“Ah,” he said. “In that case I should best head south to safety immediately.”
“I think not,” she countered. “You will stay here and do whatever I command.” The shadows in the workshop deepened, lengthened and hungry red eyes stared out at him. “I asked you to kill an army for me, and you will do that or die trying. Are we clear?”
He nodded. Everything was very clear indeed.
As she hurried off to spread the bad news and begin preparations, he looked at the twitching vampire torso. To ensure his survival, it seemed he would need to take some risks. He so hated to conduct blind experiments upon himself.
Aleeva endured the panicked slynx’s shredding claws to thrust her queen’s bleeding stump of a wrist into the brazier of hot coals used to light catapult-shot. In a war zone there was no time for surgery or to heat metal and cauterise wounds cleanly, so needs must. Even as Verena screamed and writhed in her first mate’s iron grip, she too recognised the necessity.
Her stump emerged still sizzling, a charred mess of flesh and coal dust. She slumped to her knees, teeth clenched hard to stifle more screams. It did not befit a queen to scream in front of her crew. Irusen curled tight around her neck, worried and purring solace, licking bloodied paws.
The Scourge of Malice’s sails and flags hung limp. The sea was eerily calm. The Lucent fleet floated aimlessly to the north, confused and impotent. To the west and south the remaining Awildan ships had already scattered to safety, far enough away from the unnatural stillness to catch the wind and survive what was coming. Or so she hoped.
Aleeva backed away, dabbing at blood oozing from her many scratches as the slynx glared its venomous hatred.
“It’s alright, my darling,” Verena said, her good hand stroking soft white fur. “Mother is fine.”
The glassy sea bulged beneath a dozen becalmed Lucent ships, and some slid sideways down the slope, listing and swirling. Sharks fled the area, fins cutting through the water in every direction.
The sea opened up beneath a Lucent warship and a torrent of water carried its crew howling in terror down into an enormous yellow beak that snapped shut with a crunch of wood and bone. Another swallowed a cargo hulk filled with screaming horses and their riders.
Vast octopus arms encased in a crab-like shell rose from the sea and wrapped around three more cargo hulks, squeezing and dragging their screaming prey down to hungry snapping beaks. More arms rose from the depths, snatching up anything living they could find, be they human or shark. Verena’s crew moaned with fear and kept away from the edge of the deck – as if a little wood would make any difference if it came for them. One or two even pissed themselves in terror.
“Behold the Kraken,” Verena gasped, voice bitter with regret. “Pray you never see its like again.” The vast and ancient creature was not a single entity, but a god-like being composed of many bodies, all working with one mind and one implacable will.
Her ship bucked beneath her and listed to port. The water churned as armoured limbs large as trees rose from the depths, spiked suckers contracting like mouths all along its underside. An enormous, bulbous head rose from the sea, water gushing off its carapace. Pulsing sacs expanded and contracted from between hard plates. Two vibrant metallic green eyes with black u-shaped pupils rose from the depths to gaze at Verena Awildan with inhuman interest.
Some of her crew threw themselves into the sea to starboard. They were fools but Verena did not have it in her to judge them for it. She waved her stump towards the floundering Lucent fleet. “I bid you let this ship go, then devour my enemies on the ships over there? I offer you my life to do this.”
The soft flesh visible between plates of shell shimmered a series of violet and pink, then deepened to flashes of dark blue, a visual language only the queens of the Awildan Isles had ever deciphered.
Verena bowed her head. Tears fell freely. Her heart ached as if she had been stabbed, an agony far worse than any severed hand. It didn’t want her – it demanded the life of another far more precious. “It is agreed.” The words felt like ashes in her mouth.
The Kraken flushed bright green and yellow, then plunged back into the sea like a falling mountain. As the Scourge of Malice lurched in the waves, Aleeva licked her lips and stared at her. “What dark bargain did you make with that monster?” she demanded.
Verena ignored the disrespect; her own heart and soul were far too wounded to care. “My next grandchild will be taken by the sea. For what purpose I do not know. In the face of the overwhelming Lucent threat, it is the only way to ensure the rest of my family will be safe.”
Aleeva said nothing but her eyes brimmed; Verena appreciated both responses.
Of the becalmed Lucent fleet, only the Falcon Prince’s ship was able to move, a sorcerous wind propelling it directly towards the monsters devouring the rest of his fleet.
The Kraken came up from below to smash open wooden shells of transport ships and feast on the humans inside, picking men up like sweetmeats and dropping them into snapping beaks.
Verena’s crew did not cheer, but instead were filled with relief that they would survive this battle. The Scourge of Malice’s sails billowed with a sudden strong wind – a gift from the Kraken – and she picked up speed. Her timbers shuddered and groaned, telling a story of damage deep inside.
Verena stamped her grief and pain down, not allowing herself to grieve until she was alone. “Send men below!”
Aleeva jerked into action, rounded up two crewmen and dragged them below. Verena could hear her sudden cursing right through the deck. She returned in a hurry, her legs soaked. “That blasted golden fire has holed us just above the water line, and the timbers below it are blackened and cracked. I expect they will give way sooner rather than later.”
“Can you patch it?”
“Already on it, My Crown. It won’t hold long.”
Which meant they would not have enough time to reach the Awildan Isles. They had to head south through calmer seas to the nearest safe landing and beach the Scourge of Malice while they made repairs. Verena thought the sandy bay downriver from Tarnbrooke was their best bet, but with luck the Scourge would hold together long enough for them to bypass that accursed place and reach one a few leagues further south. All they would need to do was take it slow and stead–
An unearthly shriek set hairs rising on the back of Verena’s neck. Golden fire bloomed to the north. “Spyglass,” she snapped, and Aleeva handed it to her. With her single hand, the pirate queen fumbled it to her eye.
Part of the Kraken burned, cored like an apple. The great armoured corpse slid off the Falcon Prince’s ship and down into boiling water.
The sea thrashed in agony, tossing ships to and fro. The Falcon Prince did not care; he stepped off his ship and floated there unconcerned as his fleet spun like leaves in a flood, shedding men and war materiels.
In the eye of her glass, the Falcon Prince turned to face the Scourge of Malice, and his hand lifted to point directly at Verena. His message was clear as day: “I am coming for you.” Then he lifted his hands sunwards and soared into the air.
He began to glow, to burn hot and bright. He grew large, encased in a mountainous form of holy fire as his Goddess manifested around him – golden armour around a soft and rounded female figure. A huge golden hand plunged into the boiling sea and ripped one of the Kraken’s bodies out, its armoured limbs smoking and blackening in his Goddess’ grip.
Verena felt her knees go weak and went to grab hold of the rail, but Aleeva was there to steady her and keep her from tumbling to the deck, for that arm ended in a stump now. Some of her crew fell to their knees, shaking, staring, praying to their gods.
The shrieking set Verena’s teeth on edge but it drove the rest of the Kraken into a fury, smashing ships and men as it fought to reach the being inflicting such pain upon it. Verena had little hope now that even the great sea monster could stop a fucking flying goddess made of holy fire.
She lowered her spyglass. “Head for Tarnbrook
e at all speed, and to Hellrath with the damage we take.”
She had no idea how much of the Lucent fleet would survive, but she had no doubt its leader would be coming for her after the hundreds of his men she had consigned to the depths. To survive she needed to hide behind another monster. If anybody could deal with that godly avatar then it would be Black Herran. She needed to be informed of the Falcon Prince’s capabilities so she could counter them – Verena’s general always had plans within plans, contingencies and extra cards hidden up her sleeves. This time she might need a whole set up her sleeve.
Verena turned her back on the screaming Kraken and drowning men, and focused on holding her crew, her ship and her sanity together.
CHAPTER 33
The last time Verena rode a horse she had been young and flexible and riding her husband’s placid prize mare. Now her hips ached and this dishevelled, ungainly farm beast could only charitably be classed as a horse; it was more donkey than anything, stubborn and depressed. After beaching the Scourge of Malice she had half-killed the poor beast by racing to Tarnbrooke. At least it was a sunny day, and that was likely all that was going to go right for her anytime soon.
She arrived on the rise above the fortified town with only half her crew marching behind her – the fiercely loyal half that had defied a direct order to run south and board ships heading back home to the Isles and safety. She also arrived with the beginnings of a fever. Her stump oozed yellowish fluids and was agony beyond anything but childbirth. Her missing fingers burned and ached, despite being at the bottom of the sea inside the Kraken’s belly. She endured it stoically, relying on willpower and copious amounts of alcohol to see her through.
The smell of the town hit them first: an overpowering reek of rotten meat. Her crew stumbled to a stop atop the rise, staring with dumb shock at the army of the dead forming just north of town: hundreds, all glistening bone, empty-eyed skulls and putrefying human flesh. A black storm-cloud of carrion crows boiled above them.
“Fucking necromancers,” Verena growled. Irusen curled tighter around her neck and hissed towards the undead army. She checked her barbed whip and knife were secured to her belt and then dug her heels into her lumbering mount, urging it onwards.
People were swarming over the walls, digging pits and setting wooden stakes in a last-ditch attempt to bolster the town’s defences. The gates swung wide and wizened old Black Herran herself was there to greet the pirate queen, gaudy rings glinting on every finger.
Verena had to be helped off the beast, and she wobbled over on cramping legs. She would have slapped Black Herran if she could – the fear of losing her remaining hand was all that stopped her. The slynx’s claws dug deep into her shoulder in warning, drawing blood. The little animal trembled as badly as it had when faced with the Falcon Prince.
Black Herran appeared pale and drawn, her skin papery with a hint of jaundice. She trembled, not with any kind of frailty but with barely-restrained energy. She glanced at Verena’s stump and dismissed it with a sour twitch of the lips.
Verena swayed on sore legs as the ground moved beneath her. Somewhere in town an old building cracked and collapsed. She wanted nothing to do with the sort of magic that could make earth move like water.
“I received your message, such as it was,” Black Herran said. “Set your crew to shoring up these southern defences and come with me, we have much to discuss.”
Verena walked behind her and in graphic detail imagined plunging her knife into that hunched back. As they passed a smithy, a sooty and sweaty man with arms like tree trunks stood at his anvil pounding glowing steel strips. Verena flinched as golden sparks died in the mud by her boots, thoughts of holy fire filling her mind. She’d had enough of biting her tongue and stewing in her own anger, and now didn’t care who heard what. “So Maeven’s hated brother is the Falcon Prince, is he? That would have been good to know.”
Black Herran misstepped and almost stumbled before she caught her balance using her walking stick.
Verena cradled her butchered stump of an arm and spat a yellow glob of phlegm onto the demonologist’s boots.
As hammer blows rang out and sparks rained down around them both, Black Herran turned and sighed. “All reports had him leading the land army to the north. I had no way to know he would choose to lead a handful of ships south.”
Verena spluttered in outrage. “A handful? He had over a hundred! And at least a dozen inquisitors with him.”
The demonologist’s eyebrows rose. “So many? Hiding so much construction must have been quite the task, but that just means more men drowning. From your presence here, I assume that you failed?” She held her hand up to forestall Verena’s rage. “I don’t mean that as a criticism. My little demon informed me of how powerful the Falcon Prince has become. I doubt any mortal could have stopped him.”
“Or immortal,” Verena snapped. “I savaged those bilge scum but many more survived and they will soon be at your walls.”
The demonologist’s eyebrow quirked, but she didn’t ask for further details. “This is no time for idle chatter. Your encounter may prove fortuitous if we can glean details of his powers. Come, let us discuss your revenge in detail. If you can, please bite your tongue about Amadden being the Falcon Prince.”
Verena’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “You will owe me a large favour.”
Black Herran nodded in acceptance of the debt, then hurried her to the temple where the others were waiting. Under the hard eyes of stone gods, they sat in war council with Lorimer Felle and Estevan, Jerak Hyden, Amogg Hadakk, Tiarnach and Maeven.
Black Herran waved a hand to one corner where her other guests sat: the locals of Tarnbrooke huddled in a nervous mass. “Deem and Healy, you will not speak unless spoken to. You are here only to carry out my orders.” They shot worried looks at the hulking form of Amogg Hadakk, who had recently crushed the skull of their fellow town elder.
Her eyes next fell upon the sweaty, fidgeting forms of two of the Tarnbrooke militia dressed in muddy chain and stained leather. “Hmm. Red Penny, is it now?” The girl nodded. “So be it. Red Penny and Nicholas Tiler, you are here to represent the military forces of this town. Speak your minds or lose your tongue later. Are we clear?” Two heads bobbed in unison.
“Estevan,” the demonologist said. “Your assessment of supplies and defence preparations?”
The old man stroked his neat beard. “We are low on medicines and properly trained healers, but we do have an adequate supply of bandages, needle and thread. We have plenty of arrows and spears but little in the way of serviceable mail or shields. Tom the smith has been set to produce steel bands to reinforce crude shields and wooden armour. It is little more than greenwood planks lashed together, but it may turn a few blows. The reinforcement of the southern palisade is nearing completion, and I have diverted men away from the north to dig defensive ditches there.”
Tiarnach snorted. “Aye, for all the good that will do. In the north, the Lucents rolled over stone walls and proper keeps without breaking a sweat – yon little wooden wall will only slow them down.”
“Time is all we need,” Black Herran said. “Red Penny, Nicholas, how fare the militia?”
They exchanged glances. As the silence deepened, Penny swallowed, looked to Tiarnach for courage, and then spoke up. “Training has been… hellish, but we’ll put up a good fight and kill as many of those Lucent scum as we can. We don’t have anywhere else to go, what with demons and slavers to the south of us.”
Black Herran nodded in appreciation. “I’m glad to see some townsfolk with sensible heads and stiff backbones.”
Nicholas mumbled something into his moustache, then spoke up when he realised it had been noticed. “Not enough of us though. They have better weapons, armour and training. They have an army of trained killers and we’re just simple country folk. How can we hope to win?”
Black Herran shivered and dabbed sweat from her brow with a handkerchief. “We don’t need to kill the whole army, just their holy k
nights and leaders. We will take care of that. The militia are to keep the rest of the rabble away from us.”
Amogg slammed a fist onto the table, cracking the wood. “I kill Falcon Prince. Cowardly human bowels will loosen. I take a hundred heads, build mighty cairn for Wundak and Ragash.”
Verena cleared her throat. “I wish you good luck with that endeavour. After my experience of fighting him at sea I am not so eager. The Lucent inquisitors are bad enough, but him…” She glanced at Maeven, whose brow furrowed. “He is something else entirely. I would rather fight a dozen of them at once over facing the Falcon Prince in the flesh.”
Maeven shrugged. “That man will die like all the rest.”
Verena pursed her lips. It didn’t seem to her that Maeven knew they were talking about her own brother. Black Herran’s eyes pleaded with the pirate queen to hold her tongue.
Verena winked and Black Herran relaxed. A debt from her would be well worth collecting; besides, anything that aided Maeven was not something Verena cared to facilitate.
Amogg rose to her feet. “I tired of talk. Talk, talk. Nothing but talk. I want to fight.”
“Mindless beast,” Lorimer muttered. Tiarnach overheard and his eyes narrowed as he reached for his sword.
“All of you settle down,” Black Herran said. “This route of invasion changes nothing. If anything, it means he should arrive with less men beside him. Queen Verena Awildan, please tell us of your sea battle.”
The pirate queen cradled her scorched stump as she related what her fleet had encountered, and the observed capabilities of the Lucent forces. “So, how do you plan to deal with the champion of the Bright One?” she asked.
Jerak Hyden decided at that moment to pipe up. “I could create a most wondrous–”
“Shut your yapping pie-hole,” Tiarnach said. “Aye, aye, you have your fancy dancy alchemy, wee man. All very impressive, so it is. You are a godless, soulless piece o’ shit and your presence stains this room. I want nothing more to do with you unless you can help me gut the Falcon Prince. Can you do that?”
The Maleficent Seven Page 29