The Sword Falls

by A. J. Smith

  “By the fucking Bright Lands,” exclaimed the captain. “Even catapults charged with wyrd can’t do that.”

  “Nothing can do that,” I replied, sharing his amazement.

  The smoke didn’t clear quickly. It rolled in sooty clouds away from the initial explosions, only gradually revealing the destruction. Two hundred pairs of eyes saw the depth barge first. It looked like two of the ballistae bolts had overshot the Sunken Men and detonated against the coral and seaweed of their vessel. It was now a floating hull, covered in barnacles, with broken and smouldering pieces floating in the shallow water. Closer to the Revenge and enveloped in tumbling clouds of smoke, were huge, mangled fish parts. Half the creatures had been blown up, another four had burned to death, leaving two Sunken Men still alive, though neither was a threat. They’d been at the edges of the line and were both covered in black dust. They flailed in the water and scratched feverishly at their own flesh, trying to get clear of the substance, but it blinded them and burned their skin.

  I was about to roar a chant of victory and watch the two monstrous beings die, when Kieran Greenfire screamed something from over my right shoulder.

  “Behind us. To arms!” shouted the quartermaster.

  I spun around, as did almost the entire crew. On the port side of Halfdan’s Revenge, clambering over the railings, were four more Sunken Men. The ship was still rolling from its sudden stop and the action of the ballistae, and no one had been looking to port. They wore the same tight-fitting armour of coral and shells, and held the same spears, though these were shorter and topped with serrated pincers. Each had a jutting lower jaw, lined with irregular teeth, and a spiky red fin, fanned out like the crest of an ornate helmet. They moved slowly, levering their gangly limbs onto the deck.

  The closest Sea Wolf was the tall blonde bosun, standing at the base of the mainmast. She froze in place, looking up in horror at the ten foot monster looming over her. I shouted for her to move, but she didn’t respond. Half the crew were like statues, unable to move against the threat.

  “To arms!” repeated Kieran, a catch of fear in his voice.

  The bosun reached for her cutlass with trembling hands, but she had no opportunity to draw it. One of the monsters craned over her and opened its grotesque mouth, exposing jagged teeth. Its jaw flexed and snapped shut around the bosun’s head, biting through her neck in one powerful motion. The creature straightened, gulping down the severed head with a sinuous ripple of its gullet. The decapitated corpse spewed forth a gout of blood and slumped to the deck. Three more sailors were close by and were quickly eviscerated by pincers.

  Then the rest of us reacted. Half the crew were still rooted to the spot in fear, but close to a hundred Sea Wolves summoned light-blue wyrd into their bodies and answered the command of their quartermaster. Tynian was a step behind me, and Kieran a step behind him.

  “Fire?” asked Tasha a second time, this time in a squeal.

  It hadn’t been a command, but was answered as if it had been. A dozen sailors touched flame to the tips of their arrows and aimed high-tension short bows at the four Sunken Men.

  I had no spectral limb to extend, but my wyrd was still powerful. I vaulted from the quarterdeck, drawing my cutlass as I landed. “Shoot them!” I commanded.

  The bows flexed, just as a line of Sea Wolves pounced from the starboard railing to attack the huge creatures. Though terrifying, it was a powerful thing to be a part of. These men and women had lived in fear of the Sunken Men their whole lives. They’d seen them at Karcosa, and again at the Bay of Bliss, but they’d never crossed blades with them. As for me… I no longer had the power of the Old Bitch of the Sea, but I threw myself forwards anyway.

  Half the fire arrows struck, though only a handful actually penetrated the creatures’ blubbery flesh. They did little physical damage, but the fire caused alarm in two of the four monsters. It wasn’t as extreme as their reaction to the black dust, but cowed them just enough for us to get close, past the vicious pincers of their spears. Driftwood, Kieran and I engaged the closest, with further packs of Sea Wolves surrounding the other three. It was like no fight I’d ever been part of. The Sunken Men flailed left and right, flinging slime over everything, using no discernible skill, but killing with little effort. Heads were smashed and bodies were broken, but the Sea Wolves did not retreat.

  I ducked under a huge, bulbous arm and stabbed out at the creature’s armpit. Driftwood leapt past me, wrapping his arms around the things neck. Kieran did the same to its ankle, as the three of us, assisted by two more of the crew, tried to wrestle it to the deck. It was far stronger than all of us, but less coordinated, with each movement requiring a slow wind up. Even still, the jagged fins on its body and serrated coral of its armour caused significant injury. A slice opened across my face, I saw Driftwood almost lose a leg, and Kieran howled in pain as a slender barb was driven through his stomach.

  Left and right, sailors tried desperately to entangle the creatures, or use wyrd to penetrate their thick blubber with cutlasses and falchions. Every movement made by the Sunken Men caused death. Sailors were crushed or eviscerated, with a few meeting their end at the tips of vicious teeth. No one retreated. Collectively, we managed to wrestle two of them onto their backs, where they wriggled and writhed against the wooden deck.

  “Go for the head!” I shouted, putting all my weight into a downward thrust at the creature’s eye.

  I couldn’t see who was alive and who was dead. Everything just fell into a single point of desperation. Kieran had been flung back onto the quarterdeck and I couldn’t see if he was moving. Driftwood, his leg a mess of blood, snarled and grasped his cutlass in both hands, stabbing in a frenzy. Between the two of us, with a raging torrent of wyrd, we impaled its head, bursting its eyes and making the thing twitch uncontrollably. Next to us, another Sunken Man was smashing its arms into the deck, breaking railings and putting holes in the wooden planking as it tried to kill the five Sea Wolves stabbing at its head. It failed and slumped dead. The last two creatures were still standing and appeared to be gaining the upper hand, with a dozen mangled corpses encircling them.

  “Back away,” growled Daniel Doesn’t Die, appearing from below deck, with Eva Rage Breaker and Siggy Blackeye behind him.

  He wore no armour and held no weapon, but a fiery red shine in his eyes made it clear to all that he’d summoned considerable wyrd. It was the first time any of us had seen him use his spiritual power and his eyes were difficult to look at, like staring at the sun. Bizarrely, even the two remaining Sunken Men reacted to his appearance, turning their fishy heads towards him. I saw their gills pulse and popping slime appear in their mouths.

  Driftwood dropped to the deck, clutching his bloody leg and pulling himself away from the twitching corpse. I left my cutlass in the creature’s head and helped the captain move away. Other wounded Sea Wolves stepped, fell and flailed their way from the ruined port railing, dragging wounded friends with them and quickly clearing a small section of blood-soaked deck.

  Daniel did not appear afraid and strode from the downward stairs, letting red-and-gold wyrd flood through his body as he marched at the Sunken Men. Behind him, neither Eva nor Siggy wielded blades, but each held small wooden casks. Daniel waved them forwards and each flung their cask at the two remaining Sunken Men. Eva was not as strong as Siggy, and her throw barely left her grasp before it struck the deck and clattered towards the nearest creature. Siggy’s throw was more energetic and struck the second creature in the chest. Both casks burst sufficiently to release the black dust within, coating the torso of one monster and the ankles and feet of another.

  “Back away,” repeated Daniel.

  The two Sunken Men emitted high-pitched howls of pain, like the slow splintering of glass. They dropped their spears and focused all of their efforts on ridding themselves of the dust. Their black eyes pulsed and widened, and they clawed at their slimy flesh in a wild frenzy. Any wounded Sea Wolf still within range was dragged away, leaving only the de
ad to be crushed by the flailing movements.

  Then Daniel’s wyrd flared. It spat from his eyes, causing dark red veins of light to rush along each of his arms and form burning orbs in his palms. It was bizarre and mighty wyrd-craft, strange even for a woman who’d carried the power of a totem. There was the opaque figure of a huge bear, superimposed behind the Sundered Wolf and visible only for an instant. As he advanced, leaving Siggy and Eva in his wake, his immense wyrd infused his entire body. His approach was the only thing the monsters appeared to notice, almost cutting through the pain of the black dust. They were afraid of him, and even as the dust burned their bodies, they tried desperately to leave the corpse-strewn deck of the Revenge and return to the safety of the water.

  “No escape for you,” grunted Daniel Doesn’t Die, weaving his flaming wyrd into a dozen ropes and snaring the two huge creatures, as a farmer would rope a bull. He turned and appeared to see the slaughtered Sea Wolves for the first time. His face fell into a deep frown and his eyes sought me out across the deck, before he gritted his teeth and tightened the restraining ropes of wyrd.

  The otherworldly sounds of agony slowly fell into gurgling, as we watched two Sunken Men begin to smoulder. They fell to their flabby knees, unable to move, as the black dust ate through their organic armour and flayed their skin. Everyone on deck just watched as they died in agony, their skin, bones and innards slowly reduced to foul-smelling soup next to the ruined port railing.

  *

  The four Sunken Men had killed twelve Sea Wolves and injured a further ten, three of whom, including Kieran Greenfire, would likely not recover from their wounds. They’d put massive holes in the deck and destroyed a significant section of the port railing and the ballistae deck beneath. Halfdan’s Revenge was battered and bleeding, but she was not out of the fight. In time, she could be made whole, but for now the ship was in desperate need of repair.

  I was below deck, in Bjorn Coldfire’s chamber, assisting Tomas as he sawed off Tynian Driftwood’s leg, just below the knee. His shin bone had been sliced clean through by the serrated barbs of the Sunken Man. It was too severe to heal, and the cantankerous captain had insisted it be removed.

  “Every true Sea Wolf pirate needs a wooden leg,” he grunted, through gritted teeth.

  “The High Captain’s spirit-master has a metal one,” offered Tomas, lining up the saw. “They call him Clatterfoot. Addie, I can’t see, get rid of the blood.”

  I swabbed the gruesome wound with a wet cloth, revealing a mess of bone and flesh. “Don’t worry, Tynian,” I said. “Tomas cut my arm off a few months ago. He’s good at this healing shit.”

  Driftwood closed his eyes and nodded. Sweat poured down his face and I felt he was about to pass out. “Tynian,” I barked. “What was her name? The blonde bosun who was killed? I never asked.”

  “Karanya,” he replied, with a gulp. “Karanya Rune. She was the daughter of your father’s spirit-master. She fucking hated her name.”

  Tomas began to cut at his leg, and Tynian grasped Bjorn Coldfire’s hand so tight that his knuckles turned white. We all used wyrd to dampen his pain, but having your leg cut off was hard to ignore. “Is Kieran alive?” he grunted, opening his bloodshot eyes and pointing them at me, like a loaded ballistae bolt.

  “Yes,” I replied, helping Bjorn to hold him down. “Daniel and Eva are tending to him. He’s lost a lot of blood and there are spines stuck through his stomach.”

  “Daniel,” he murmured, as the sound of metal through bone made me wince. “That fucking Sundered Wolf who can’t die.” He closed his eyes again and arched his back. “The man has serious wyrd. More than I’ve seen. Who the fuck is he?”

  “I don’t think he’d want me to tell you,” I replied. “And I don’t know about his wyrd. Just be grateful the Sundered Wolves are now our friends.”

  Tomas Red Fang wiped his brow and leant into a final cut of the saw, severing Driftwood’s leg just below the knee. Bjorn was quick to place a hand on the wound, pushing wyrd into the bloody limb and causing a foul smell of burning flesh to fill the chamber. Tomas sighed and discarded the bloody limb into a bucket, before wrapping linen bandages around the stump of Tynian’s leg.

  “All done,” said the elderly spirit-master. “Give it a day or two for Bjorn’s wyrd to properly seal the wound and we can talk about a wooden – or metal – leg.”

  Driftwood was now deathly pale, but no longer gritting his teeth in pain. “The ship’s yours, Adeline… look after her… and find the fleet, or what’s left of it.”

  30

  It took time for Halfdan’s Revenge to make way. Once the anchor was raised, we had to manoeuvre carefully to keep from running aground. With me as captain and Siggy as my quartermaster, we slowly crept back towards the Western Drift. Karanya was dead, Kieran was dying, and Tynian was sleeping off an amputated leg. I was short of loud voices, but Tasha and Daniel did their best to help, and it even seemed fitting that gentler voices be used following such a devastating attack. Rage Breaker said little, but drifted amongst the crew, distributing kind words where they were needed, and telling the crew that we had strength we had not yet shown. Tomas Red Fang remained at my side and I saw the old man assessing me when he thought I wasn’t looking, as if he had appointed himself guardian of my mental wellbeing.

  “Stop looking at me,” I snapped, glaring down at my spirit-master. “I’m fine.”

  “Say that again when we pass Hook Point,” he replied. “You know those frogs weren’t here for us, Addie. They were here for the fleet and they’ll have friends.”

  “We’re building up speed,” I said. “We’ll pass Hook Point at a fair clip. If there’s something we don’t want to see, we can stay on the drift and use the dust at range.… now we know how much they hate it.”

  “Are we still fighting back against the Sunken God?” he asked. It was a simple question with far reaching consequences, and one I balked at answering. Luckily, the crow’s nest shouted before I had to.

  “Sails!” boomed Hitch, from the top of the mainmast. “Around the Point.”

  “How many?” answered Siggy Blackeye, from the helm. “Is it the fleet?”

  There were a hundred sailors on deck and all eyes looked aloft, but Hitch didn’t answer straightaway.

  “Hitch, what do you see?” I shouted. “Is it the fleet?”

  “Wreckage in the water,” was the grunted reply. “Look to the south.”

  Everyone made their way to the splintered port side of the ship, as Halfdan’s Revenge passed Hook Point. We were moving swiftly on the Western Drift and the spectacle before us was revealed all at once. In the deep water, closest to us, was the wreckage of a dozen ships. The hulls varied in size, with the remains of large transport vessels and fast cutters floating next to each other, but all had been breached from beneath. Closer to the Bone Coast, as it fell away to the south, was a floating blanket of wood, canvas and metal. Chests, scrolls, weaponry and baggage of all kinds, bobbed gently in the shallows, along with more wreckage. But no bodies.

  The sails Hitch had seen were in a line, either run aground on the distant gravel beach, or stationary in the shallowest of the coastal waters. Perhaps fifty ships… all that remained of the Sea Wolf fleet. Between them and us was a line of depth barges, prowling amongst the wreckage, but unable to enter the shallows. Unlike the barge that had attacked us, these ones had not unloaded their crew to finish the job.

  “Identify those ships?” I shouted aloft, pointing to the distant sails. “Who’s left?”

  “I see the Never,” replied Hitch. “The High Captain’s sail. She’s in the shallows. A couple of other warships are beached… on purpose. Err, the big one is the Green Dawn… looks like the only transport ship left. Can’t make out the others. Fifty-one… no, fifty-three ships.”

  Suddenly the only sound was from our hull cutting through the water. No one spoke and they barely moved. Everyone could see the destruction of the fleet, and everyone had heard Hitch. Fifty-three ships out of t
wo hundred. Thousands and thousands of Sea Wolves were dead. They were dead and they’d never got the chance to fight back. Perhaps they’d not even managed to draw their blades. The Sunken Men didn’t fight as warriors, meeting their enemies face to face, and that had been their biggest advantage. We only knew how to fight face to face. We’d never needed another method. Driftwood had called us an endangered people, and seeing the wreckage of all that it meant to be a Sea Wolf, I knew he was right.

  Looking over the fallen faces of the crew, I saw despair and I felt everything that had been lost, like a hundred slow cuts. We’d lost the Severed Hand, we’d lost Last Port, and now we’d lost the majority of our remaining people. Not just duellists, spirit-masters and warriors, but families and innocents, along with the scrolls of our history, the fabric of our heraldry and all that the Sea Wolves had ever done. I wanted to cry, but I was too angry. My eyes began to sting as I looked, but they wouldn’t close, as if my guilt at sending the fleet wouldn’t let them. The anger rose higher and higher, sending pins and needles across my skin. I turned away, sharply averting my eyes from the wreckage. I didn’t look at the motionless crew, or consider the fastest way of escape. I just looked at the deck and realized I was in command of a mighty Sea Wolf warship, armed with black dust.

  “Bring us about!” I commanded, as loudly as my lungs would allow.

  Everyone on deck looked at me, in a wave of gormless silence, until Siggy Blackeye, still standing at the helm, regained her senses. “Aye,” she said, in a choked whisper. “What the fuck are you all looking at?” she screamed at the crew. “You have been given an order!”

  I strode across the quarterdeck. “Trim sails, prepare the starboard ballistae. We are going to blow these fishy cunts to pieces and rescue those ships.”