Overkill

by Steven Shrewsbury

  “At ease, son,” Thynnes said, but the young soldier relaxed little. “What do you make of this?”

  Eyes only on the two bleeding assassins for a moment, Ellis stared ahead. “Sir?”

  “I know your granddaddy was a damned wizard, Schuler, a great friend of Lady Garnet’s uncles. Unfortunately, he refused to adhere to the new edicts and got barbecued for his beliefs.”

  “Sir?”

  Thynnes exhaled in frustration. “Drop the fuckin’ stupid act, kid, we all know ya know the things of magic and that path.”

  Eyes still ahead, Ellis replied, “Possessing such knowledge would mean the rack and the stake for me, sir.”

  All of the soldiers chuckled and Thynnes glared down at the youth. “Tell me what you think this is, and that’s an order. Is it a Vardoger?”

  “No, sir. Such a thing is a spirit predecessor, where your self and scent get to a place before you do. Certain sainted figures can perform this at will, but it’s just a story for children, not to be believed by rational men.”

  The Colonel offered, “What about the Fetch?”

  Ellis jerked his head slightly. “No, sir. I’ve heard tell that a Fetch is a double for a man or woman, but it’s a signal of that person’s death. Once more, these are stories for children.”

  Weary, Thynnes said, “Doppelganger?”

  “I’ve heard doppelgangers are tangible bi-location body doubles, usually a harbinger of evil times or poor luck. However, these images are not of us, but I would guess they are images of sailors of the Admiral.”

  Thynnes asked, “Again, son, what would you guess they are, from your years of hearing tales on the wind? This shit jar anything loose?”

  Ellis swallowed, clearly understanding how the General planned to get more info loose from him. “Some hold something called a Capgras delusion that a relative or child has been replaced by an evil copy. Some think evil beings place a foundling in the crib and take humans under the earth for hideous upbringing and breedings.”

  Schou muttered to the Captains, “More like fears that one’s wife was lying low with another.”

  “Quiet, you dickheads,” Thynnes shouted and then faced Ellis, wanting him to continue.

  “This is more of a homunculus of a sort, an artificial creature grown as a copy.” “They don’t even know what they are?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Why not send the originals?”

  Ellis paused for a while and then said, “Such a copy isn’t made and the original set free to live their life, sir.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning their souls and original forms are forfeit somewhere.”

  “Why would someone do such a thing?”

  Ellis drew stiffer at attention again. “In exchange for something. These men were not a part of the bargain, just chips in a game of power.”

  Thynnes’ arms dropped at his sides. “And these men serve the Admiral and were originally sailors. I thought the Admiral out to just silence me if he attempted a military action, but his powers must be on for greater things. He sent these out knowing if they got caught, it wouldn’t matter much, but he’s showing his damned hand. He has sinister power on his side with a desire for something greater than just military strength.” He turned toward the sea, far out of sight. “And I sent that young lady out to the sea with him. Damn.”

  Schou wrung his hands before saying, “Might I suggest a course of action in catching them.”

  “You might,” Thynnes snapped, jaw tight. “Where’s that little ferret that came in with La Gaul?”

  “Orsen?” Ellis threw out, still at attention.

  “I’m getting too old to remember so many names. Where is he?”

  Schou shot hard looks at his Captains until one volunteered, “He stayed in Mysoline at a boarding house this morn.”

  “Not one for sleeping on the ground?”

  Schou said soothingly, “I think he acquired proper lodgings.”

  Thynnes exhaled. “Twat.”

  The Colonel blinked. “He’s not in the army, sir.”

  “Palace twat.” Thynnes waved at the encampment, his anger boiling at the events of the morning. “Damn it all, betrayal on many levels. Hell. This is what happens when the world goes in the crapper. Damn this very world to hell. May the god of gods truly fill this world with his piss. The sooner the better.”

  *****

  Once cleaned in the water-spewing closet of the Admiral, Alena pulled fresh underclothes from her roll and donned outer togs once again. She took up Gorias’ belt and pulled out the vial she saw earlier. In better light of day from the cabin window, she saw that indeed something humanoid floated in the amber-colored fluid. She couldn’t comprehend why Gorias had such an object with him. Revulsion spread over Alena as she wondered if this was a fetus of his own, an unborn child he kept for a morbid cause. True, she admired Gorias but what if something terrible lurked in his spirit?

  She checked from side to side, thinking of the previous vision from her crystal and how Gorias’ awakening stopped it. Alena had more time now as the Bahamut sailed on.

  Alena sat with her back to the door and took a small crystal from her belt pocket, then placed it to her forehead. She held the vial tight with her right hand and then took down the crystal to see what she could.

  Images of a robed priest and Gorias appeared in her mind.

  The smaller man with the pointed beard said to Gorias, “I know I’ve done wrong, enriching myself as I attained oils for Rhiannon. This act today will earn me forgiveness. If not, well, my damnation is assured, no?”

  Gorias gripped the vial. “This is the way ya want it?”

  “It must be so. This is the path to salvation I’ve heard in my dreams. Please don’t fail me, Gorias La Gaul.”

  “I’ll do my damnedest.”

  The priest mildly laughed. “Our god chose to give us life for simple supplications. The god of the dragonfire, though, sought destruction of all like most of his dire brothers have.”

  Gorias gazed down at the vial in his hand. “I hope this works.”

  “From out of the well of eternal harmony, I have drawn the very goddess herself. She has spoken the truth into my mind.”

  “From what you say she said, it sounds like a fatal, kinda endgame deal between her and Pergamus.”

  “You don’t believe, do you?”

  “That they are gods? No, of course not.” Gorias nodded. “I do know what they are.”

  “Perhaps that’s why she sent for you, a true apostate, for her destiny.”

  “Could be.”

  The vision ceased and Alena blinked, not realizing she hadn’t been breathing during her watching. Gulping in lungfuls of air, she tried to clear her mind. Hurriedly, she hid the vial, but in her own belt in the pouch full of dragonfire tablets.

  She left the cabin and let the sea air throw her long tresses back. Looking down the deck, Alena spied Rosman and Jrabesak. The Admiral, ever smirking, made a polite bow, then the Captain waved and spoke with his superior. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping the vision would return. It didn’t so she opened her eyes and searched the sea for the pirate vessel.

  *****

  “Ah, look,” Rosman murmured as he walked across the deck to join the Captain once more. “The Amazon dries herself off.”

  Jrabesak offered, “Perhaps I should propose her a more extensive tour below?”

  “Agreed.”

  “The Queen will take it personally if one of her fine guards is killed.”

  Rosman nodded, his face composed. “Quite so, Captain. A true pity she is about to be lost at sea.”

  Jrabesak turned from him. “We will soon overtake the pirates, within the hour, sir.”

  “Good.”

  “I’d say they’ll never know what hit them, but they’ll be well aware of their fate.”

  “Dead men know nothing, after all. Armory at the ready?”

  “They’re loading up now.”

  “Excellent.�
�

  Jrabesak cracked his knuckles. “Orders still stand?”

  “Yes. Sink one immediately, take the other one alongside us and reclaim the oils. This will be an act of sweetness to our Queen. ‘Twill be a shame all lives will be lost.”

  The Captain’s voice dropped. “The Queen’s heir, all of that oil, plus Gorias La Gaul will be lost when they go down.”

  “We will report that they put up a great fight. No witnesses.”

  “What if Gorias isn’t on the one that sinks?”

  “You fear a battle with the old fable? He’s not immortal. His string of bodies and sloppy tarts would leave one to think that way. He can die like any other.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rosman cleared his throat and turned toward Alena. He spoke to the Captain, though. “You’re from Toblok on the eastern border, correct?”

  “Yes, sir, we’ve talked of it before.”

  “That’s far inland for a man of the sea.”

  “The army didn’t cotton to me so I embraced the navy.”

  “And why breaking wind to Thynnes’ desires doesn’t bother you?”

  Jrabesak smiled. “Not in the slightest, sir.”

  “Very good, Captain.”

  After a salute, Jrabesak walked over to Alena and said, “I’d really like to show you how the turbines work that power our great Bahamut.”

  Pulling her streaming hair from her face, Alena relented and followed the Captain.

  *****

  Nykia lay atop Gorias in the hammock, which stretched nearly to the floor, not meant to hold his great size. She trembled often as if cold, but hugged so close to him he could scarcely breathe. Never one to complain, Gorias held her tight and kissed her hair. She kept her calf lightly pressed on his spent organ as if it would escape. Her weight was light, but Gorias cursed his aged state, knowing that her weight, however slight, tired him a bit after a while. Still, he’d endured worse for less.

  “Hope I didn’t disappoint you,” she said in a soft voice, one not like the tough she-pirate had used before.

  Funny, he thought, I was just thinking that myself.

  His right hand stroking her hair once, Gorias said, “How could you? Wonderful.”

  She snuggled up closer, reaching down and lightly gripping his limp shaft. “This is mine now, you hear?”

  Gorias couldn’t hide his smile. “Oh?”

  Nykia looked up at him with a serious expression. Her grip tighter, making his manhood stir once more. “Yes. No more whores, no more ladies in waiting, no more pirate girls. Mine, you understand?”

  “Huh. Here, and you said you couldn’t be royalty.”

  Nykia blinked, still gripping him. “What?”

  “You sound like royalty.”

  Some humor crept into her expression. “I mean it, Gorias. You’re all I ever wanted, all I ever dreamed of when some pig was atop me, or I rode a savage to ruin…or she rode me. I wanted you. I wanted it to be you.”

  “And a younger man wouldn’t do?”

  Her eyes focused on his, her hand starting to stroke him. “No. No one but you.”

  She pulled away and climbed atop him, trying to work his self into her again. As he entered, the hammock broke and they crashed to the floor of the cabin. Both laughed heartily and he seized her waist, recalling how muscular and firm Alena’s was compared to Nykia’s bony hips. He could feel her bones in his hands as she leaned back, determined to ride him on the floor. She really did feel like little Jenna, all those centuries ago.

  A fist pounded at the door and they ceased in motion.

  “A ship from the Transalpinan navy has been sighted!” a ruff voice shouted. “Come out here! We will try to evade but our number is up. There’ll be no escape!”

  “Coming,” Nykia shouted and then focused back on Gorias, grinding her hips down on him. “Not yet, but soon?”

  Gorias sighed and drove into her, figuring a few minutes wouldn’t make much difference if they all were going to die.

  *****

  Alena took the Captain’s arm and against her better judgment, went below the deck. The vast innards of the vessel impressed her, far larger than any ship she’d ever toured or been near. The hold yawned vast, large enough to hold a hundred horses she guessed, but it sat empty. That pricked her interest, but she let it go. Though some sailors eyed her, it wasn’t anything akin to wanton lust a la men who hadn’t doused their sea legs ashore in ages. Alena understood they oft went to Albion, where prostitution was legal, and then back home where Yannick’s balms for venereal disease were effective.

  Jrabesak, a gentle and gracious host, explained they could transport a great deal of cargo, arms, extra men and horses to an engagement.

  “How many sailors are on here?”

  The Captain pointed to a vast system of bunks and hammocks, all holding slumbering men. “Several hundred. They sleep in shifts and another hundred of them man the vessel.”

  Alena noted a multi-colored parrot whistling up at the nose of the column, but they were heading the opposite way. After several yards, she paused, nose wrinkling. “You keep stalls for cows here?”

  Jrabesak shook his head. “Very astute, miss, but no. Within these stalls are the opposite shifts for the turbine muscle. Our sailors aren’t they only thing that sleeps in shifts here.”

  “Why the bolts and locks on the stalls? Are your cattle prone to escape?”

  He led her on past the covered stalls toward the rear of the vessel. The closer they came to what powered the paddles, the louder a grinding sound came to her ears. A sweaty sailor saluted the Captain, eyed Alena, and then unlocked the door at the end of the hall. They walked down a hallway large enough for them to walk two abreast. She noted the long horns on the wall, like ivory trumpets or some trophy gained on a massive hunt afar off.

  As soon as the door opened the sound level rose, and the smell of a stable increased.

  They walked through and stood on a terrace overlooking the turbines. Two large iron bolts the size of stone columns protruded from the floor, terminating in the ceiling. Long shafts of metal, tipped in rubber grips extended out in four equidistant portions, each manned by a huge figure. Several rows of lanterns lit the scene and she clearly could make out what they looked like, but had no idea what they were. Their bodies, far taller and thicker than Gorias or General Thynnes, were built like muscled men, but sported a thick layer of brown hair…no, it was hide. Their legs, while humanoid, ended in hooves like a bull, their arms ended in hands, albeit sporting three thick fingers and a wide thumb, each. She expected their bovine heads and long ears to have long or curled horns, but these beings bore no such appendages. After a few moments and movements, Alena saw where these horns should be and her mouth dropped open.

  Yes, she thought, they should have them but they’ve been sawed off at the root. The Captain still gently held her elbow, but she cursed herself for giving off a chill. She couldn’t help it, not at the pathetic servitude of these beasts, but at the fact they had passed their horns on the way in. Did the sailors take them past their old horns each day before lashing them to the turbines? Her stomach turned like the mechanism they churned, somewhere hooking up to make the paddles beat the ocean into submission.

  “What are they?” Alena wondered, recalling tales of a Minotaur in her youth and in fables. It was then she noted they had no sets of eyes like a bull, but a single, slitted orb in the middle of their foreheads.

  “The Cytaurs are beasts of burden,” Jrabesak explained with a flippant tone.

  Alena turned, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

  “Well, they are now, my dear.”

  She noted one Cytaur on each turbine had a diagonal mark burned in his face across the eye socket. Alena swallowed hard, understanding fully that each of these two Cytaurs had their eyes put out, probably with a searing spearhead or iron appliance. Was this disfigurement for a revolutionary act or to remind the others that such things wouldn’t be tolerated?

  A
lena backed away a little from the side, noting the taskmasters down below. While these men had coiled whips and long bamboo rods nearby, presumably to strike the Cytaurs if they slacked in their paces, they sat, read parchment and boredom oozed from their pores.

  The Captain’s mouth opened, but the Bahamut made a sudden lurch in the sea, stopping his words. Alena registered panic, at first thinking they were struck, but swiftly banished such an idea.

  He said, “These rooms are heavily soundproofed. That’s why we couldn’t hear the mates running above us on the deck.”

  Still arm in arm with Jrabesak, Alena pulled free, went to the nearest portal and looked across the sea. “The pirates! We’ve caught up to them!” Her head twisted back to face the Captain. “We’ve fired on them!”

  “Because that’s what you do to pirates,” he said frankly and swung his right arm around toward Alena’s chest.

  Her lightning reflexes caught his wrist and stopped the dagger shot he aimed for her heart. He squeezed his left arm around Alena tight, pinning her right arm, and tried to intertwine his legs with hers. Not a bad fighter, she thought, certainly well trained and experienced. But Alena wasn’t a gentle flower. She yanked Jrabesak’s right wrist swiftly to her face and did a savage bite into his wrist. He let out a pained groan as she held his wrist in her teeth and released her hand, driving her left in a chop to his groin. His body contorted as the strike to his fruits made him sway in pain. She snatched the dagger from his hand as she drove her forehead into his face hard enough to feel something break in Jrabesak’s left cheekbone.

  The Captain let go and fell back against the wall. Before he could set his feet and compensate from the blow to his groin, Alena stepped back and kicked, extending her long leg in full, planting a foot in his stomach. This bent him over, so she moved in fast, grabbed him in a front-side headlock with her left arm and drove the dagger into the pit of his back with her right hand. He cried out and gagged as she threw him down.