Batal by Iain Richmond

Batal by Iain Richmond

Author:Iain Richmond
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781946807113
Publisher: Rogue Planet Publishing


CHAPTER 16

COCKLESS MONKS

The Aeolus’s sleek, twin wooden hulls skimmed the water’s surface. Her mast stood bare, the sail with its mighty head of a deerhound folded, rolled, and stored at her base. Vines clung to every vertical surface of the towers surrounding the ship. The coral gave up a few meters above the waterline, where the vines took over, many growing into the seawater without success, but still alive. The water was like a sheet with no break, change, or visible current; just a glassy mass flowing through what Amira had told him was once a great city of the Indian Empire. Each tower was once filled with the ancient ones.

Batal rested on his knees and elbows, studying the chart that lay on the deck of the wheelhouse. The Emerald Towers were clustered in the chart’s center. Batal erased a few lines and rectangles and redrew them as accurately as he could.

“The Arabian Sea?” he asked Jenna, who was manning the wheel above him.

“Old names without a namesake.” Her eyes darted left, right, then up as they passed the first two towers.

Batal tracked the tower off the port side. It rose hundreds of meters above them and disappeared into a light mist. Empty squares surrounded by thick green vines watched with empty sockets as the Aeolus and her crew floated by. What would people do in these structures? he wondered. Work, live, and surely die. They were depressing, dark, and dank-looking as far as he could see inside the square openings that were once fitted with glass and steel.

“Long ago, merchants like those of the Spice Islands sailed and traded throughout this area. They were Arabians, and their sea is all that remains, as their vast peninsula is no more.” Jenna motioned for Batal to roll up the chart. “The monks are clearing the openings.” She pointed to the tower off the portside. “See, the lower ones are free of vines.”

Batal gazed up the tower and into the sky. Fifty meters up a thick group of braided vines crossed over the water and into the tower off their starboard side. It sloped at an angle, disappearing into an opening. Similar vine groupings went back and forth as high as Batal could see until the buildings faded into the shifting mist.

“Where are the monks?” Batal then coughed. The hanging stench of rotting manure and only the gods knew what else, worsened with each passing second.

“Watching,” Jenna whispered without moving. The first towers were now behind them. “The vines.” She moved her head to her right.

Rising to his feet, Batal turned halfway then glanced over his shoulder. Painted white figures flew from the Towers. Each wore a green harness with a shiny rope that linked them to the vine above. There must be twenty or more, he thought.

“They’re not nocturnal,” Jenna continued. “And there sure as fuck are a lot of them. Something to add to your chart.” She adjusted the longbow fastened to the bulkhead above the wheel.

Farther up the deck, Drago lay on his stomach in full battle dress.



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