by Rob May
‘Forget about them,’ Kal said. ‘You wanted me to save you; this is the only chance we’re going to get.’
‘They’re my friends,’ Lula said, angrily, holding her ground at the door while Kal stood waiting at the window.
‘Friends are a liability,’ Kal said. Right then, she meant it.
Lula didn’t reply. She gave Kal a cold look and left through the door.
Alone on the balcony, Kal was suddenly aware of the noise of battle and chaos all over the mansion. People were fighting for their lives in there.
‘Damn it!’ she said to herself, and went after Lula.
* * *
Kal stepped into a world of bodies and blood. The long corridor that stretched from the east wing of the mansion to the west wing was jammed with struggling figures, all of them so heavily splattered with dust and gore that it was hard to tell the living from the undead. Dead Leg and Azul were in the thick of it all, their crews fighting side by side. The pirates and smugglers were holding their own against the seemingly never-ending onslaught, but the residents of the Blue Mahoe were faring less well: Kal saw Bosun’s well-endowed paramour lying dead on the carpet, blood still pouring from gaping wounds all over his body; it looked as though several pairs of hands had gouged fist-sized chunks out of his flesh.
Kal advanced through the crush, lashing out to the left and right as she went, spitting out curses to Lula, Azul, Ben, and anyone else she could think of who might be to blame for getting her into this situation. She couldn’t see Lula anywhere in the chaos, and as she looked around she lost her footing, tripping over a body and suddenly finding herself flat on her back on the soft, squelchy, blood-stained carpet. A zombie sat down on top of her, and she just about managed to grab its wrists as it groped for her.
It was unbelievably strong. What had been a small, thin woman in life, was now a powerful, vigorous monster in death. Kal stared at the zombie’s eyes as they struggled. The irises were completely black; there was no life in them … none at all. Except … did Kal imagine it, or did a tear squeeze out from behind an eyelid, only to instantly dry on the zombie’s white cheek?
The monster was moaning as it pushed its hands closer to Kal’s face. Kal was screaming with the effort of throwing it off. But in the end she was saved, not by her own strength, but by Sea Dog. The tiny dachshund leaped in, locked his jaws around the zombie’s wrist and twisted. The zombie’s hand was ripped away, and the vicious little dog ran off with it, taking it back to his master.
With her free hand, Kal was now able to pick up her cleaver and then bury it in her assailant’s neck. She kept hacking away until the head was half-off, and the zombie stopped moving. ‘You owe him!’ Dead Leg shouted from down the corridor. Kal could only laugh hysterically at the thought of owing her life to a small dog. She jumped to her feet and got back in the action. Just a few paces away, the kid Whalo was being held against the wall by a zombie whose hands were around his neck. Kal sprang forward and smashed the zombie’s skull in.
But unlike Sea Dog, she was a fraction of a second too late with her rescue. The zombie collapsed, but its hands never let go of Whalo’s throat. Kal heard the boy’s neck snap as he was pulled to the ground.
Kal swore. There was no end to the zombies, who were still coming in through windows and filling the staircase both above and below. They never raised their voices above a low moan, so Kal was painfully aware that each scream she heard was another ally being torn apart. Would the next scream be Lula’s?
She couldn’t see her friend anywhere. But she did spot someone else: a skinny figure, limping down the stairs from the top floor, pulling a young girl along with him, pushing past the zombies and just managing to stay ahead of their groping hands.
‘Che!’ Kal shouted after him. ‘Stay close to me!’
But the albino ignored her. He hoisted Rose onto the bannister, climbed up beside her, pushed off and slid down to ground level. They slipped off halfway down, though, and crashed to the floor. Che pulled Rose to her feet, and hobbled off with her towards the kitchens.
Kal followed him. If there was one person in here that needed protecting, then it was Che; he was almost a cripple, he wasn’t a fighter, and he wasn’t involved in smuggling Sirensbane for the Magician. And he had said he was the governor’s son. Estranged or not, saving his life might be worth something if the governor was ever restored to his rightful position.
Kal didn’t risk sliding down like Che had. Zombies were falling over each other to get up the stairs, so Kal clambered over their bodies to get downs, hopping from back-to-back, and kicking at their faces as she went. In the entrance lobby, Dogwood and Bosun were in the centre of a circle of thirty-odd zombies. Kal tried to dash around the edge of the fracas, but Dogwood spotted her. ‘Get over here, Moonheart!’ he bellowed. ‘We could use some support!’
Kal didn’t argue. There had to be an end to this zombie onslaught eventually, so the best she could do for Che, for Lula and for the rest of them, was to put down as many of the monsters as she could. In a violent rage, she hefted up a heavy table and hurled it into the undead crush. It knocked down about five of them, and she stepped in to finish them off with her cleaver. She hacked her way to Dogwood and Bosun, who were both filthy with dirt, dust and streaks of what could only be their own blood.
‘Whoever said that worse things happen at sea,’ Bosun said, almost cheerfully, ‘hadn’t ever experienced this!’
Then then the tall woman was grabbed by both arms by a pair of zombies. She dropped her cutlass and went down on her knees, trying to use her body weight to slip out of the zombies’ grip. Kal and Dogwood tried to get to her, but she was dragged out of range, her two attackers going crazy fighting over her. Bosun screamed as both her shoulders dislocated at the same time, and her flesh began to rip. She was put out of her misery fairly quickly, though, as a third zombie appeared behind her, gripped her head in both hands and twisted it until it tore away from her neck.
Kal and Dogwood fought on in silence. There were no words left. Furious anger fuelled Kal’s attacks, and she cut down all three of Bosun’s killers in quick succession. Her mind almost left her body as she hacked and hacked and hacked in a numb rage.
There were too many zombies, though, and too few of the living still left alive to help. When her muscles finally gave up fighting for her, Kal barely noticed. She half wondered why she was now lying on the floor. She watched in a daze as a zombie, its hamstrings cut by Dogwood’s sword, crawled across the floor towards her. It reached out and its dry, cracked fingers brushed Kal’s hair and stroked her face.
Kal hadn’t the energy to resist. She closed her eyes …
They snapped open at the sound of a whoosh, chop right in front of her face. The zombie’s hands had been sliced off, and a second blade stabbed down and impaled its skull. It was Jako; he stood over Kal like a god, muscled body heaving with exertion, twin scimitars held at his sides in an unintentionally heroic pose. Divine intervention, Kal thought.
‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘That was the last of them.’
He helped her up. Kal didn’t have the words to thank him, so she just embraced him in gratitude for a moment, then pulled away and stumbled off in the direction of the kitchens. The house was silent at last, but there was still horror waiting around every corner. Each time Kal found a body, her heart leaped at the thought that it might be Lula or Che. She found neither of them, though. When she reached the kitchen, it was deserted. The cauldron of curry had been tipped over and the back door was wide open.
Had Che and Rose got away? No, Kal thought, picking up Che’s curry-soaked recipe book from off the tiled floor. He wouldn’t have left this behind.
She stepped outside into the warm night. The hot Reaping Wind gusted around the mansion, shaking the trees. Carrying away the souls of the dead. It would have a heavy load tonight. Lying on the gravel path was another body, and the wind tugged at its hair and dress, giving it some semblance of life.
But when Kal
turned the body over, she could see that was just an illusion. There was an ugly gash in Rose’s throat and blood soaked her dress, the moonlight making it look like a black scarf. Kal picked up the small girl—she hardly weighed a thing—and carried her back inside.
In the entrance hall, the surviving Swordfish crew were dealing with the bodies. Zombies were being taken out the front door and piled high outside on the driveway; dead pirates and smugglers were laid side-by-side under cut-down curtains around the hall. The Swordfish's doctor was tending the injured. He had done nothing much but sit around and play the fiddle on the voyage over; now he had more work than he could possibly cope with.
Dead Leg, Jako and Dogwood were sitting at a table talking. There was no sign of Lula, or of Azul and his surviving crew.
‘… probably found a weak spot and broke through the barricade somewhere near the mansion,’ Jako was saying. ‘We should go and find out where.’
After laying Rose down, Kal walked up the others. ‘Where’s Lula?’ she asked.
‘Gone,’ Dead Leg said. ‘Azul took her. That pisshead picaroon knocked Lula out cold with the butt of his pistol before making off with her and the rest of his crew as soon as he could. If they had stayed and fought, I wouldn’t have lost half so many of my own people.’
Dogwood was glaring at Kal fiercely. The side of his head was bleeding from where he had had an ear torn off. ‘This is all your fault, Moonheart,’ he said.
Kal shook her head wearily, but Dogwood persisted. ‘How much money did you win from the Magician tonight?’
She told them.
‘Six thousand doubloons!’ Dogwood repeated. ‘I only lost five hundred to him. You were supposed to teach him a lesson and win just enough to buy a new boat, not bankrupt him! I’ll bet he let the zombies into town.’
Dead Leg and Jako turned to Kal with accusing eyes. She was too tired to protest. She pulled up a chair and slumped down into it. ‘No,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘The zombies didn’t just wander in here from the jungle. They came looking for someone. Not me, though.’
She took a breath. ‘But I do know who they came for, and I also know why.’
II.ix
The Butcher of Port Black
‘They came for Che,’ Kal said. ‘And they took him … alive, I’ll bet.’
Dead Leg looked puzzled. ‘Che?’ he said. ‘The cook? Why the blue blazes would they want him?’
‘Oh please,’ Kal scoffed. ‘Don’t act like you don’t know. You sailed all the way to Amaranthium to bring him back here.’
The burly captain of the Swordfish shook his head in bewilderment. ‘I did no such thing, Moonheart. I dropped in to the Greasy Goblin in the city after delivering an ounce of Sirensbane to a senator on Arcus Hill. I was as hungry as a shark and Island curry was on the menu; it was the tastiest, most finger-lickin’ thing I ever put in my mouth! So I got talking to the cook, who turns out to have a hankering to visit home again. I offered him a job and he accepted; it’s not like I pressganged him into service. Dangle me from the mizzenmast if that ain’t the truth.’
Kal didn’t buy it. ‘You just happened to stroll into the Greasy Goblin? Someone must have mentioned it to you. Who?’
Sea Dog was sitting in Dead Leg’s lap, and the captain’s hand was trembling as he stroked his pet. His curse-marked hand.
‘Who, Dead Leg?’ Kal repeated.
Dead Leg was a tough, heavy-set man, and his eye patch, peg leg, scars and tattoos spoke of a hard life, both at sea and in battle. But now, for the first time since Kal had known him, he seemed frightened. ‘I can’t say who …’ he muttered.
Dogwood was sitting opposite Dead Leg, and now he leaned forward to join in the interrogation. ‘Can’t say?’ Dogwood said. ‘Or won’t?’
Dead Leg tried to look everywhere except return Dogwood’s gaze. He can’t say, Kal realised. He literally can’t. Something or someone has some kind of hold over him.
‘Let me try and help you remember,’ she said, trying to keep it friendly. ‘During the voyage here, I heard you, Jako and Lula talking on deck about a treasure map. And earlier tonight, I discovered you searching high and low for something … in Che’s room.’
Dead Leg’s eye widened. He stayed silent, but looked more uncomfortable than ever. Jako, who had not spoken until now, stepped in to help him out:
‘It was some wild and crazy legend that Lula said she heard,’ he explained. ‘An albino stole a map that leads to the legendary Vault of Vuda, and he fled to the other side of the world to escape her wrath! We thought Che was the thief. But we looked everywhere on board the Swordfish and we found nothing. And why would we, anyway? Che isn’t the only albino in the world. Before she started turning everyone into zombies, Vuda cursed thousands of her people with all sorts of other afflictions. So maybe the zombies took Che because he’s an outcast too; they think he’s one of their own—’
‘Enough!’ Kal snapped. She stood up, and Jako rose with her, his hands dropping to the hilts of his scimitars. ‘I’ve had it with your superstitious nonsense,’ Kal told him. ‘You’re always coming up with some story: zombies are cursed; zombies can be stopped if we go beg a god; zombies broke through the barricade; zombies want to be friends with Che; zombies this, zombies that …
She fixed the Nubaran with a hard stare. ‘You’re trying to divert me from getting to the truth. Whose side are you really on, Jako? His?’
Jako remained unmoved. ‘I saved you tonight,’ he said calmly. ‘I could have let you die.’
‘You’ll wish you did,’ Kal spat back, ‘if I ever find out you’re playing me.’
Jako shook his head. ‘I ain’t got time for this,’ he said, and walked out the front door.
Dead Leg sighed as he watched his navigator disappear into the dark night. ‘You don’t want to be making an enemy of Jako Jujube,’ he told Kal. ‘He’s fearfully good at everything he does; fighting, sailing, dealing with maps, charts and lines, not to mention women and drink. If anyone was going to challenge me as captain, it was that man. Maybe I should be thanking you, Kal, for driving him away.’
Kal thought of the letter of marque in her pocket. If anyone was a threat to Dead Leg’s authority, it wasn’t the navigator. ‘How long have you known Jako?’ she asked him.
‘Over a year,’ Dead Leg said. ‘Certainly before we started smuggling Sirensbane. We picked him up in a little coracle off the coast of Nubara. Said he was fleeing a gang of pirates who had raided his village.’
Kal sat and chewed her lip. Maybe Jako really was superstitious. And maybe Dead Leg just didn’t want to admit that he was after a treasure map. Were they really under the influence of a malevolent power? Or was it all in her imagination?
The surviving members of Dead Leg’s crew had finished up dealing with the bodies, and had gathered around the table. There were but a dozen of them left. They looked to their captain for orders or encouraging words of some kind.
Now that the secret was out, though, Dead Leg decided to nail his colours to the mast. ‘I say we’re done selling Sirensbane,’ he said, rising to address his crew. ‘Maybe the Magician’s behind this zombie business, maybe not, but working for him was a curse in many other ways. Now I reckon that albino must be important if he’s worth all this chaos, so I got us a new adventure: there’s treasure out there somewhere, I can feel it in me bones.’
The crew were too exhausted and shocked to get really excited, but Kal could see that their natural longing for buccaneering and booty was stirring again. They stood a fraction straighter, their eyes glimmering with the faintest optimism.
Dogwood turned to Kal. ‘Never mind all this dreaming of treasure,’ he said. ‘This town has a very real drug problem. I’m going straight down to ask the Magician a few questions in the morning. His vudu mind tricks won’t work on me.’
Kal didn’t reply. Instead she stood up and addressed everyone. ‘Don’t any of you care about Lula?’ she said. ‘Don’t pirates watch one another’s backs, as well
as sharing out treasure and rewards? It was Lula who told you about Che and his map. You owe her a slice of the prize, if you ever find it … but you won’t find it so long as zombies have Che, and you can’t share it so long as Lula’s still in the hands of Amaro Azul!’
The crew deflated slightly. They wanted an easy fortune, not a fight with the Magician or Azul. ‘We’re smugglers, not pirates,’ Dead Leg mumbled.
‘All of us need to work together,’ Kal went on. ‘If you’re going after treasure that doesn’t belong to you, then you’re pirates, like it or not, and the only way to balance the bad karma that comes with stealing is to share the spoils and honour your friends. That’s the pirate code, right?’ She put her hand out in the middle of the table. ‘We’ll rescue Lula together; find Che and his treasure together; and smash the Magician’s Sirensbane operation together! And if you stand with me, then I promise you all I'll find a way to break this zombie curse once and for all.’
Dead Leg reached out and slapped his palm over Kal’s fist. ‘Then I guess we are pirates now,’ he said.
Kal looked at Dogwood. ‘Come on, Silas,’ she said. ‘The Senate can’t help you all the way out here. Don’t take on the Magician alone.’
When Dogwood slapped his hand down on Dead Leg’s, the crew finally cheered. ‘Fine then!’ Dogwood said. ‘To the pirate code! All for everyone, and everyone for all!’
Kal laughed. ‘That’s not the pirate code; that’s the … that’s not even a code at all!’
* * *
The mansion gardens were grey in the colourless predawn world. Glossy black hummingbirds flitted from flower to flower, and cicadas sang in the undergrowth. The Reaping Wind had died, and the Paradise Wind had yet to rise. Kal’s filthy new clothes were glued to her body with sweat.