Gates of Ruin (Magelands Eternal Siege, #6) by Christopher Mitchell (top 10 books of all time .TXT) 📗

Van glanced towards the horizon, where the coastline of Alea Tanton was becoming clearer. ‘We’re not going to make it to shore, are we?’

Silva gave a sad smile. ‘That would seem unlikely, Van. At least her Majesty is alive. She will be saved, as the Second Ascendant will take her back to Implacatus before the end.’

‘Then forget revenge; forget our plan,’ said Corthie. ‘We need a Quadrant, and there are Quadrants in Old Alea.’

Van pointed. ‘Look at the beach. It’s supposed to be high tide, but the water’s been pulled back.’

Corthie squinted into the horizon. A long, wide stretch of debris-strewn sand was visible right along the coast where the ocean met the city.

‘What’s going to happen?’ he said. ‘Should we warn the sailors? Where’s Sohul?’ He glanced at Van, but the former mercenary was still staring at the coast. ‘Van, snap out of it. Forget about tomorrow - how do we survive the next hour?’

A scream came from the rear of the ship, and they all turned. Corthie’s mouth dried up as he gazed at the view to the west. A wall of water was approaching, the roar from it slowly building. It stretched for mile after mile, and was sweeping towards the coast, a hundred feet high, towering over the top of the ship’s twin masts. It was moving at speed, far faster than the ship was sailing, and the gap between them was diminishing with every second that passed.

‘There’s no time,’ Silva said. She dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together as if praying.

Van’s hands went to his waist. ‘Unbuckle your belts,’ he said, ‘then strap yourselves to the railing. Quickly.’

Corthie stared at him as the roar increased. It began to drown out the cries of the panicking sailors until it was the only noise he could hear. Van looped his belt round the wooden beam of the ship’s side railing and wound it round his arm. Corthie undid his own belt, his fingers fumbling with the buckle as he tried to ignore the wall of water. The keel of the boat began to judder, then it lifted, the stern high, the bow low, and sailors began falling and skidding down the deck. Corthie strapped his left arm to the railing and hugged the wooden beam, his feet slipping as the gradient of the deck steepened. The hull was still rising, as if an invisible hand was pushing it up. Corthie reached out to grab Silva, but she tumbled away from him, falling towards the bow, along with sailors, crates, and anything that hadn’t been secured to the deck. The masts buckled under the pressure, and then they snapped in two, the rigging and sails twisting and tangling over the deck.

Then the wall of water hit them with a deafening crash, and they were engulfed. Corthie clung onto the wooden beam with all his strength, his eyes closed tight as the ocean swallowed them up. Something heavy struck his back, and his legs were lifted off the deck. He held his breath, his head tucked down by the railing, his arms in agony from gripping the beam. Water surrounded him, cold and dark, then the hull of the ship burst through the top of the wave, and he felt the wind on his face as the water drained away from the deck.

He opened his eyes. The deck had been wiped clean of sailors, and the two masts were reduced to stumps. The entire forward deck had been swept away, and the ship was still angled with the stern high. The keel groaned and twisted beneath them, and sections were tearing off as the water battered them. Corthie stared. The ship was riding the wave, and was hurtling towards the coast.

Next to him, Van was sprawled across the planks of the deck, his left arm still strapped to the railing. Blood was coming from a cut across his left cheek, and his eyes were closed. Of Silva, there was no sign.

Corthie turned back to the city of Alea Tanton. The speed of the wave was so great that they had covered most of the distance, and Corthie could look down upon the fields of Tordue that lay beyond the slums. He had survived the initial impact, but that was the easy part, he realised. Once the wave hit the coast, the ship would be flung forwards, and would land somewhere amid the crowded streets. He released his left arm from its grip round the beam, and pulled Van’s unconscious body towards him. There was nothing else he could do; nothing but cling on and hope.

The wave struck Alea Tanton with the force of a hundred earthquakes, overwhelming the first mile of densely packed city without pause. The ship’s keel levelled as the water level sank, then the bow lifted. Another mile passed, and the ship was pushed down among the debris and bodies that were churning the water. Corthie closed his eyes again as the deck was submerged. The keel struck something, and turned, twisting and grinding off the rooftops of high tenements. It snagged, and the force of the water ripped the hull in two, the bow continuing down into the maelstrom, while the stern came to a juddering halt on the long roof of a housing block.

Corthie opened his eyes again, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was still strapped to the railing, and had remained with the stern of the ship on the rooftop. Around him, the water level was falling, but still reached the upper windows of the block’s highest floor. He tried to stand, but his legs collapsed under him, and he fell back to the deck. His left arm was gripping onto Van, and he released the buckles on the belts that had saved their lives. His right arm fell limp to his side, the muscles cramped and aching. His entire body