by D. P. Prior
Shader didn’t think that was very likely.
So this is where it was going to end. He’d never considered death at sea. Not quite the slow fading from life he’d envisioned at Pardes. But this is what he was trained for, as were the fighting men he’d seen on the Templum flagship. They were Elect knights, sworn to serve the Ipsissimus; sworn to die for him and to see it as an honour. Shader gripped the hilt of his sword and narrowed his eyes against the squall. This is where Ain had led him. So be it.
Cleto’s barking voice ripped him from his thoughts and announced the commencement of the path they had chosen. Sailors who’d only minutes ago been coarse and carefree fanned out along the starboard rail with the same long-barrelled weapons Cleto had taken to the jungle. The rest were massing on the aftcastle, many of them also brandishing the Aeterna-tech weapons, others with cutlasses and crossbows. Cleto strode the length of the deck, shouting commands in exactly the same tone as the Elect drill-sergeants had used. It was a marvel to watch: a line of scruffy seamen loading lead balls, tamping them down, and then raising the barrels to sight the enemy. Once he was satisfied, Cleto ordered them to lower their weapons and wait. He then ran to the aftcastle and went through the same routine.
Podesta was beside Dekker at the helm, gesticulating with sharp cutting motions of his hands and repeatedly uttering ‘uh?’ and ‘eh?’
to make sure he’d been understood. Dekker looked pale, rigid hands clutching the wheel as if it were holding him in existence.
A tortured howl came from the galley. Podesta’s jaw dropped, and he turned to Shader, eyes wide and frightened, bottom lip trembling.
Sabas emerged from the galley with a hefty cleaver in each hand. He’d removed his apron and wore only breeches and a vest. He’d always looked a big man, but at that moment Shader saw him as a giant, all bulging muscle, whereas in his usual attire he’d appeared stocky and not a little fat. He acknowledged Shader with a nod. The humour had left his eyes. They’d grown feral, and his lips were drawn back in a snarl. He came to stand before Podesta and lowered his gaze.
‘The boy?’ Podesta asked, his voice quavering.
Sabas shook his head. Podesta’s hand went to his mouth, tears streaking his cheeks.
‘Maybe it’s good he don’t have to go through this again,’ Sabas said in a low rumble.
Podesta nodded and wiped the snot from his nose. He sucked in a deep breath and drew his shoulders back. He flicked a look at Shader, but there was no sparkle in his eyes.
Sabas made his way up onto the aftcastle, the other sailors parting for him out of either fear or respect. Shader guessed they’d seen this side of Sabas before and knew what was coming.
Elpidio was leaning over the edge of the crow’s nest to get a better look at the enemy. If the boy was scared, he was disguising it well. He noticed Shader watching him and waved.
‘You might want to join the others up top,’ Podesta said, clapping a hand on Shader’s shoulder. ‘They’ll swarm the decks in no time. At least from the aftcastle we’ll have a defensive advantage, eh?’
Shader indicated the men lining the rails. ‘What about them?’
‘One volley and then they fall back. Dekker’s the only one staying put. We need him to get us through and into the thick of it.’
Dekker was visibly shaking as he clung to the wheel, his muscles taut as a dead man’s, eyes fixed straight ahead, lips moving with silent words.
‘I’ll stay with him,’ Shader said.
‘But…’
‘If it’s that important we break through, someone needs to keep Dekker alive.’
‘Point taken.’ Podesta held out his hand and Shader took it. ‘May Ain be with you, my friend.’
‘And with your spirit,’ Shader said as the Captain turned and ran up the steps to the aftcastle.
‘Here they come lads!’ bellowed Cleto from up top. ‘Ready weapons!’
All around the deck barrels were raised in perfect unison. The two reavers were almost upon them. Shader could see mawgs packed onto the decks like rats clinging to driftwood. The channel between the ships was narrowing as the mawgs realized what Podesta was trying to do, but fast as they were, it was still too late.
‘I will stand with you,’ Osric whispered in Shader’s ear.
Shader nodded his thanks, but took little comfort. His palms were slick with sweat, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. Once battle had commenced he knew he’d be fine. It was the anticipation he couldn’t deal with.
The Aura Placida slipped between the reavers like she was threading the eye of a needle. The huge black barrels of thunder-weapons protruded from the sides of both galleons, but they dared not fire for fear of hitting each other. Dozens of mawgs leapt to the railings and started to fling themselves across to the Aura Placida.
‘Fire!’ Cleto roared.
There was a succession of thunder-cracks. Barrels smoked, and mawgs were punched back against their own hulls before plunging into the sea.
‘Fall back!’ Cleto yelled as another wave of mawgs prepared to leap from the galleon, jaws snapping, claws rending the air.
As the sailors scurried past on their way to the aftcastle, Shader drew the gladius and took up a position behind Dekker. The sailor was speaking audibly now, the same words over and over:
‘I love you Mary, I love you Mary, I love you Mary…’
The prow of the Aura Placida was already through the gap and the mawgs howled their frustration. The main decks of both reavers were heaving masses of fur. Yellow eyes glared their hunger at Shader as they passed, and some of the larger mawgs reared up and beat their leathery chests with razor sharp claws, gashing and gouging themselves. The spill of black blood whipped up a frenzy amongst the others.
Dozens more flung themselves across the waves. They were met with thunder and dropped like stones into the sea; all but two, whose claws found purchase in the carrack’s hull. They hung there for a few seconds and then started to drag themselves upwards. As the first reached the top, Shader ran over and hacked away its arm. The mawg screeched and fell, but the other one made the deck and pounced. Shader twisted clear of a vicious sweep with a claw and backslashed across the mawg’s throat. The thick fur saved the beast and it barrelled into him.
Parrying a bludgeoning blow as he stumbled backwards, Shader managed to put the mainmast between him and the mawg. It came around the left hand side, maw cavernously wide and filled to the gullet with thorny teeth. Shader thrust and the head pulled back behind the mast. It immediately reappeared the other side and he jabbed at it again. This time when it withdrew, he followed it. The mawg did as he’d expected and went back to the left. It roared its frustration when it found nothing but air, and then it screamed and thrashed as the point of Shader’s gladius emerged from its chest.
Shader whipped the blade free and danced out of range as the enraged mawg thrashed about with blood pumping from its torso. He watched it for a moment, gauging the pattern of its movements, and then lunged with the gladius extended. The blade skewered an eye, and Shader pushed until he felt it grate against bone and hit something pulpy beyond. The mawg dropped like a sack of potatoes.
A cheer went up from the aftcastle, and Shader saw that they had cleared the two reavers. He wiped his blade on the mawg’s fur and rejoined Dekker at the helm. Something shimmered behind the sailor causing Shader to start, but then he saw it was Osric’s insubstantial image catching the sea spray. Shader was about to say something about the wraith not helping, but then realized Osric had been fulfilling their task to keep Dekker safe.
There was a succession of muffled booms, and clouds of smoke billowed up from the main mawg fleet. Shader’s first thought was that it was a miracle, an act of Ain, but then he realized the smoke was coming from the thunder-weapons jutting from their hulls. Flames raced sky-wards along the masts of one of the lagging Templum ships. People were leaping overboard into the chopping waves as a black cloud rolled across the deck. The mainmast teetered and the hull lurch
ed dangerously.
The reavers had the Templum ships encircled, but it was getting difficult to see what was happening in the thick banks of smoke now spilling off the sinking ship. Shader’s eyes were watering from the acrid fumes and his stomach churned as the Aura Placida plunged into the troughs and rode the waves. They were coming up fast behind the nearest of the black ships. Shader blinked and squinted in an effort to gauge the numbers on both sides. There were about thirty reavers and fewer than fifteen Templum ships. Each of the reavers was packed with at least a hundred frenzied mawgs. Even if the Templum fleet avoided the thunder-weapons, it would be overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers.
‘They’re coming about, Mr Dekker!’ Podesta shouted from the aft-castle. ‘Take us straight into the pack and keep running.’
Shader looked back and saw the first two reavers turning in wide circles. The Aura Placida was caught between a rock and a hard place. Podesta’s plan—if that’s what you could call it—reeked of desperation. It struck Shader as the death-wish of a man who’d never come to terms with what he’d witnessed at the hands of the mawgs as a child. Is that what this was, the result of the Captain’s obsession? Or was there really no other way? It was pointless worrying about it, Shader decided. The die was already cast. They were committed. All he had to worry about was keeping Dekker alive long enough to break through the reavers and scatter their formation. With any luck it would afford the Templum fleet some room for a counterattack, although what they could do against the thunder-weapons he couldn’t imagine. No matter the source of Podesta’s illegal Aeterna-tech, there was no way the Ipsissimus was going to have anything similar with his fleet. Not unless he was an utter hypocrite. Right now, Shader hoped that he was.
The aft of the closest reaver came looming into view, and for an instant Shader thought Dekker was going to ram it. At the last minute, the Aura Placida swung to port and grazed the side of the mawg vessel. Timbers screeched and the deck shuddered. Mawgs pitched overboard or tumbled on top of each other as volley upon volley of lead shot ripped into them from the Aura Placida’s aftcastle. Before the mawgs could muster any sort of attack, the carrack was through and speeding towards the Templum fleet at the centre of the noose.
The reaver they’d struck swung around from the impact and headed straight for its neighbour. The Templum ships had given up running and were manoeuvring into a defensive circle. The reavers saw they had them just where they wanted them and began to turn side on so that they could bring their thunder-weapons to bear.
‘That one!’ Podesta bellowed from the railing of the aftcastle. He was pointing with his cutlass towards the largest of the black galleons. ‘The flagship, Mr Dekker. Ram her!’
The mawg flagship was halfway through its turn and presented them with a broad target. The Aura Placida’s bowsprit took on the aspect of a tremendous lance as it swung to the attack and the hunted became the hunter.
‘Brace for impact!’ Podesta shouted, and then there was a sickening crunch as planks splintered and the prow buried itself in the flank of the reaver. The flagship split and started to fold back around the remains of the bowsprit. Mawgs fell by the dozen into the water, but one—larger than the rest—levitated a foot above the deck and wheeled to face Dekker. Its face was pierced with human bones, and a chain of skulls dangled from its neck. The mawg extended two taloned hands and fire spiralled from them. Dekker’s jaw hung slack, but he seemed unable to release the wheel. Shader stepped in front of him with the gladius raised. The blade flared white, drawing the mawg’s fire into itself and quenching it. The mawg snarled something at Shader and then gestured to its fellows. A great mass of fur bundled towards the Aura Placida’s foredeck howling like rabid wolves.
‘Fly!’ Shader screamed at Dekker. ‘Get up top.’
Dekker tore his hands away from the wheel and sprinted for the aft-castle with Osric’s ghostly outline close on his tail. Shader started to back away after him as the mawgs spilled to the quarterdeck and reached the mainmast. Two of them started to climb the mast by burying their claws deep into the wood. Shader looked up at the crow’s nest and groaned. Elpidio was staring down, white-faced, eyes wide in panic.
Shader charged, but before he could reach the mast, the main swell of mawgs swarmed past it and fell upon him. There was a blur of fangs, claws and fur. Talons glanced off his chainmail, shredded his coat. Shader stabbed and slashed with wild abandon, cleaving, cutting, impaling. He ducked and danced, always poised, always balanced. No thoughts, no regrets: raw movements born from hours of practice and years of bloody experience. His hat was torn from his head and a claw raked the skin of his face, but Shader dropped low and gutted his assailant. He never stood still long enough for the mawgs to overwhelm him. His foot lashed out striking a mawg behind the calf and upturning it. Another grabbed him from behind, but Shader reversed his sword and rammed it through hide and flesh. He could see nothing but fur and fangs and blood, but he continued to whirl and slash like a devil. If he had to slay an army by himself he would. There was no way they were getting Elpidio.
As if sharing his resolve, the gladius hummed and shone with white-hot brilliance. The mawgs raged at its blinding light, but still kept coming in an endless avalanche. Shader cut down another and backed against the mast. The two climbing mawgs were almost at the crow’s nest and he could hear Elpidio screaming. Jaws snapped an inch from Shader’s face, causing him to duck round the other side of the mast. He jabbed forwards, spitting an arm, ripped his blade free and hacked down hard on top of a mawg’s head. The beast crumpled into the path of the pack. For a second, Shader had a breathing space and he took hold of the rigging draping from the mast. Before he could climb, the mawgs surged forward and he was forced to back away to the railings. Elpidio screamed again—a ghastly shrill shriek—and blood showered the decks.
‘No!’ Shader roared, charging back into the horde, cutting, stabbing, hacking, his limbs fuelled by rage and pain.
The mawgs closed around him, striking from all sides. A blow to the head turned his vision red and sent him reeling towards a wall of claws. Just before they struck him, there was a series of bangs and four of the mawgs fell forwards with holes in their chests.
Strong arms grabbed Shader and pulled him through the gap.
‘You’re one crazy shogger,’ growled Cleto, dragging Shader towards the aftcastle as three other sailors covered them with the Aeternam weapons.
‘Elpidio,’ Shader protested. ‘Elpidio!’
‘Too late,’ Cleto said. ‘Now get your arse up there and kill some more o’ the cunts.’
Cleto shoved Shader towards the steps where other hands caught him and helped him up to the aftcastle. He turned as Cleto barked an order and the three sailors who’d covered their retreat fired again. Another mawg fell, but the pack continued to swell.
‘Run!’ Cleto yelled as the sailors tried desperately to reload their weapons.
Cleto bounded up the steps three at a time. Two of the others made it, but the third was snatched away into the pack. The sound of his flesh being ripped was unnaturally loud. His screams cut across the deck for longer than they should have, accompanied by rending, crunching, and disgorging. Finally, the big mawg they’d seen shooting fire from its fingers reared up with a hunk of dripping meat in each hand. It was hard to tell what body part it was, due to the gore, but thankfully the screaming had stopped.
Podesta put his hand on Shader’s shoulder and peered down at the mawgs.
‘There’s no end to them,’ he said in a hushed voice. ‘Shoggers must breed like rabbits.’
He led Shader behind the two ranks of sailors armed with Aeternam weapons so that he could view the rest of the battle. Smoke billowed up in a wide circle making it hard to distinguish the Templum ships from the reavers.
‘We must help them,’ Osric said. ‘It is our duty.’
Shader felt it too, the pull of his Elect training, the sense of purpose the Order had instilled in him. For Osric, it must have been even wors
e: years of loyal service followed by an age of undeath, centuries in which to regret his failings. Shader had taken the easy route; he’d simply walked away from it all, reneged on his responsibilities. But now, faced with a real threat to the Ipsissimus, he wanted nothing more than to be at his side.
One galleon was ablaze, careening precariously. Fire erupted from the thunder-weapons of the reavers at intervals, sending up splashes of water or splintering through planks. The chorus of screams and explosions was muffled and eerily dreamlike. For an instant, the wind cleared the smoke and Shader saw that the cordon of black sails was tightening about the remaining Templum ships. Clearly the mawgs wanted to finish this with tooth and claw. As their weapons thundered again and the smoke screen returned, Shader thought he saw another vessel, much smaller than the rest, escaping the fight. Shader blinked and squinted, but then the little ship was lost to sight. He’d been mistaken: it hadn’t been fleeing the battle, it was heading towards it.
‘Steady.’ Cleto’s voice brought Shader around.
The mawgs were now pressing onto the stairs, loping up cautiously. The entire quarterdeck behind them resembled a seething furry monster.
‘Steady,’ Cleto called again. Shader thought he detected a slight quaver in the man’s voice.
The lead mawgs were only a few steps from the top. The first line of defenders held their Aeterna-tech weapons to their eyes, the barrels wavering either from fear or the wind. The second rank looked like they would have run, if there had been anywhere to go. They clutched their own weapons in white-knuckled hands. Behind them stood the last line of defence: a huddle of grim-faced sailors brandishing cutlasses. Tough men, every one of them, but each betraying the hopelessness of their plight and the fear of what was to come. Sabas stood at the centre, his black skin beaded with sweat, the two cleavers hanging loosely at his sides as if he had all the time in the world to bloody them.
‘Fire!’ Cleto roared.
There was a series of thunder-cracks. Blood sprayed, mawgs fell. One had a fist-sized hole through its chest; another lost half its face, yet still the horde pressed on, clambering over the bodies now clogging the steps. The front row of sailors knelt to reload as the rank behind took aim.