The Gate of Eight Worlds

Chapter 13:The Freedom Fleet

The high storm-hatch at the top of the drainage tower gave way with a screech of rusted iron.

Caleb threw his shoulder against the door, shoving it open into the howling gale. Alex and Dwaho scrambled out onto the slick marble parapet first, gasping for breath as the cold, salt-laden sea rain washed away the soot and sulfur from the furnace chamber. Queen Natasha and Princess Rose followed, pulling the heavy hatch shut behind them to block the roaring updraft of trapped steam rising from the flooded works below.

High above the watch-spire, the dark violet clouds were torn open by the gale, revealing patches of pale moonlight.

Where the towering black-iron floodgates had once choked the Great Channel, a foaming wall of white water surged unimpeded into the open sea. Jagged plates of iron and shattered steam-pipes bobbed in the violent currents like floating wreckage. The suffocating pressure that had held the harbor hostage for weeks was gone, washed away by the roaring tide.

"Look!" Princess Rose pointed toward the inner reefs of the lower district.

Sailing through the newly opened gap in the channel came three massive war-galleys, their white sails emblazoned with the golden sea-serpent crest of Ollie’s Kingdom. Their heavy wooden hulls cut through the churning foam, flanked by dozens of smaller swift-rigged caravels. The royal fleet, pinned against the inner reefs only hours ago, was riding the outgoing surge into the open water.

A brassy, triumphant screech echoed through the clouds above. Barnaby swooped down through the driving rain, his broad golden wings tucked tight as he banked around the watch-spire before landing heavily on the stone balustrade. The crest-griffin ruffled his feathers, let out a low, satisfied click of his beak, and nudged Alex’s shoulder with his broad head.

"Good boy, Barnaby," Alex muttered, resting his hand against the griffin's wet feathers. The pale mark on his right palm still throbbed with a gentle, residual warmth, its golden light slowly dimming back beneath his skin.

From the lead war-galley—a majestic three-decked vessel named The Sea-Drake—a brass signal horn sounded three sharp, clear notes. The flagship turned its bow toward the high watch-spire, dropping its heavy linen sails to let its long oars pull the ship smoothly alongside the lower marble terrace.

At the bow stood a tall, broad-shouldered man clad in sea-green scale armor, his dark beard streaked with grey and wet with salt spray. A silver circlet rested upon his brow, gleaming under the pale moonlight.

"Father!" Rose called out, her voice cutting through the dying storm.

King Richard of Ollie’s Kingdom looked up toward the parapet, his stern face breaking into a wide, weary smile. "Lower the gangplanks!" he bellowed to his sailors. "Clear the deck for the High Keepers!"

Within minutes, the party descended the outer spiral staircase, stepping off the slick marble onto the sturdy timber deck of The Sea-Drake.

"Rose," King Richard said, stepping forward to pull his daughter into a brief, iron-ribbed embrace. "When the main dam collapsed, we thought the Sovereign’s engineers had blown the channel. Our scouts reported the furnace room was destroyed from within."

"It was," Rose said, stepping back to gesture toward Alex and Dwaho. "We breached the aqueduct with the Chosen King and the Keeper of Sight."

King Richard turned his sharp grey eyes toward Alex, his gaze dropping to the young man's right hand. Though the sun-fire had faded, the faint, crest-shaped scar was still visible against Alex's skin. The King dipped his head in a formal, deep bow—a gesture echoed by every officer along the ship’s rail.

"The House of Ollie owes you its crown, Your Grace," King Richard said, his voice deep and resonant. "The black-iron gates are shattered, but General Vane did not drown in the lower works. His iron dreadnought slipped past the outer reefs before the dam gave way. He is fleeing south toward the Deep Trench."

"He has the second key line," Queen Natasha noted, stepping up beside Alex with her hand on her sword hilt. "He means to lock the sunken palace from the deep water before we can reach the altar."

"He will not reach it alone," King Richard declared, turning toward his helmsman. "All sails to full wind! We hunt General Vane into the trench!"