The Sword Falls

by A. J. Smith

  If they’d been less battered, most of those in the stateroom would have sworn or at least complained. As it was, all I got was a handful of grumbles and a few sighs.

  “Ah, fuck me,” grunted the High Captain, before leaning forward over the table and putting his face in his hands. “The Stranger and his void realm.”

  “I don’t know what salvation lies in the void,” I said. “But I know what faces us if we stay here, in the realm of form. We all know. We’ve all seen it. Marius was right… we can’t win against this enemy.”

  Wilhelm Greenfire straightened, banged both fists on the table, and let forth a guttural roar. It was a primal sound of anger, as if words couldn’t do justice to his emotions. Now more than ever, I needed him to back me up. The High Captain was second only to the First Fang, and I hoped his outburst would end favourably. No one interrupted his growl, nor spoke after it, as if it was only proper for us to await his reaction. At least that’s what I assumed, until the War Rat showed that he possessed a singular lack of etiquette.

  “She’s fuckin’ right,” said Charlie Vane.

  “I know she’s fucking right,” barked Wilhelm, glaring at the Kneeling Wolf captain. “Will you not allow me a moment to ruminate on the situation? I’ve seen just as many people die as you, Captain Vane.”

  “Sorry, milord,” said the War Rat. “Just helping you along.”

  Amidst the enormity of what was being decided, I took a moment to appreciate that the High Captain’s attitude towards the Kneeling Wolf had softened. There was a time when he complained about having to sit next to him. I sensed that a bond had been created between them as they defended the fleet. I glanced at Tomas and saw that the old spirit-master thought the same thing.

  Wilhelm stood from the table and took a deep breath. “You’re right, Adeline… or should I now call you First Fang?”

  “You should,” I replied. “I’ll always be the Alpha Wolf, but it’s not a title I enjoy. I’ll be your First Fang if you’ll have me.”

  “Got my support,” grunted Tynian Driftwood from the window. “And the support of the Revenge.”

  “And mine,” said Tomas Red Fang. “And the support of the Sundered Wolves.”

  The High Captain smiled. “Adeline Brand, First Fang of the Sea Wolves. We’ll set sail for Nowhere. We have many broken people to protect and many dead to remember. We can’t do either if we’re at war.” He paused and looked down at the table. “The cove where my youngest son died is now called Duncan’s Fall. It’s the only berth on Nowhere big enough for the whole fleet. Assuming the Grim Wolf and the Stranger’s void legionnaires let us approach.”

  *

  Fifty-three ships could move much more quickly than two hundred, and there was a highly strung intensity amongst the survivors, making our journey even swifter. The open seas of the Turtle Straits had always been our domain, with every Sea Wolf hungering for the beautiful rolling waves and the freedom of the endless oceans. Now, I felt as if the primal forces of the world had turned against us. The seas, the earth, the trees and mountains… I no longer trusted any of it. The claws of the Sunken God were buried deeply within this realm of form, and we needed to recognize that if we were to survive.

  Our formation was loose and every ship laid on as much canvas as they could, pushing us north, back towards Nibonay. It was a journey none of us thought we’d ever take again. Halfdan’s Revenge and the Lucretia were the two fastest warships and we sailed either side of the fleet, weaving our way onwards and keeping a keen eye on the treacherous water. It took an agonizing three days to reach the Bright Coast, where we led the fleet on a wide eastern arc, far enough from the ruins of the Severed Hand that no one could see clearly enough to make them cry. Then onwards, to the Gates of the Moon and the Red Straits. If my mind weren’t occupied by the existential threat to the world, I’d have felt as if I was coming home. These were familiar waters, with predictable tides and friendly winds. They’d been our allies for one hundred and sixty eight years, but no longer. The greatest servants of the Sunken God wouldn’t venture into the Inner Sea, but Daniel said that restriction wouldn’t last long.

  For the first time in months, I actually sought out company. I’d been solitary for so long that I found myself wondering how to start a conversation. Luckily, the smiling face of Tasha Strong was at hand. The Kneeling Wolf cook was skilled at making herself invisible during combat and highly visible at all other times. As we approached the Gates of the Moon and the abandoned hold of Moon Rock, Tasha and I stood at the bow of Halfdan’s Revenge, gazing down the craggy channels of the Red Straits. She didn’t talk, but her company was enough. Behind us, deployed into a single narrow convoy, was all that remained of the Sea Wolves, and it was a sight I didn’t want to see alone.

  “Do you mind if I intrude?” asked Eva Rage Breaker. The elder of the Starry Sky had probably saved the minds of many of the crew. Her gentle wyrd was all that allowed us to look upon the Whips. Though Hitch had not been so lucky.

  “Of course not,” I replied. “You’ve found a lot of new friends aboard this ship, Eva.”

  She still wore her woollen tunic and voluminous skirts, and had managed to fulfil a motherly role amongst a crew of killers. Her wyrd was subtle, but powerful enough to affect many people at once, and it travelled with her wherever she went.

  Tasha gave her a hug. “I’m glad we’re friends. I mean you and all the Sundered Wolves.” She smiled back at me. “The Wolves who sail, the Wolves who kneel, and the Wolves who are sundered. I know a lot of people are dead, Adeline, but it seems right that we’re all together.”

  Eva cradled Tasha’s face. “You’re sweet, Mistress Strong. I’m sure the First Fang needs you more than she’ll admit.”

  “Oh, I’ll happily admit it,” I replied. “She’s my best friend.”

  “And she speaks the truth,” said Eva. “The Wolves are united. The rest of the Sundered Wolves will reach Nibonay in less than a month. Do you think this Marius Cyclone will welcome us as well?”

  “He’ll welcome all of us or none of us,” I replied. “We are now one people.” I chuckled. “Just look at Wilhelm Greenfire and Charlie Vane… I think they might actually like each other.”

  “And me and you,” added Tasha. “And the three of us… it’s the way it should be.”

  “Agreed,” said Eva. “In this realm of form, and wherever we end up, we are bound to a single fate.”

  The three of us shared a moment of hope. It was conveyed by warm smiles and hugs, with few actual words. If it weren’t for Rage Breaker’s wyrd, I was sure that at least Tasha would start crying.

  “Trimming sails, Adeline,” shouted Siggy, from the helm. “Entering the Red Straits. Nice, shallow water.”

  “Very well,” I shouted back, turning from Tasha and Eva. “Keep it slow, I don’t want us to spread out too much.”

  “Aye,” she replied. “Plenty of sails ahead. Let’s hope they’re friendly.”

  With the island of Yish on our starboard side and Nibonay to port, the ship slowed. We were at the head of the convoy, flanked by the High Captain, aboard the Never, and the War Rat, aboard the Lucretia. Ahead of us, well before we sighted the island of Nowhere, were dozens of ships, anchored along both coasts. It was telling that no one thought them a threat. It was as if the will to fight had been dragged out of us.

  “They’re all Dark Brethren,” said Tasha. “But not warriors.”

  Either side of us was a rudimentary shanty town, built from interconnected ships and wooden planking. All across the vessels, looking at us in a mixture of fear and surprise, were Dark Brethren families. Children capered from one ship to another, men and women cooked food in steaming pots, and piles of stowed belongings filled every deck. I could see few warriors, though small cutters patrolled the open water between the two shores, lending aid to anyone in need. These were Marius Cyclone’s people, evacuated from the Dark Harbour. They filled the Red Straits, from the Gates of the Moon to Nowhere, and must have arrived just
after we evacuated the Severed Hand.

  “Siggy, nice and slow,” I ordered. “Let us not scare these people. Tasha, pass the word back through the fleet. These people are not to be disturbed.”

  She smiled. “Yes, of course.” The Kneeling Wolf rushed back to the quarterdeck and relayed my orders, making sure the fifty-two ships behind us were not taken by surprise. She then returned to my side.

  Ahead of us, one of the small cutters had stopped in our path and dropped her anchor to the shallow seabed. An armoured void legionnaire, minus his owl helmet, was shielding his eyes and peering at us. If we decided to attack there was nothing he could do, but they, like us, appeared to have little fight left in them.

  “Ahoy there,” I shouted from the bow, waving my arm at the legionnaire. “Would you be so good as to escort us to Duncan’s Fall?”

  The Revenge was barely moving, and gave the man ample time to converse with other legionnaires before responding. “You’re Adeline Brand,” replied the Dark Brethren. “We thought you’d gone south. What are you doing here?”

  “Things have changed,” I replied. “I want a truce. I have fifty-three ships here… mostly non-combatants, and I’d like to speak to Marius Cyclone.”

  There were barely a dozen legionnaires aboard the small ship and all got involved in the discussion, talking quickly and gesturing to the Sea Wolf warship that had just appeared. Behind us, the fleet was slowly entering the Red Straits, and the assembled Brethren, cluttered on both sides of the channel, were staring in disbelief, as if they thought us being here was as strange as we did.

  “Very well,” shouted the legionnaire. “Truce. Follow us. Your ships can anchor at Duncan’s Fall.”

  “Lead the way,” I confirmed, before turning back to the quarterdeck. “Siggy, follow him. I’m going to go and tell the High Captain to watch his manners when we go ashore.”

  We were now within a few feet of the floating shanty town and, as I walked along the deck, I found myself face to face with an elderly Dark Brethren woman. She had a black shawl over her head and pronounced wrinkles at the edges of her eyes. Clinging to her hip was a little boy, staring at me like I was his worst nightmare. I tried to smile at him, but he turned and buried his head in the old woman’s skirts, not wanting to look at the scary Sea Wolf. In that moment I realized our two peoples now had much in common. We’d both left our homes and had nowhere else to go. We were both hunted by enemies far more powerful than ourselves… and now we both had to trust Marius Cyclone.

  *

  With the fleet anchoring in the shallow waters of Duncan’s Fall, I took a launch to the low coast of Nowhere. Tynian Driftwood, needing crutches to move until he got fitted for an artificial leg, was with me, as were Charlie Vane, Tomas Red Fang and Wilhelm Greenfire. Siggy and Tasha were also at my side, with Eva Rage Breaker an unobtrusive presence at the back of the boat. In the cloudy skies above, I expected to see the churning void storm of the Maelstrom, but all I saw was a clear shaft of light, appearing to go on forever in infinite layers of shadow.

  “It’s true,” mused the High Captain. “I’d heard about this, but I didn’t believe it. The Stranger somehow calmed the Maelstrom.”

  “If that’s true,” I replied, “maybe the void realm is also true.”

  We left the boat and strode up the rocky beach. Unlike the floating shanty town of refugees, the island of Nowhere was well guarded. All along the high cliffs, either side of us, were void legionnaires of the Dark Harbour, holding defensive positions behind newly built wooden palisades and guard towers. They were protecting the island with thousands of warriors, keeping its contents safe, but they let us approach unmolested. We were not the Sea Wolves who’d been their enemies for a hundred and fifty years, and they were not the Dark Brethren we’d always demonized. Both of us had seen and accepted a larger truth… the Eastron were now an endangered people.

  Ahead of us, where the beach met a grassy ridge, was a triple line of wooden walls, graduated inwards, with ballistae and catapults facing the bay. There was an open gate in the middle and a group of people walking to meet us.

  “Watch your manners,” I said to my companions.

  “I try always to be polite,” said Tomas Red Fang.

  “I’m a different man these days,” said Wilhelm Greenfire. “You don’t need to worry about me being rude.”

  “I’ve never even been here before,” said Driftwood, trying to hide that he was out of breath from using his crutches.

  “I don’t give a fuck,” added Charlie Vane.

  “Adeline, you don’t mean me, do you?” asked Tasha, when everyone else had finished.

  I smiled, realizing how much I’d missed feeling emotions. “No, Tasha, I didn’t mean you.”

  “She meant me,” said Wilhelm. “But she doesn’t need to worry. My youngest son died here… and I tire of being angry.”

  Those coming to meet us stopped as soon as they descended the ridge, and waited for us to approach. They were mostly Dark Brethren void legionnaires, with two notable exceptions. Xavyer Ice, called the Grim Wolf, elder of Cold Point, stood in the centre, his bulky shoulders and piercing blue eyes making him stand out. The old man of Ice looked as much like a bear as I remembered, though he had a broad smile on his bearded face. Next to him, far smaller than the Grim Wolf, but far more significant, stood a pale-skinned man, wearing a grey robe. But it was one of the void legionnaires who spoke.

  “Welcome to Nowhere, Adeline Brand,” said the black-armoured Dark Brethren. “My name is Jessimion Death Spell, commander of the third void legion, and I speak for Lord Marius Cyclone.”

  “Where is he?” I asked. “He and I need to have a chat. I need to tell him he was right.”

  “He’s not here,” replied Death Spell. “You can have a chat with me.”

  “What about him?” I asked, nodding at the pale man. “He seems oddly familiar.” I remembered a shadow descending across the Severed Hand and saving us from the chaos spawn of the Sunken God. I remembered a shadow giant, apparently summoned by the Stranger, and confronted by Rys Coldfire and I. I didn’t know why the memory appeared, but the pale man vibrated with power.

  “I have a simple question,” said the strange man with pale skin, white hair and pink eyes. “Are you coming with us?”

  I looked across the faces of my companions, smiling at each in turn, before looking past them to all that remained of the Sea Wolves, anchored off Duncan’s Fall. I was about to say something I never thought I’d hear a Sea Wolf say, let alone say myself. “Yes,” I said. “We can’t fight… We want to flee and, in this realm of form, we can’t flee far enough. So, yes, we’re coming with you.”

  “Good,” said the pale man. “You are most welcome.”

  “So, where the fuck is Marius Cyclone?” I asked.

  Epilogue

  Marius Cyclone, called the Stranger, elder of the Dark Harbour, was badly wounded. He was also severely pissed off. He’d made a mistake and it had cost him dearly. Snake Guard was not a provincial town, nor a fort unprepared for attack, but ten thousand void legionnaires, attacking from both sides, was far too much to repel, even for the Outrider Knights. He should have evacuated when he had the chance. He should have fled back to the Dark Harbour, and he certainly shouldn’t have waited for Quinn to take Prince Oliver into the void. It had been a litany of mistakes, since he went to the Silver Parliament. He’d never thought that the Winterlord prince could be turned, even with Santago’s manipulation. Perhaps, deep in his mind, Marius still believed in the nobility of the Dawn Claw. But now, after seeing the Outrider Knights massacred, he had to admit that he’d made several big fucking mistakes.

  He’d seen Gentle, the commander of Snake Guard, beheaded in the central square and he’d seen the man who’d done it. Prince Oliver Dawn Claw had changed. He was encased in plate armour, with a sickly green hue to the metal. He’d always been a huge man, but now he appeared swollen and unreal. He’d killed Gentle, and removed his helmet, showing everyone what devo
tion to a foul fish-god did to the complexion. His hairless face was emaciated, with translucent skin stretched across an expression of sadistic arrogance, and green veins, pulsing beneath every inch of exposed skin. Whatever he was, he was no longer Eastron. His movements were strange and jerky, as if he was getting used to his body.

  Marius tried not to think about the Eagle Prince as he pulled himself through the northern sluice gate and out of Snake Guard. The Great Serpent was a mighty river and the fort was built across a huge fork in its path. For those who knew, the grated channels could be used to traverse under the huge walls. Being submerged in freezing water was a small price to pay for survival. He had three obvious wounds, and a few more minor cuts and bruises, though he didn’t think he was in immediate danger of death. The worst cut was to his side. A void legionnaire had managed to sneak a spear point through a small gap in his armour. It caused a lot of blood, but wasn’t too deep.

  “I can’t die here,” grunted Marius, pulling himself into a seated position against the last sluice gate. “I’ve got so much left to do. I’ve got a cat to get back to… unless Jessica’s killed the little bastard.”

  He was slumped at the far end of an arched stone tunnel, with a foot of water rushing through the steel grating. The water rippled against his waist and flowed away from his leg and side with a muddy tinge of blood. His left thigh had an arrow through it, preventing him from walking. His thigh, his side, and a nasty cut on his forearm all needed attention within a few hours or the Stranger would lose more blood than he could spare.

  Somehow he had to find a way back to the Dark Harbour. Thousands more Dark Brethren needed to be evacuated and now there would be no Outriders to cover their escape. Marius began to make calculations in his head. He thought of those already on Nowhere, ready to leave this realm of form. He thought of those on their way, gliding through the Inner Sea and the Red Straits. Those Dark Brethren were on their own, but the ones at the Dark Harbour still needed his help.