looking at me and purring. There was an edge of menace to the sound, as if the cat was cross with me. I’d only come to the window intending to close the shutters, but had been stopped in this simple endeavour by a set of glaring green eyes and ruffling whiskers. It became a tense staring contest, though not one I had a chance of winning. The Dark Harbour had many cats, and all were proficient at staring. This particular cat was a fucking grandmaster.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered. “I’m sorry. I was away longer than I intended. Marta said she’d feed you.”

  The cat flexed its jaw, exposing sharp fangs and emitting a sharper snarl.

  “Okay, you’re not cross because you’re hungry,” I said. “Are you cross that we’ve not left yet… or are you cross because we’re leaving?”

  The cat’s name was Titus, and he was by far my harshest critic. My wife didn’t fully understand why I kept the little bastard around, encumbered as he was with an insatiable desire to scratch virtually everyone who entered his vicinity. Everyone except my daughter and I.

  “Please don’t be cross,” I pleaded. “I couldn’t take you to Nowhere, and I certainly couldn’t take you to the Silver Parliament… although the thought of appearing through the glass with a big, black cat on my shoulder does hold a certain appeal.”

  Titus snarled a second time. With a defiant flick of his tail, he stood, and paraded left and right, keeping his eyes on me as he prowled across the windowsill. His glare slowly dug into my soul, judging me and my actions in a way no human being could manage. I’d long suspected that Titus could read my mind, so he was likely catching up on all the stupid shit I’d done since I left the Dark Harbour.

  My intentions had been good, if somewhat naive. I’d meet with Prince Oliver, inform him that an ancient, chaotic god was waking up, and secure an alliance with the Winterlords, taking them with us when we fled the realm of form. The reality, that Titus was currently plucking from my mind, was that I’d witnessed two massacres, and inadvertently driven the Winterlord prince insane. The Silver Parliament was gone, as was Snake Guard, and Oliver had become the Waking God’s twisted general. Added to these failures was the fact that four void legions were currently marching on my hold, with the unwavering intention of killing every remaining citizen. I was trying to push these details to the back of my mind and focus on the tiny matter of the monsters rising from the sea to devour each and every Eastron I couldn’t save. The cat was right to judge me.

  There was a knock on the door and Titus fled through the open window, nimbly making his way to the adjacent balcony, where he could point his telepathy at Marta, my seven-year-old daughter.

  “I’m on my way,” I shouted. “As quickly as I can, whether you keep knocking on my door or not.”

  I was in my dressing room, belting on black and red armour of hardened steel and boiled leather. In doing so, I felt how thin I was getting. I could feel my ribs, and mused longingly on when I’d last had a good, fatty meal. Unfortunately, my musing was swiftly interrupted by another knock on the door. I’d been back less than a day and had arrived home with three serious wounds, each needing attention before I could get back to work. Now, with considerable expenditure of wyrd, I was fully healed.

  I closed the shutters, without allowing sentiment to make me take a final look over the Dark Harbour, and opened the door. Outside was an octagonal sitting-room, with three other doors. Furnishings of dark purple and red gave the space a luxuriant feel and a warm, comforting depth. Jessica, my wife, had an eye for design and had spent many hours, while I was away, turning the Strange Manse into a comfortable home. We’d lived here for fifteen years, since the day I refused my seat at the Silver Parliament and claimed the Dark Harbour for my own.

  “Are you well?” asked Esteban Hazat, the man who’d been banging on my door.

  “Do I look well?” I replied.

  “Not really,” said Esteban, with a shake of his head. “But I don’t really care if you’re well, as long as you’re ready.”

  “I am not well, but I am most certainly ready,” I said, smiling at the commander of the twenty-third v
oid legion. “Are they both here?”

  “No, Marius, they are not both here,” he replied, with an edge of condescension. “Antonia of the Dolcinites is here, but Merlinda of the Tender Strike is not. Word is she refuses to evacuate, and her followers seem to agree. We have three empty transport ships for them, but Merlinda has decreed that they will remain empty. They’re staying here, she says.”

  Esteban was dressed for travel, eschewing his usual plate armour in favour of thick fabric and leather in the same glossy black colour. He was older than me, pushing fifty years of age, and had commanded the urban cohorts of the Dark Harbour for as long as I’d been here. Now, he and all his warriors were coming with me to the island of Nowhere. Assuming I could persuade the remaining citizens to move.

  “Very well,” I said. “We can deal with Antonia first. Merlinda can wait.”

  “Not for long she can’t,” replied Esteban. “The first of your brother’s legions will arrive in a day. A few hours after that, the hold will be overrun. One way or another we need to leave before that.”

  “You’re suggesting I leave them?”

  “I’m suggesting that Merlinda and the Tender Strike want to stay behind… and we should let them.”

  “No,” I stated, walking past him to the second of the four doors.

  Beyond my family’s apartments were empty staircases of black wood, set within cavernous halls, and built to deliberately deceive the eye of anyone looking. It was easy to get lost or turned around, without ever finding the door you desired. Even I didn’t know every twist and turn of the old labyrinth. There were strange inscriptions and odd quotations, etched into the halls, some of which I’d seen once and never managed to find again. The only permanent inhabitants of the labyrinth were feral cats, nesting in every nook and cranny and said to lead intruders astray. The Lady Dolcinia was fond of cats. She and her husband, Markus Eclipse, had raised the Strange Manse in the twentieth year of the Dark Age. They’d treated with the Sinister Black Cat spirits they’d found here and were given a small army of feline protectors. Unfortunately, I’d learned that this protection applied only tentatively to subsequent elders of the Dark Harbour.