by Simon Archer
“I could help her,” my witch replied. “A full coven could lay that hex hard over this whole region, but then we’d be nigh useless when it came to fighting our way through the bowels of Layne’s ship. At least, this way, you’ll only be down one witch.”
“Ye expect it’ll knock her out o’ the fight?” I asked.
“Aye, most certainly,” Mary replied. “Especially since the hex is anathema to what she is.”
“She be targetin’ herself, too, then. Since she happens to be undead?” I spoke aloud as I processed what Mary said.
She nodded, and I scowled. It was a move for the greater good of the attack, but I still didn’t like it. I was trusting on my own fighting abilities, as well as those of Mary and Tabitha, and Ember’s and Mary’s magic, now.
“Ye expect me to stand by an’ let ye stomp through yon sea citadel alone?” Bord growled from the door. “I ain’t a witch, but I’ve two carbines, four pistols, an’ an axe, plus a suit o’ mail I’m about to see if I can still fit into.”
“Fine,” I said. “Welcome aboard, ye barmy, stunted runt.”
He snorted laughter. “The girl’s upstairs with two o’ me men. They’ll help her down once she does what she means to do.”
“Good. Methink’s I’ll be closin’ the shutters, soon.” I gazed out at the ships ahead. They’d had plenty of time to turn broadside on, and we were sailing and steaming right into it. At least some of our ships were reinforced with magic, and some of the pirate captains had renegade or Sisterhood witches aboard. Like as not this wouldn’t be the slaughter the Admiral expected, but it wouldn’t be pretty.
“How close do we need t’ be?” Tabitha asked as we drew even nearer to the ominous line of ships.
Around us in the water, corpses of fish floated like small islands of death. The air stunk like rot. What in the hell had Layne done to bring his ship to horrible life?
“Soon, I think,” Mary cocked her head and seemed to listen. “Aye. It begins.”
I let my gaze shift once more. The hex that Rhianne planned to use wasn’t a long or involved one, but it was a powerful one. I’d seen what it could do firsthand when she sent Arde’s crew back to hell in the wake of the Commodore’s second death, but I hadn’t seen how it looked from the spirit plane.
The incantation sprang to my mind unbidden as I gazed out at the death-infested waves before us. Above, vast as the horizon, another shadow grew, spreading as far as the eye could see. In one hand, it clutched a scythe, and while I watched, drew back and swept the insubstantial blade through everything before us, then faded.
All the lesser dead were swept away, and a great groan and howl went up from the ships ahead. I pushed the lever forward as far as it would go. This was our chance. As the ironclad accelerated, I reached over and cranked the shutters down, leaving only the barest of slits to see through.
Moments later, a dwarf of Bord’s crew rushed in. “She collapsed as she said,” he reported. “We carried her t’ the bunks an’ laid her down.”
“I shall see to her before things get too bad,” Mary said as she rose from her spot.
As if her words tempted fate, the rolling thunder of the broadsides arrayed ahead of us sounded, and flashes of green fire erupted from the traps of the ghost ships.
“Fuck,” Mary swore and disappeared quickly below to see to the undead witch.
All of the ships on our side that had them opened fire with their bow chasers. Adra’s elementals manifested then, waterspouts burst into being between the enemy and us, deflecting some of the eerily burning cannonballs as they arced in. A few did strike home, rebounding from the ironclad’s hull with tooth-jarring clangs that resonated like the inside of a bell.
Bord chuckled. “Ye see, Cap’n. ‘Tis like to drive a man mad, given time.”
“See to yer guns, Cannonmaster,” I said, intentionally disregarding his comment. “Fire at will as we break the line.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” the old dwarf snapped brightly and stomped off.
“Prepare for boardin’, too,” I called after him. “I ain’t stoppin’ ‘til our ram is stuck in the hull o’ The Pale Horse.”
Tabitha’s ears were pressed back flat against her head as the impacts echoed through the metal hull. The ship rocked a bit under each one, but she lived up to her name. “Maybe this was not the best choice I ever made,” the feline said weakly.
“Won’t be long,” I told her, gazing out ahead before reaching for the speaking bell. “Brace yerselves, lads!”
One of the ghost ships loomed before us, growing closer with each passing moment. I fired up the cutting blades that augmented the ram and set myself, suiting actions to words as The Echo steamed ahead.
The ship in our way started to move from our path, but it was too little, too late. A sudden impact drove the prow of the ironclad down, but she popped right back up. Blades tore through wood, and the momentum carried us on past, shoving the Imperial ship aside like a toy with her hull opened up and her rudder destroyed.
Even braced and ready, both Tabitha and I nearly lost our footing as the ships hit. The dwarves at our cannons were ready, though. A booming roar echoed deafeningly through the interior of the ship as they raked a broadside through the enemy ship as we steamed past it.
A ragged cheer went up from the cannon crews, and I knew we’d managed to strike a blow for our side.
More ships loomed ahead, piling up ahead of us as if directed by a malign intelligence. Layne must have been aware of us and had no qualms about sacrificing his forces in an attempt to lock us down and keep us away from The Pale Horse. That meant that he must have seen through my strategy, but I didn’t care. I was committed to the course now and would see it through.
We struck the next Admiralty vessel amidships and shoved her back, the grinders ripping apart her hull as we punched on through. Then another impact, and another.
The Echo slowed, and I swore loudly and reached over to drag the lever backward, reversing course to free us from the blockade.
“Boarders, Cap’n,” shouted a dwarf from the rear.
“Batten down the hatches an’ keep ‘em back,” I roared and looked over to Tabitha.
She nodded, drew her sword and pistol, and left the wheelhouse to help repel boarders. I had expected a fight, but not one from men unafraid to die. The sheer number of men that died to create this death fleet of Admiral Layne’s boggled the mind.
Slowly, the ironclad backed water, shedding the broken ships. I’d have to make room for another run if I could. Through the slits in the armor, I watched traps open on the hull of The Pale Horse before flashes of green fire, and smoke filled my vision.
35
Even the balls from The Pale Horse’s cannons rebounded from the armored hull of The Echo, much to my surprise and pleasure. The afterimages of the muzzle flashes still played in my vision as I guided the ironclad backward. The ships I’d hit listed and sank, although they still moved, and the undead crew still went about their duties aboard.
Either they had been incompletely converted, or Rhianne’s hex had worked well. Either way, two of the enemy ships were well on their way to being out of the fight.
Figuring I’d put enough space between my ship and the rest of the blockade, I jammed the throttle lever all the way to full speed forward as gunshots rang out in the space behind me. Weapons and fists banged on the traps and the bulkhead doors, but we stayed buttoned up.
Faster than any ship should have been able to reload, The Pale Horse turned a bit, her sails fluttering as her hull seemed almost to undulate like the flank of a sea monster. Cannons boomed, and I craned my neck to see a few of my side’s ships take solid hits, the burning cannonballs setting decks and cloth and sailors aflame. One took a powder hit and blew into flaming flinders.
We had to end this, and soon. The waterspouts that Adra had called, along with the Gale, aided and hampered us both. I clenched my teeth together in determination as The Echo began to accelerate once more.
&n
bsp; That was when a burning galleon swept ahead of us, her sails flapping madly under witchwind. It was The Witch’s Promise, undead dueled with the few sailors left upon her deck, and Bloody Bill himself manned the helm, his dark hair flowing madly as he looked straight at me. Behind him, Cerridwyn stood like a statue, her arms upraised as she directed the gale-force witchwind that drove the galleon full speed at the blockade.
“Give the bastard what for!” I heard Bill yell, then he burst into mad laughter as the ship plowed into the blockade ahead of us. He plain ran one ship under, plowed another aside, and ground to a halt against a third. Surrounded by the enemy, The Echo accelerating in his wake, he’d done what he could to clear the way.
I had to give the bastard credit for bravery. The dead on the adjacent ships converged on him as I tried to adjust course to aim for the edges of the blockade. There wasn’t much room, but--
The sudden explosion of The Witch’s Promise caught me by surprise. Apparently, the fire had been close to her powder room, and whether Bill had known or not, he had placed his ship in the perfect spot. She went up in a spectacular conflagration that engulfed the surrounding ships, setting off a chain reaction of detonations that, mostly, cleared the path ahead of enemy combatants.
I’d raise a mug to the crazy bastard later, but the Pirate King had bought us the time and clearance I needed to set a course dead ahead at the growing flank of The Pale Horse. More cannonfire raked our deck, and I heard the underlying timbers crack under the continued bombardment. We couldn’t take much more, but we were almost there.
Another Imperial ship came out of nowhere and swept between the ironclad and the Admiral’s ship, all her traps open, and two decks worth of cannons opened up on us.
Once again, the armored shell held, but the ram mechanism picked up a grinding rattle that disconcerted me. Not just that, but the sounds of fighting to the aft hadn’t diminished nearly enough for my liking.
Still, there was nothing to be done but keep steaming forward. The enemy ship was reloading while I bore down on her, holding her ground as the last possible impediment before I tore into the side of the city-ship.
Then, once again, the unexpected happened. With a roar, Tiny emerged at the aft of the Admiralty ship, dove under, and bore the vessel bodily out of The Echo’s way. I caught a brief glimpse of Ligeia, who gave me a wave, before she, the Dragon Turtle, and the last obstacle were borne out of sight and definitely out of the way.
My heart swelled with pride and determination, and I let out a bellow of my own as I yelled, “Brace and prepare to board The Pale Horse!”
Moments later, the reinforced ram and grinding blades that tipped the prow of The Echo crashed into the enchanted white timbers of The Pale Horse’s hull. Dwarven ingenuity, driven by magic and sturdy mechanical devices, warred with unholy enchantments… and overcame.
Splinters and shards of wood erupted, spraying a blackish ichor that splattered like some sort of foul, corrupted blood over the ironclad’s deck. The creak of the tearing wood sounded like nothing so much as a shriek of anger and pain. I was thrown forward against the wheel, then back as the ironclad was lifted bodily from the water by the roll of the city ship’s hull.
In that instant, the smaller ship slid deeper into the wound she’d created and lodged like a blade in the massive vessel’s flank. That was our cue. I cranked open the shielded shutters, drew my greataxe, and bounded out through the unconventional exit.
Tabitha, Mary, Ember, and Bord followed. The three women took a defensive posture at the prow of The Echo, holding their positions while I helped the cannonmaster out of the wheelhouse.
He gave me a grudging nod of thanks, and the five of us moved forward into the black interior of Layne’s ship. We had to clamber down and make our way over shattered, bleeding timbers to finally get clear of the ironclad. A creaking of wood and a strange whispering presence surrounded us. We were inside, and the intelligence that possessed the great warship was enraged.
“So, which way?” Bord asked in a grating whisper. He held his shining, blade-tipped carbine at ready and glared off into the shadows of the deck that stretched off ahead of us.
Mary shook her head. “There’s too much here for me to sense,” she replied and looked apologetically up at me.
“Damn,” I growled as I reached out with my own second sight and was quickly overwhelmed.
“Try this,” Tabitha stepped up and pulled a scrimshawed skull from a leather bag.
“When did ye take that?” I demanded.
“Back at Insmere,” she replied. “I had a thought that he might be useful to us.”
The eyes of the skull glimmered faintly in the darkness, then sprang into a steadier light that swept without being directed over the reinforced walls, struts, and braces that made up this lower deck.
Off in the distance, something shuffled and growled. The guardians were coming.
“Alright, ye old fart,” Tabitha whispered to the skull before I could express my displeasure. “Can ye help us find the heart o’ this damned thing?”
One of her ears flicked suddenly. “Ye’re sure? Thank ye.” Then the Ailur gave me her most winning smile and pointed. “Up the stairs that way. We’ve several decks to pass through, an’ quite an array o’ guardians, but ol’ Kurle can get us there.”
“I’ll be damned,” I muttered. “Fine, lass. Ye be forgiven before ye be charged. The both of us will lead, then Mary an’ Ember, with Bord takin’ the back.”
“Good by me,” the dwarf said as the others nodded.
We all formed up and started cautiously off into the black darkness of the hold, for that’s what this had to be. Tabitha slung the bag with the skull so that it could shine the lights of its eyes off into the surrounding blackness.
Of course, it brought the guardians right to us. Pale, lurching shapes charged us from all directions. They wore the damp and pus-stained remains of Admiralty uniforms and were obviously once men, either sailors or maybe even marines. There were lots of them, and they came at us without any regard for their own safety.
This was my element. I stepped forward to meet their rush and tore one man in half with a swing of my axe. The blow swept through and downed another, then I shifted my weight and went into a figure-eight that took down two or three more. Mary just spun into a dance of blades that would have been much more effective had her opponents been living, but she still reaped a couple of heads, and Ember backed her up with a wave of fire that actually drove the group back.
Bord blew the head of one sailor into a sticky paste of bone and rotten meat, then shifted his grip, broke the legs of another, and shattered its skull when it fell. I followed all that up with a charge and a sweep of my axe that carried me in a circle, but also left a pile of broken corpses in my wake.
“Come on!” I bellowed as Tabitha hopped over the fallen, but still moving, bodies, and thrust her cutlass through an undead sailor’s eye.
When she ripped it out, most of the skull came with it, and the discombobulated zombie dropped to its knees and fell over. I took off following her as she led with the magical skull, its shining eyes pointed in the direction we needed to go.
These dead were slow and shambling, pretty much mindless things that homed in on us as we moved. They fell to weapons, but the parts kept on coming after us until Ember hexed them to ash. Eventually, we reached the stairs and hurried upwards.
The next deck up held more of the mindless dead, and they swarmed us at a bottleneck. Tabitha was in the lead, but I grabbed her and shoved her behind me before the things could overwhelm her. Their tattered fingers clawed at my armor and tried to overbear me, but I planted my feet and let out a roar as I let loose and shoved the mass of them back by sheer main strength.
That moment and space let me bring my axe to bear and also gave the witches time to uncork. Minutes later, we made it through and continued upwards. The resistance mounted, though, each floor with more of the zombies. Our progress slowed, but we weren’t about
to give up and retreat. Besides, where could we fall back to?
Even with my armor, I’d taken some scratches, and the others weren’t unscathed either when we finally burst out onto a deck that had to be roughly in the middle of the enormous ship.
“Here!” Tabitha said excitedly, tapping on the skull and pointing off down one of the halls that led away from the stairs. “That way.”
“Good,” I grumbled. “Methinks Bord is tired o’ stairs.”
“Speak for yerself, ye massive git,” the dwarf threw back. “I’m right as rain an’ ready for more.”
“More drink, belike,” I teased.
“Can we just finish this?” Ember spoke up. “I’m not sure how much more I’m up for.”
“Right,” Mary put a hand on the other witch’s arm and helped her up the last few steps. Bord followed, keeping an eye downward for any surviving undead that might come after us.
This particular deck was less a hold and had a more worked feel about it. The walls were decorated, with scrollwork carved into the wood of the walls and ceiling. A white and gold carpet ran down the center of each hall, and lamps burned smokelessly with an eerie, green light. Glints of something, metal or paint, shone on the walls.
“Aye,” I said. “Let’s be off. The sooner we wrap up this, the sooner we can get back to Insmere an’ have that drink Bord needs.”
“That ye need, more like,” the dwarf said.
We took up our positions again and marched off down the hall in the direction Tabitha’s skull apparently indicated. It didn’t seem to be giving her any trouble, so she might as well have the damned thing. It wasn’t like I needed it, or that it would even talk to me.
This area seemed almost disturbingly empty as we made our way down it, but I had the almost cliched feeling of being watched. Ahead, the hall opened into a larger chamber, and at the furthest point of the chamber were double doors of an elegant, intricately carved dark wood that was inlaid with silver.
Between us and the doors, though, stood about ten cloaked and hooded figures. Three, at the forefront, were obviously female, and all of them wielded the long, single-edged knives that Mary preferred. Arrayed behind these three were six more, these bearing a more motley assortment of weapons, two spears, three sabers, and a strange set of claw-like blades that protruded from the sleeves of their robes.