by Mike Wild
“It’s time for a new dawn, Miss Hooper. A new era where you have no place.”
“Go to the hells,” Kali growled.
“No. Not I.”
He dropped his hand and the Swords fired. Multiple quarrels struck Kali in the legs, arms, torso and head, their impact so powerful she was propelled from the carapace, arcing backwards over the prow and then out into the dark waters below.
Freel moved to the edge of the carapace just in time to see her crash into the sea.
Kali’s body floated for a second, and then sank beneath the waves.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE BLACK SHIP sailed at midchime that night. The torches that had been lit all along the harbourside were presumably present only to keep the crowd that had gathered there warmed against the chill sea winds, for they made little difference beneath the azure glow of Kerberos.
It was tradition that all who worked on the construction of a vessel should watch it depart on its inaugural voyage, though in truth none of them were there by choice that night, roused from their beds by the Swords and forced to attend. Why the Church should insist they assemble for the occasion none could guess, for it knew how they felt about the ship’s presence in their town. To them, it was an abomination, unnatural, and, because of the many deaths that had occurred in the months it had taken to build, clearly cursed. None of the town’s doctors or apothecaries could explain why the cause of death in most of those cases had been severe burning of the flesh, though some speculated it had something to do with the strange devices with whose assembly they had assisted, or even with the mysterious mineral the Faith had imported into the town and loaded aboard by the ton under conditions of utmost secrecy.
As a result, there was none of the usual cheer and acts of celebration that would normally accompany such a launch, and as the ship’s ropes were cast off the people of Gransk regarded the dark hulk silently and with relieved expressions, glad that they would soon see its back. Maybe then, at last, their town might return to normal.
Kali trod water some thirty feet under the surface, her limbs moving slowly and lazily. The constant stream of bubbles from her breathing conch as she pulled quarrels from her flesh went unnoticed by those on the harbourside, though their shadows, backlit by torches and distorted by the surging of waves, appeared to be looming over her. Dammit, Kali thought. That had hurt. But the subtle gymnastics necessary to make sure the quarrels hadn’t hit anything vital had achieved her aim. As far as Redigor was concerned, she was dead, and the Black Ship would sail with its hostages safe.
Down here, the sounds of the Black Ship’s imminent departure were muted – a dull rumbling of engines and sporadic, almost ghostly clangs as its hull plating shifted – and the only sure way to tell the behemoth was about to sail was from the churning froth of its propellers and the slowly pulsing glow from the amberglow generators concealed beneath the ship’s plimsoll line. These orange blisters, two to port and two to starboard, looking from Kali’s distorted perspective like wavering suns in some alien sky, had presumably been what had made the waters boil when the ship had been launched, and with them acting as a boost to the ship’s sails, she reckoned that Brundle’s quoted sailing time of two months would be more like two weeks.
Kali wondered what the people of Gransk would make of the Old Race technology at play here. Doubtless they had been involved in its installation – as the ship’s builders how could they not? – but none of them could have truly realised with what it was they were dealing. The Faith had doubtlessly come up with some explanation for the strange sights they had seen, perhaps each would receive a visit from one of Querilous Fitch’s alumni and, following a brief but effective mind probe, simply forget everything that had happened.
Kali shifted her attention from the surface to the darker depths below her. She was pleased to note that she had positioned herself correctly as, from the shadows beneath her feet, a large and heavy shape hove into view. It trailed bubbles and silt from the harbour floor as it rose, and Kali kicked herself into position next to the thick chain to which it was attached. Brundle had remained secretive about how he was going to gain access to the Black Ship, and so had she, mainly because she hadn’t worked it out at the time, but the simple expedient of hopping a lift had come to mind not long after.
The Black Ship’s giant anchor, one of four that held its bulk steady, took shape as it neared the surface, and Kali grabbed at it through swirling silt as it passed. She was feeling quite pleased with herself for choosing this method, but the slight smile on her face was replaced by a look of shock as instead of touching the hard metal she expected, her hands brushed against something organic. She back-pedalled, involuntarily spitting out her breathing conch and gagging on water. The shock made her almost miss her only chance to reach the ship before it departed. Disregarding whatever it was she had touched, Kali lunged forward once more and this time felt the unyielding curves of the anchor’s hooks beneath her grip. Flustered – had she imagined what had just happened? – Kali allowed herself to be carried upwards by them for a second while she stared down into the wake of the anchor’s ascent and for a moment, just a moment, caught a glimpse of a silvery figure receding into the depths. She was just able to pick out its smooth features, its toothless mouth and the glowing nodules that hung from either side of its jaw – not to mention the fact that it was staring right up at her with eyes that seemed to penetrate her very soul.
Kali’s heart thudded. Her unexpected companion looked just like the creature – or at least the same kind of creature – she had encountered beneath the collapsing ruins of Martak more than two years before.
The End Comes, came the alien voice in her head. The Truth Awaits.
What? Kali thought. What? But she knew she was not going to get an answer, for her strange visitor was already being absorbed into the darkness below, and a second later it was gone. The words resonated in her mind but she quickly shook them away, knowing she had only seconds before the anchor on which she rode broke the surface. Trying her best to ignore what had just happened, Kali began to scramble up the body of the anchor, getting herself into a readied position.
SOME TWENTY FEET above, on the starboard stern deck of the Black Ship, Brother Kelleher stared grimly at the press-ganged men who had been ordered straight into service to struggle with the vessel’s anchor chains. He did not attempt to help as, sweating and straining, they heaved it from the water and the anchor began to rise up the sheer wall of the ship’s hull. On the port side of the stern, he knew, a similar operation was underway, and similarly two more at the bow. What Brother Kelleher did not know was that, unlike his compatriots elsewhere, his men were being forced to strain just that little bit more.
Brother Kelleher nodded to the men as the anchor rose into its housing and was locked off, and a moment later they were dismissed. The initiate remained behind for a second, watching the anchor spill water and turn slowly where it rested in its housing. He contemplated the voyage ahead – how he would be venturing where no one else had been, into strange and unknown waters, and all for the glory of the Final Faith. He reflected that it was an honour to be chosen to do this, and for a second bowed his head and prayed aloud, thanking both the Anointed Lord and the Lord of All for the privilege that had been granted him.
“I’m pretty much sure that neither gives a toss,” a voice said.
Brother Kelleher looked up. The anchor had turned fully turned round in its housing and, spread-eagled so that she matched its cruciform shape, a young woman hung upon it. It was difficult to make out her features through the plastered down fringe that obscured her forehead, but then she flicked the hair aside, slowly spat out a spout of water, smiled and winked. A fist swiftly followed these actions, but this Brother Kelleher didn’t really see coming, and he had no chance to reflect on the fact that he had been remiss.
KALI HOPPED STEALTHILY down off the anchor, landing in a crouch over the prone body of the Faith initiative. She delivered another swift p
unch to his groaning form, making sure he was out cold, stripped him and then quickly dumped him overboard. Far below, Brother Kelleher crashed into the harbour waters and, his underknicks inflating like a balloon, began to bob away on his own, unexpected voyage.
Kali turned back to the deck, lit by the ship’s running lights. The fact that she was still sloughing water like a naiad was a pain, but at least her dip had rid her of the stench of the creel, something for which Brundle, if they were eventually reunited, would doubtless be eternally grateful.
She slipped the brother’s robe over her own bodysuit and stared about, noting that in the distance the men dismissed by the initiate were entering the bulkhead, leaving that part of the deck clear. There was no one to notice, now, that she had replaced the brother, and as far as anyone seeing her from a distance was concerned, she would be taken for him. She walked to the ship’s rail to look back at the departing Gransk.
Oh gods, no, she thought.
Because from her perspective she could see what the crowd gathered there could not, namely that the guards positioned behind them were lifting the tall-staffed torches from where they had been positioned and wielding them like lances. She had her answer, now, to how the Faith intended to deal with the problems of the builders’ exposure to their secretive Old Race technology, and, unless she wanted to give away her presence, she couldn’t even shout out a warning.
The bastards were making it look as if this were an attack from those sea-dwellers who had raided more than a few coastal towns of late. Kali closed her eyes as the first of the people of Gransk were impaled on the flaming skewers and unceremoniously thrust into the dark waters below. She kept her eyes closed as those who turned at the cries of their friends were cut down by rapidly unsheathed swords.
Damn the Faith, she thought. Damn Makennon, damn Freel, damn them all. If this was the future of their Church, it had no place on her peninsula.
This ends. If not tonight, then one night soon. This ends.
The End Comes, she heard again. The Truth Awaits.
Kali took a deep breath and turned away from the scene of carnage, and it mercifully grew more distant as the ship’s amberglow generators began to pick up its momentum. Soon the sounds of screams from the shore were replaced by the rush of sea winds and the constant thrum of the vessel beneath her. Kali shivered. She had to get inside, not only to rid herself of the cold but because it was there that she might begin to find some answers as to what exactly was going on on this ship. On the latter, she didn’t act immediately, first finding herself a hiding place in the ship’s ballast bulkheads and venturing forth occasionally to work out the pattern of the ship’s watches and patrols so that when she did emerge, she could do so clandestinely.
It was two days, during which the Black Ship passed through the crackling maelstrom that was the Stormwall and she was forced to insulate herself from the electricity that danced through the ballast bulkheads, before she ventured on decks. There, she had two destinations. As it was likely that the ship’s crew knew little – if anything – of Redigor’s plans, one of these destinations was the elf’s cabin, which she had located towards the stern of the ship. Before that, however, she had a higher priority. This involved her travelling the length of the ship to where she had previously located a set of steps leading down to the cargo hold, where she suspected the prisoners were being held.
Having donned her Faith robe once more, she made her way as far as she could along the open decks, swapping from starboard to port to avoid patrols, and then ducked through a hatch back inside. Here she stowed the robe, the heavy cloth counterproductive to stealth and because it would do little to conceal her identity in the close confines of the interior anyway, and began to negotiate the corridors.
It was like beating a maze where no other wanderers were allowed to see you, but thankfully Kali had always liked mazes. She dodged left and right, right and left, pausing at corners and then moving on, sometimes only a second behind crewmembers in whose steps she silently walked. It took half an hour during which time she hardly dared breathe, but at last she came to the steps she wanted.
She headed down into the hold, three decks below, gratified to find that her suspicions had been proven right. The entire area below decks had been converted into a makeshift prison for the many brought forcefully aboard, kept in groups in cages laid out in a chequerboard style. Guards wandered the shadowy criss-cross of spaces among them and Kali was once again forced to ‘dodge the Filth’ as she worked her way towards the people she wanted to see. Others – people she didn’t know, just innocents who had spoken out against the Faith – rose hopefully as she slipped passed their cages, but for now there was nothing she could do to help or comfort them. Kali continued to move between the cages, inspecting their occupants, and coming at last to two adjacent cages which held her friends from the Flagons and Jengo Pim and his men. The fact that these were positioned the farthest back and together suggested that Redigor wanted those closest to her well incarcerated, but it also worked to Kali’s advantage as it was an area the guards only glanced towards occasionally.
Inside the first cage, Red Deadnettle caught a glimpse of her face and was about to holler out when Kali put her finger to her lips, silencing him. The huge poacher nevertheless moved eagerly to the bars, Hetty Scrubb and Pete Two-Ties squeezing in beside him. At their rear, Kali could just make out Martha DeZantez tending to the stretchered Dolorosa.
“How are you?” Kali whispered, glancing sideways to keep an eye on the guards.
“Could do with a drink,” Red shrugged.
“Me, too,” Kali agreed.
“They could have given me a cryptosquare, to pass the time,” Pete Two-Ties moaned.
Kali smiled; the man lived to complete his cryptosquares.
“Nihc,” she said.
“Pardon?”
“Chin up.”
“Oh, ha,” Pete responded, dryly.
“Personally, I would like to rip off their balls,” Hetty Scrubb hissed. The tiny herbalist was never at her best when unable to sample what she sold, and every sinew and tendon thrust prominently through her parchment skin. “Rip off their balls and ram them in their eyes.”
“You’ll both have what you need soon,” Kali said. “I promise.”
Red stared at her. Giant that he was, it was amazing how much like a child he looked. “Then you are not here to get us out?”
“Soon.”
Swallowing, she checked the positions of the guards once more, ducked momentarily into shadow, and then moved across the aisle to the opposite cage.
“About time you showed up,” Jengo Pim said. “We need out.”
“There are what?” Kali said. “Twelve of you? Twelve thieves locked in a cage and you can’t escape?”
“You can see that this is a rune-inscribed lock,” Pim hissed.
“Even so. I really should report you to your union.”
“Funny. Now are you going to find a way to get us out of here or not?”
It was only at that moment that Kali realised the reality that she had so far been denying to herself. Had denied to all of them. It was a reality she didn’t particularly like.
“I… I can’t.”
“Can’t?” Pim repeated.
“Think about it, Jengo. We’re outnumbered two, maybe three, to one on a ship we don’t know how to control, heading for a destination only Redigor knows the location of.”
“We can handle odds like that. And unless I’m mistaken, didn’t you and your people once take control of a spaceship? How hard can the Black Ship be?”
“If we take them out, we might not have enough people to run the ship.”
“Then we force some of them to run it for us. And Redigor must have charts.”
“We can’t take that risk.”
Pim thumped the bars, then eyed Kali carefully. “Just between you and me, these are just excuses, aren’t they?” he said quietly. “You want Redigor to get where he’s going.”
<
br /> Kali swallowed. She should have known it wouldn’t take someone as astute as Pim long to work out the truth. “I didn’t know you were all going to be here, okay? I honestly didn’t. But I have to reach Trass Kathra.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Pits of Kerberos.”
“Trust me, Pim. I think this ship needs to get where it’s going, for all of our sakes.”
“Even the old lady? What’s her name? Dolorosa?”
Kali took in a sharp breath. “Even Dolorosa.”
Pim took a second and then nodded reluctantly. “Promise me one thing. That you get us out of here before the shit hits whatever fan it’s going to hit.”
“Nothing’s going to happen until this ship reaches Trass Kathra, I’m sure of it. And when it does, I’ll have you out of there, okay?”
“Okay.”
Kali hesitated, bit her lip. “See you later, Pim.”
“I hope so.”
Reluctantly, Kali left the prison deck and made her way back the way she had come, all the way to the stern. Her second destination, Bastian Redigor’s cabin, awaited. The only problem was that Redigor didn’t leave his cabin. Not then and, when Kali returned, not for the whole of that day. Nor the next. Nor the one after that. Eventually Kali concluded that, for whatever reason, the elf was going to spend the entire voyage in isolation, and resigned herself to the fact that the information she wanted would have to be sought later.
Kali didn’t go back above decks for the remainder of the voyage, returning to her nest in the ballast bulkheads and spending her time foraging for discarded food, sleeping – as best she could on the violent seas – and befriending and feeding two sodden and sorry looking floprats she named Makennon and Munch. She also read through the journal Merrit Moon had given her in the World’s Ridge Mountains. Kali flipping the pages eagerly, as intrigued as much by the old man’s journey of discovery as the one she herself was on. The chamber from which she had rescued Moon was, according to his notes, the first of three which together formed the passage through the World’s Ridge Mountains he had speculated existed. The Hall of Tales was the first, the Hall of Howling Faces the second, and the third the Hall of the Mountain… thing.