Kal Moonheart Trilogy: Dragon Killer, Roll the Bones & Sirensbane

by Rob May

  Which, of course, he did. Whenever a player had all their counters in their home corner of the board, it was simply a matter of rolling the dice and bearing off the pieces one-by-one. The Magician had whisked away five of his fifteen counters already before Kal managed to get all of hers home. The Magician turned the doubling cube to read thirty-two.

  Kal had come too far to back down. She couldn’t afford to pay up either way, so if she was going to lose, why not go out in style?

  The spectators had gone silent now. Kal’s downfall was imminent; her life was forfeit and they were paying their respects by keeping quiet. The Magician had only two pieces left on the board—he would win next turn no matter what he rolled. It was now Kal’s turn, but she still had four pieces left, all of them gathered six points away from freedom.

  Kal rattled the dice in her shaker for a long time, watching the predatory look in the Magician’s eyes.

  ‘Double,’ she said, simply.

  The watching crowd gasped and groaned. They must have thought that this was nothing less than sheer masochism. The Magician surely must have suspected a trick at that point, but what else could he do? ‘Take,’ he said, accepting the offer. Kal could see a sudden flicker of doubt in his dark eyes as she set the doubling cube to show sixty-four.

  Sixty-four hundred doubloons rested on Kal’s final throw. Only a double six would allow her to move all four counters off the board. She looked the Magician in the eye and released the dice from her shaker, letting them tumble onto the wooden board.

  The dice were two of the set of four that she had purchased earlier at the vudu emporium. The other two were perfectly normal wooden dice, painted blue with gold spots, and even stamped with numbers that marked them out as a matching pair belonging to the gaming house. It was that pair that Kal had played with all night, after pretending to scoop them out of the pot when she had first sat down to play. The pair she rolled now though (and had also made use of on two other occasions during this game) were also blue with gold spots, with exactly the same number stamped on them, and exactly the same minor marks and scratches that the first pair had.

  There was just one small difference …

  The crowd erupted in shock and awe, and the Magician fell back in his seat as though he had been shot.

  Kal didn’t look down; her eyes never left the Magician’s.

  ‘Midnight strikes,’ she said.

  II.vii

  The Girl Who Got Burned

  The Magician raised his hand and gave a signal. A silent servant came over to the table and counted out Kal’s winnings: sixty-four hundred doubloons in various currencies: bags of coins, bars of gold and straps of bills.

  Kal stuffed the notes down her shirt, hitched the bags to her belt and clutched the gold bars to her chest.

  ‘Do not worry,’ the Magician said, sensing her new unease. ‘You are under my protection now. So long as you remain in Port Black, anyone who even thinks of robbing you—and I will know if they do—answers to me.’

  Kal nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘No, thank you,’ the Magician said. ‘It has been an agreeable and entertaining evening. If you want more where that came from’—he nodded at the gold in Kal’s hands—‘then please bear my offer in mind. I need managers for new gaming establishments that I plan to open up. Someone with such an expert eye for foul play would be most desirable.’

  Kal said nothing. She just nodded and backed away slowly. A dumb retort here could be fatal. What she really wanted to say was, You can take your job offer, stick it in your Sirensbane pipe … and smoke it!

  But instead, she turned and left. The street outside, despite being busy with nightlife, felt cool and safe compared to the Magician’s stifling lair. Kal sucked in the warm Island air greedily. The wind carried the smell of fried pork, and Kal felt the saliva rise in her mouth. She sought out the vendor and paid him with a gold coin. He barely had enough change. Kal walked up Main Street chewing on spiced, salted pork and rinds.

  She reflected on her success. Tomorrow morning, this whole chilling escapade would be behind her. Kal would take Lula and leave this strange world of magic, zombies and vengeful pirates. She would get word to Ben about the governor’s downfall, and let him deal with the Magician. She, meanwhile, would take care of Lula: Kal was certain that she knew how to free her of the curse, and of the tangle of lies she was caught up in.

  Lula! Kal’s heart surged at the thought of the Island girl’s flashing eyes and luscious skin. If there was one thing left to do before she could consider this whole affair over, then it was to win Lula over for good.

  And as with all of Kal’s battles, the key to winning this one would be in the preparation …

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Kal stepped out of Elizabeth Bonny’s Haberdashery fitted out from toe to top in brand new threads. She wore knee-high sealskin boots, black high-waisted velvet trousers, and a red and white striped silk shirt with an outrageous collar. Her belt was four inches wide, the buckle a slab of silver, and over her shirt she wore a black leather waistcoat with gold buttons. Kal’s money was now in a new leather satchel that hung at her hip, its strap over her shoulder. Her tricorn hat was decorated with feathers from some fearsome creature that Kal had never met, and didn’t ever want to meet: the giant carnivorous bird known as a roc.

  Kal strode up Main Street with such an air of confidence that the throng of people parted before her. At the edge of the downtown district, she paused, though. There was still one more thing to do in town …

  She about-turned and ducked down a side-alley, heading towards a sign over a shop that showed a mermaid coiled around an anchor. Inside, a brawny pirate was laid out on a couch, shirt off, while another man bent over him, wielding a long needle in one hand, and holding a pot of dark blue liquid in the other. Next to the couch were two buckets: one was filled with smoking ash, the other smelled of urine.

  ‘I’m nearly done with this fellow,’ the man with the needle said. ‘Take a seat. Look through the books if you want some ideas.’

  ‘I know what I want,’ Kal said. ‘I’ll draw it for you while I wait.’

  * * *

  As Kal crunched up the driveway to the mansion, she was struck by the stillness of the night. The skin at the back of her neck prickled, an accompaniment to the sore itchiness of her new tattoo. Everyone is just lying around in a drunken stupor, she told herself; but even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was storing up its evil power and preparing to strike. The sooner she got off this island, the better.

  The entrance lobby of the Blue Mahoe was almost empty. The candles on the chandelier had burned themselves out, and Captain Dogwood sat alone at a table lit only by a single candle. In the shadows cast by the moonlight, Kal could make out the two teenage members of the Swordfish’s crew. She only knew them by the names of the gods they had played in the pantomime at the equator: Whalo and Vuda. They were kissing passionately in an alcove under the stairs. Surely a good omen, Kal thought, smiling.

  Dogwood caught the smile, and his eyes took in Kal’s new get up. ‘Successful night, Moonheart?’ he snapped. And then, as if she were a member of his guard: ‘Come on; report.’

  By way of an answer, Kal tossed the straps of money onto the table. Dogwood peeled off a bill and studied it by the light of the candle. Under the heat of the flame, the secret markings—a spiral of stars—became visible.

  ‘The Magician paid you with these?’ he asked.

  Kal nodded.

  ‘Might not be his, though,’ Dogwood said. ‘The gaming house might be laundering the cash.’

  ‘The Magician owns the gaming house,’ Kal said. ‘So, either way …’

  Dogwood nodded. Then he laughed: a harsh bark. ‘So it looks like I’ll be making an arrest tomorrow morning!’

  ‘Don’t,’ Kal said, putting a hand on Dogwood’s shoulder. ‘He’s dangerous. Leave town tonight with me and Lula.’ Kal looked around. ‘Where is she, anyway?
’

  Dogwood shrugged off Kal’s hand. ‘Don’t tell me how to do my job, Moonheart,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to make up for my, er, lapse in judgement. I’m never touching a pair of dice again. Your friend’s upstairs, anyway. Last I saw her, she was downing shots with that pirate, Azul. They were making a game of it.’

  Kal cursed and went to the stairs. The silent darkness above taunted her imagination with a thousand terrible things. She ascended slowly, stepping over a drunken sailor, whether from the Swordfish or the Drago Azul, she could not tell. In the east wing, all the doors were shut except one, and from inside the room Kal could see a faint glow, and hear a snuffling, scratching sound.

  She crept closer as silently as she could. It was a good job her new boots were soft leather and didn’t squeak. She inched her head around the doorframe and saw …

  … Sea Dog rolling around on the blankets. Dead Leg’s head appeared from behind the opposite side of the bed.

  This was not Dead Leg’s room. ‘What are you two doing here?’ Kal said. ‘Where’s Che?’

  ‘Probably with his new girlfriend on the other side of the house,’ Dead Leg said. ‘We were just, um …’

  Kal noticed that Dead Leg’s arm was under Che’s mattress. ‘Are you looking for drugs?’ Kal said. ‘Hell, Dead Leg—Che was the cleanest person on board. Well, so long as you don’t count that horrible ganja he liked to smoke. But it’s Sirensbane you’re after, isn’t it?’

  ‘Er, yes!’ Dead Leg quickly agreed, which immediately made Kal think he was lying. ‘As captain,’ he continued, ‘I have a responsibility to ensure my crew aren’t, um, over-indulging …’

  Something suddenly clicked in Kal’s mind. ‘Oh, cut the crap,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve just realised what it is you’re really looking for—’

  But before she had a chance to say what, they were interrupted by a cry from further down the corridor.

  Lula!

  ‘Come with me,’ Kal ordered Dead Leg. ‘Azul’s got Lula.’

  Dead Leg gave Kal an odd look, but shrugged and followed. Together, they approached the door at the end of the corridor. There were sounds coming from within; sounds of a scuffle. Kal put her hand on the door handle, and suddenly realised that she was unarmed. ‘Give me your knife,’ she said to Dead Leg.

  ‘Let me handle any trouble,’ he insisted. Kal turned the handle and opened the door a crack.

  She quickly shut the door again, and leaned back against it, her eyes wide.

  Dead Leg had a revolting grin on his face. ‘Seen enough yet?’ he said.

  Kal had seen far too much. Lula had been on the bed, naked, on her knees, her hands gripping the iron rails of the bed frame. Azul had mounted her from behind, his gold jewellery clinking as he thrust in rhythm with Lula.

  ‘Lu,’ Kal sighed, half in disappointment, half in regret. She staggered back to her own room in a daze. There was nothing to do now but throw herself onto her own bed and wait for this new storm to blow itself out.

  She grabbed her pillow to wrap around her head in an attempt to silence Lula’s yelps of pleasure and Azul’s grunts. But the second before she did, all hell broke loose …

  She heard windows smashing downstairs, and shouts and screams that definitely weren’t ambiguous. Dogwood was calling her name: ‘Moonheart! Help, damn it!’

  Kal sprang off the bed, grabbed a weapon from her chest, and ran down the corridor to the balcony. Dead Leg was there, as well as Jako and Bosun. A large naked man had followed Bosun out of her room, his enormous manhood swinging between his legs.

  The kid who Kal only knew as Whalo was running up the stairs, his face wet with tears and blood. ‘Zombies!’ he wailed as he reached the top. ‘They got her!’ Kal and the others looked over the balustrade. Below them, Dogwood was standing in the small circle of candlelight, fending off four zombies with his sword and an upturned stool.

  The girl Vuda was lying on the floor at Dogwood’s feet … in pieces in a puddle of blood. She had literally been torn apart.

  Another window smashed, but this time it was somewhere above them.

  The Blue Mahoe was under siege.

  II.viii

  The Reaping Wind

  Kal didn’t bother with the staircase; she leaped up onto the balustrade and launched herself off, grabbing the extremities of the chandelier with both hands. The giant crystal and iron structure groaned as Kal’s weight dragged one side down. When she was hanging as low as she was going to get, she let go and dropped to the ground floor, landing on a divan so hard that the stuffing popped out and the wooden frame broke in two.

  Kal was now directly behind two of the zombies that were threatening Dogwood. She pulled her weapon out of her belt and swung it in a wide arc. The weapon she had grabbed from her chest was her meat cleaver, and she smashed holes in the back of each of the zombies’ skulls. Ashen brains poured out of the rents like sand out of a split sack, and the zombies dropped to their knees.

  Kal turned to Dogwood, who was struggling to fend off one of the other creatures; he had just run it through with his sword, and was now wondering why it wasn’t dead yet. ‘Chop its head off!’ Kal suggested, then left him to it, bounding back up to the balcony three steps at a time.

  She passed Jako and Bosun, who were heading down to deal with the horde of silent, slow-walking undead that was filing through the Blue Mahoe’s smashed-down front door. Most of the zombies were dressed in simple villagers’ clothing, and if it wasn’t for their bleached white skin, dead eyes, and unwillingness to knock, they might just have been workers out on the town, looking for an evening’s entertainment after a hard day in the fields.

  Kal found the first floor overrun with zombies now, too. Dead Leg was in command, shouting orders to those of his crew who had managed to rouse themselves. Bosun’s courtesan friend was also taking charge, trying to organise the Blue Mahoe’s own crew into a protective huddle. Kal dodged through the fray and sprinted down the corridor to Lula’s room. She yanked open the door just in time to see the window panes opposite bulge and explode inwards. She jerked back, pulling the door shut again just in time—there was a rapid thud, thud, thud as shards of glass embedded themselves in the wood.

  She opened the door again cautiously. A hot wind—the Reaping Wind—gusted in through the broken frame of the ceiling-to-floor windows. Three zombies stood on the ornamental balcony outside. Azul and Lula had managed to roll off the bed to avoid the flying glass, and were lying in a tangle of sheets on the floor.

  Kal went straight to deal with the intruders first, hacking at their arms and hands as they lumbered into the room in a tight group. Three on one was too many though, and Kal found it tough to land an effective blow while trying to avoid six grasping hands. One of the zombies batted the cleaver out of her hands.

  ‘Stand back!’

  She instinctively responded to the offer of support, and stepped aside to put some space between her and the zombies. Azul had risen from behind the bed and was holding a pistol out in front of him. When Kal was clear, he fired. There was a loud bang and a great deal of smoke as the powder in the gun’s chamber exploded, sending a ball of lead smashing into one of the zombies’ skulls. Bone fragments and dust went everywhere, and the remainder of the zombie’s body crumpled to the floor.

  ‘Thanks!’ Kal said, waving away the smoke with her hand.

  ‘The wardrobe!’ Azul said. ‘My other guns. They’re loaded!’

  The large mahogany wardrobe was just behind Kal. She pulled open the doors and grabbed a pistol from the bandolier hanging inside. The surviving two zombies were ignoring Azul and still coming after her; Kal backed up almost inside the wardrobe as she raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  ‘Cock it!’ Azul shouted.

  Kal was flustered. She fiddled with the weapon as the zombies lurched ever-closer. It was a flintlock pistol: Kal had seen them before but never used one herself. But when she pulled back on the flint-tipped hammer, she heard it
cock with a satisfactory clunk.

  The zombies were almost on top of her. Kal put the muzzle of the gun to the nearest zombie’s forehead and pulled the trigger. This time the gun did fire: Kal watched, almost in slow-motion, as the hammer was released, dragging the flint along the tongue of metal that rose up from the lock plate, sending a shower of sparks down onto the firing pan. Kal almost dropped the gun when it went off. Another zombie head disintegrated.

  Through the smoke, Kal saw Lula appear behind the final zombie and drive her dirk through its brain, pinning the zombie to the door of the wardrobe. She had a wild grin on her face. ‘You know I don’t mind you barging in to watch, Kal,’ she said, ‘but you didn’t have to bring these creeps with you.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Kal said. Lula’s eyes were dark and shining; she was high on Sirensbane. Kal gave a Azul a sidelong glance; he was busy reloading his guns. We have to go, she mouthed to Lula.

  Azul looked up from his weapons. ‘Now that you are here, Drago Matador,’ he said, ‘maybe you could stay, and between us we make some more explosions!’

  ‘Shut up!’ Kal repeated. Azul was stone cold sober, she noticed—so much for the plan of getting him drunk and escaping. ‘I think you should attend to the safety of your crew, Captain,’ Kal suggested. ‘This place is being invaded by zombies.’

  Azul pulled up his breeches, slung on his bandolier and rushed from the room.

  Kal went in the opposite direction: to the balcony. She looked down; it was an easy drop into the ferns below, via the low springy branches of a papaya tree.

  ‘What about our crew?’ Lula said as she pulled on her boots. ‘I’m not leaving until they’re safe.’

  Kal sighed with impatience. She didn’t care about anyone but Lula, and even Lula was testing her resolve now. She had made a promise to Lula and nobody else. Dead Leg and the others only had themselves to blame for getting involved in the Magician’s empire. There were no innocents here tonight.