The Sword Falls

by A. J. Smith

  “My arse,” snapped Driftwood. “I don’t trust you, your Sundered Wolves, or your fucking phoenix.”

  “Tynian, please,” added Tomas Red Fang. “It’s the most powerful talisman I’ve ever seen, more than capable of doing what Daniel claims.”

  They’d started arguing just after I suggested that the Revenge would take me to the Starry Sky. I then went up on deck with Siggy, to organize the movements of the fleet, and left Tomas and Daniel to argue with Driftwood. As I returned, the argument was rising in intensity, at least where the Sea Wolf captain was concerned. The talisman, called Anya’s Roar, had been placed back in its wooden chest, though dusty old scrolls still covered the table. Kieran and Bjorn Coldfire were not engaged in the discourse, preferring to stand apart and converse between themselves.

  “Shut up!” said Siggy Blackeye, after a further few minutes of swearing from Driftwood. “You can talk all you like, but Adeline’s decided what we’re doing… and that’s what we’re doing. So, all this arguing does is fill the air with unnecessary breath.”

  The captain grumbled, fiddling with his beard. I didn’t think he was angry at what he was being asked to do. It was more that he was losing control, and venturing into waters he didn’t understand, both literal and figurative. Luckily, Kieran Greenfire, his trusted quartermaster, was far more composed. The slender man left Bjorn and crossed the stateroom, to put a hand on his captain’s shoulder.

  “Think of it this way,” said Kieran. “We’ll be the first Sea Wolf crew to sail a ship through the void. Such deeds inspire song.”

  “But,” mumbled Driftwood, talking quietly to his quartermaster, “I know the tides and I know the winds. Do such things even exist beyond the glass? Will our sails be of use? Or will this ship, our home, be at the mercy of a spirit?”

  Kieran grinned. “We still have the Fair Lady. She’d put a hole in the most fiendish void serpent.”

  Daniel coughed politely, keeping his composure in a way that many Sea Wolves would find maddening. “Fear not, captain,” said the Sundered Wolf. “There are both winds and tides… far stronger than those in the realms of form. Only a mighty vessel, with a skilled crew and a sharp captain can traverse the void. But the spectacle… it’s wondrous.”

  “You speak as if you’ve seen it,” grunted Driftwood, more relaxed after talking to his quartermaster.

  “Just books,” replied the Sundered Wolf. “Old books, with vibrant pictures of terror and beauty. Anya Fast Claw was a talented artist. Her renderings are haunting.”

  I’d remained seated throughout the exchange, letting the argument play out, fluctuating as Driftwood’s mood dictated. Siggy was right – I’d already decided what we were doing, but it didn’t benefit these Sea Wolves to hear me order them about, and I knew they’d gradually come to my way of thinking. The Wolves who sail, the Wolves who kneel, and the Wolves who are sundered would all be a part of my pack.

  “Do we need to prepare the ship?” I asked Daniel. “Or do I just blow the horn and trust to luck?”

  Everyone turned to me. As I became less and less verbose, my words gained extra weight, and I was not yet accustomed to the way people looked at me when I spoke. “I apologize,” I said, drily. “I assumed the needless arguing had finished, and we could now ask serious questions. Now, how does the talisman work?”

  “Glad you asked,” replied Daniel. “Long ago, Anya made a friend of a small but powerful phoenix spirit. There are old tales about their friendship, many of them written for children incidentally. A whole series of tales focus on Anya trying to explain to her friend the concept of a ship. Such forms don’t really have an equivalent beyond the glass. They talked and they talked, until the phoenix decided he wanted to see one of these ship for himself.” The Sundered Wolf turned back to the wooden chest, and removed Anya’s Roar. “She carved this for him, to be a suitable home. And when she blew it in the realm of form, it created an opening in the glass, big enough for a ship to sail through. To this day, the phoenix waits, until it can again see a ship and guide it through the void.” He turned to Driftwood. “Strengthen your sails, captain. Prepare your crew.”

  *

  It was early evening, and we were alone on the ocean, with the Sea Wolf fleet just disappearing over the southern horizon. For a moment, the Old Bitch of the Sea allowed me some hope, as I watched everything I’d ever known sail away. I imagined Last Port, and the mighty hold it could become. In time, it would mean as much as the Severed Hand. But we didn’t have time. Before any future could be lived, the present needed attention, and the Sunken God was all-encompassing. My brief moment of hope quickly changed into resolve, as I wondered if Driftwood’s talk of an honourable last stand was the best we could hope for.

  The sea was calm, gently caressing the black hull of Halfdan’s Revenge. Her dark blue sails were stowed, as were any excess baggage and supplies. Ballistae bolts, barrels, ropes, wooden planking, all were tied securely to the deck. Below decks, every crew member had secured their gear. Above us, the mainmast had been reinforced with steel struts, and extra foot-ropes had been added. Between Driftwood, Kieran Greenfire and Siggy Blackeye, there were plenty of loud voices to drive the crew to work quickly, with the tall, blonde bosun handling the galley and hammocks. Everyone knew what was about to happen, and reactions varied from excitement to extreme fear. They would be the first Sea Wolf crew to sail a ship into the void, and every single reaction was permitted.

  I wasn’t needed for any of it, and I suspected most of the crew were glad that they didn’t have to converse with me. By the time I realized I could have grabbed a few hours of sleep, it was too late. I’d spent too much time at the bow of the Revenge, contemplating my journey and what was yet to come. Tasha hovered nearby, as if waiting for me to confide my fears. I really, really wanted to, but there were no fears to confess. I felt that I should be afraid, or at least nervous, but all I felt was certainty. This was going to happen, and showing fear had no benefit. The Old Bitch of the Sea had no need of fear, and didn’t understand it.

  “Right, you!” announced Captain Tynian Driftwood, lumbering towards me. “My ship is as prepared as it’s going to get. Now, you and I talk.”

  Tasha scuttled towards the quarterdeck, and every other Eastron within earshot found a reason to give their captain a wide berth. Most people seemed to know that this confrontation had been brewing for some time.

  I leant against the forward railing, just below the Fair Lady, waiting for Driftwood. He’d probably swear, and voice a number of sincere objections, and I’d likely stumble through the interaction, stopping just short of threatening the man. But he was a loyal Sea Wolf and he deserved more.

  “Say what you need to say,” I said, trying to keep my voice soft.

  He stood in front of me, with a complicated expression on his bearded face. He didn’t like me, but a combination of fear, confusion and respect was keeping him relatively compliant. “A lot of people are going to die in this war,” he began. “Maybe all of us. I don’t even know if it is a war. Was it a war when Mathias Blood lost the fleet in the Battle of the Depths? I respect you, but...”

  “But you don’t like me,” I offered. “And you’re not sure whether to follow me.”

  “You’re hard to like,” he replied. “I prefer leaders who are simple… following leaders who are simple. Lord Ulric was simple. He was nobody’s fool, but his mind saw black and white, as does your father’s. Your mind is a world of grey.” He paused, as if his initial conviction was softening. “And you won’t even call yourself the First Fang. At least give me that. I could follow the First Fang and keep my mouth shut, but I don’t understand this Alpha Wolf shit.”

  I made sure our conversation was private before I responded. “You think I understand it?” I replied. “Kieran saw my wyrd in the dead forest. What did he say?”

  “I told you,” said Driftwood. “He saw the Old Bitch of the Sea in your wyrd.”

  “So what’s your problem?”

  He kept
fiddling with his beard, ruffling it up, then smoothing it back into a fork. “My problem,” he repeated, “is that I don’t trust a person with no emotions, and all I’ve seen from you is an occasional flash of anger. Actually, no, not anger, just irritation.”

  I looked at the captain for a moment. His face was locked into an intense grimace. Then I smiled at him. “That’s your problem? Not taking the Revenge into the void, or visiting the Starry Sky? Or even fighting huge frogs? It’s my state of mind that bothers you? Fuck me, we’ve all got bigger problems than that.”

  His face creased up, as if insulted that I found his words funny. “Fuck off,” he sneered.

  My smile turned to a chuckle, and I put a hand on his shoulder. “I chose you and your ship for two reasons. Firstly, you’re the most seasoned and skilled crew at my disposal. Secondly, your quartermaster said you didn’t like me, and maybe that bothered me more than I wanted to admit.”

  He was incredulous, though a curl of humour had intruded at the edge of his mouth. “This is not the best way to make me like you.”

  “Let’s get it done, captain,” I ordered.

  He chewed on his lip, but there was now an edge of levity to our encounter. “Aye, my lady First Fang,” he replied. “Will you join me at the helm?”

  I nodded, and the two of us moved to the edge of quarterdeck, looking down over a hundred sailors, each nervously finishing their work. “All hands!” he boomed, getting his crew’s attention. From the low rigging, across the main deck, to the fore and the Fair Lady, everyone was still. “Signal your status.”

  “Sails ready, captain,” shouted Kieran Greenfire, from the base of the mainmast.

  “Deck secure, captain,” shouted Siggy Blackeye, from next to the metal ram.

  “Quarters secure, captain,” shouted the blonde bosun, from the top of the aft steps.

  “The ship is yours, sir,” concluded Kieran. “Your crew stand ready.”

  “Very well,” said Driftwood. “Everyone to stations, and get that Sundered Wolf up here.”

  “Aye, sir!” roared the entire crew, in unison.

  The captain turned to me, standing silently next to him. “Do you want to do the shouting, or you okay with me carrying on?”

  “It’s your ship,” I replied. “And you’re far more concise than me.”

  He nodded, with a wry smile on his face. I sensed that he still didn’t like me, but I’d at least proven that I had a sense of humour. For now, that seemed to be enough. In time, he was likely to need more persuasion, but the she-wolf within me decided to cross that bridge when I came to it.

  From the aft steps, Tomas Red Fang and Bjorn Coldfire escorted Daniel, the man who came back from the dead, to join us at the helm. The Sundered Wolf carefully held Anya’s Roar in his arms. Other than me, he was the only Eastron aboard not trembling in anticipation. The two spirit-masters either side of him were practically vibrating in excitement at the prospect of sailing through the glass, but not the man in the green cloak. From when he’d first awoken in the healer’s chamber, he’d taken everything in his stride.

  “For you, Alpha Wolf,” said Daniel, coming to a stop next to us on the quarterdeck, and offering me the wooden horn.

  I took the talisman. Its wooden surface was far smoother than I’d imagined, and had been polished to a lustrous brown shine. I could feel a gentle tingle of wyrd ripple through me, with the hairs rising across my arms. This thing had power, and the part of me that was spirit was wary of it. As I held Anya’s Roar, I realized that the Old Bitch of the Sea did not entirely trust spirits of the phoenix. There was a confusing history between them, though I felt no hostility. Oddly, from the perspective of the phoenix, there was only love towards the wolf spirits of the sea. Either way, I barely hesitated before raising the brass mouthpiece to my lips.

  Everyone around me prepared as best they could for what was about to happen. Tomas made sure he was standing next to a railing, with his old arms wrapped tightly around the wood. Bjorn steadied himself on the deck, and Driftwood crossed his arms. Tasha clung to the opposite railing and looked at me – and across the deck, the crew of Halfdan’s Revenge braced themselves against any solid surface.

  I turned forwards and blew the horn. A single, deep note reverberated from the talisman, pulsing across the ship, causing a waft of wind to ruffle everyone’s hair. Light-blue wyrd flared from every Eastron, as the phoenix spirit slowly woke up. I kept pushing my breath into the horn, using my considerable wyrd to strengthen the talisman, and increase the wind. Gradually, the Revenge started to rise and fall on a gentle tide. Everyone stood still, and I felt the rhythmic buffering of a pair of enormous wings. As if carried forwards by the note of Anya’s Roar, the wings glided away from me, soaring smoothly across the heads of the crew, and pulling the ship along in their wake. Then a spark of lustrous red flame appeared on either side of the ship, as if the water itself had caught fire.

  “By the Bright Lands!” exclaimed Tomas Red Fang, as Halfdan’s Revenge was slowly pulled upwards, out of the water.

  Everyone – not already at a railing – rushed to the sides of the ship, and looked down in amazement. The lines of flame pulsed, as if two huge wing-tips were cutting through the ocean.

  “All hands,” shouted Driftwood, “look to the front.”

  Just beyond the Fair Lady, a spiral of flame was twirling in the air, and the ship was rising to meet it. People lost their footing on the deck, as our upward trajectory became steeper, and the spiral became larger. The hull of the Revenge creaked, and sailors swore in alarm, as the shimmering blue void became visible in the centre of the flaming spiral.

  The Sea Wolf warship was now flying above the ocean, but no one was looking down. All eyes were fixed on the growing red-and-yellow vortex. This was not a tear in the glass, like the scar above the Severed Hand, but rather a gateway, wreathed in flame, from the realm of form to the realm of void.

  I almost barrelled into Daniel, as we rose higher and higher, with a jolting surge of speed. With only one arm, I struggled to steady myself, and needed the Sundered Wolf’s help to return to the railing. Others had no such assistance, and dozens of sailors flew backwards across the deck, or tumbled into stowed equipment. Injuries were minor, though the shouting and swearing only increased in volume the closer we flew to the vortex.

  “Steady!” I roared. “This is it. Hold the fuck onto something!”

  A hundred Eastron screamed, averted their eyes, or held their breath, as Halfdan’s Revenge left the realm of form. One moment we were under a grey, twilight sky, the next we were a dot in an infinite landscape of crystalline blue, and rapidly shifting colours. I’d been beyond the glass many thousands of times, but never had I seen it from such a height. Even the top of the Wolf House, far higher in the void than in the realm of form, was just a tiny speck beneath us. But, most alarming of all, was the enormous fiery bird, upon whose back the ship was nestled.

  The wind had dropped sharply, and everyone now stood, though no one said anything. No shouting, no swearing, just open mouths and wide eyes. Beyond the glass we were all beings of wyrd, and ripples of blue energy shone from every Eastron. A few of us stood out, with Tomas and I appearing to have the strongest wyrd, though a handful of others, including Siggy and Driftwood, had significant power. Ten minutes or more could have passed, when Daniel put a hand on my shoulder.

  “What?” I snapped, suddenly realizing I was breathing heavily.

  “Do you want to introduce yourself to the phoenix?” he asked, gesturing towards the front of the ship, where a huge red-and-yellow feathered head rose above the Fair Lady. “He’s very friendly. It might calm your nerves.”

  “Let me worry about my nerves,” I replied. “But thank you for not letting me fall over.” Daniel’s wyrd was subdued, with an earthy, dark green mantle across his head.

  I took a deep breath, and made sure everyone was okay. Tomas and Bjorn were at the starboard railing, engaged in an animated conversation about what they were seeing
. Driftwood and Kieran Greenfire were trying to muddle their way through the logistics of sailing through the void on the back of a giant spirit. Siggy and the blonde bosun were loudly reminding the crew that they were still Sea Wolves, and Tasha was silently marvelling at the primal spectacle of the void sky.

  I joined Daniel and slowly made my way forward of the quarterdeck. It was impossible to move quickly, with the amount of stimulus on display. The void sky was even more vibrant than the ground level I was used to. Spirits flew through the ephemeral air as clusters of brightly coloured birds, or vibrated on invisible currents, as tentacled, squid-like creatures. Far above my head, I saw shooting lights of indescribable colours, and depthless patches of black, suggesting distant realms of form and void.

  “Daniel,” I said, as we reached the bow of the ship. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

  “I told you,” he replied. “I’ve read about it in books.”

  “I think you’re lying,” I said. “I’ll add it to the list of things you’ve yet to tell me, along with your full name, and how you’re still alive.”

  I didn’t wait for a response, and strode up towards the Fair Lady. Either side of the serrated-steel battering ram were vibrant red feathers, with flashes of black and yellow. The phoenix had two pairs of wings, acting in concert to propel us through the sky, and I stood between its foremost shoulder blades. The spirit had a distinct neck, craning upwards and displaying a proud head, made partially from fire, and crested with two glittering red eyes.

  “Does it have a name?” I asked Daniel.

  “Phoenix spirits don’t,” replied the Sundered Wolf. “Few Eastron ever meet them. But we call it Anya’s Friend.”

  The bird twisted its neck around, so that its fiery eyes and hooked beak were facing me. Then it cawed. The sound was deafening and shook the deck of the Revenge, with every plank of wood vibrating at the sound. I felt as if it was talking to me, but I didn’t understand its meaning. The spirit was animated and excitable, almost playful, as its head bobbed up and down in front of me.