by James Maxey
Before us, on their knees, were the frozen bodies of Jetsam, Mako, and Rigger, Gale’s three sons, their faces locked in silent screams beneath a sheen of ice. I’d seen this magic before. Aurora had frozen more than her share of unruly patrons at the Black Swan, and the magic seldom proved fatal. Victims of this spell were simply shocked into unconsciousness by the sudden blast of cold, then held upright by their rigid ice exoskeletons. As long as they were freed before they suffocated, the three Romers would likely survive.
I could no longer hear Menagerie howling. I spotted a lump curled on the deck behind Mako’s bulky form that might have been a frozen dog, though it was difficult to tell given the fog, the dim lighting, and the limits of my monochrome vision.
We were surrounded by at least two dozen women. At first they appeared to be frozen just as the Romer boys were, since they were coated in ice. But, at a second glance, I saw that the ice was instead shaped into armor and swords. They were plainly conscious, staring at us with narrowed eyes, their breath coming out in gusts of fog. Their lips and cheeks were very dark; beneath their semi-transparent armor, none of them were clothed. It struck me as a rather uncomfortable way to go into battle. Not that they were going into battle just yet; they were merely standing, ice blades at the ready, as if waiting for a command.
“Captain Romer, I presume?” said a woman’s voice from just beyond the fog.
“What have you done to my sons?” Gale demanded.
“They are not yet dead,” the voice answered. Slowly, from the fog directly before us, a trio of figures emerged. In the center was a woman also in ice armor, but unlike the others, her ice was pale white rather than clear, concealing her body. She wore a cloak of white fox pelts, and carried a sword made of jagged, bubble-filled ice in the shape of a crescent moon. I’d seen this particular ice before; it was the same substance that tipped the Jagged Heart.
Flanking the woman were two creatures like nothing I’d ever seen. My years of association with Menagerie had given me a decent knowledge of scores of beasts from lands I couldn’t dream of. Somewhere in his travels he’d encountered rhinos and cobras and wolverines, or at least gotten hold of their blood. But given Menagerie’s fondness for big, toothy predators, I can’t believe he wouldn’t have added the monsters before me to his arsenal if he knew about them. They looked like a cross between a gorilla and a grizzly bear, walking upright, with snow-white pelts, long arms ending in dagger-claws, and gaping jaws filled with fangs.
I was vaguely aware of the Romer sisters climbing the stairs behind me. Sage was clever enough to bring a lantern with her, which greatly improved the lighting, though not my sense of dread. The pale light made the riggings look ghostly.
Infidel hadn’t put in an appearance yet. Had something happened to her? Or was she just taking her time getting dressed?
Captain Romer studied the woman in the white fox cloak. “Who are you? You obviously want something from us. State your demands.”
“I’m known as Purity,” the woman answered. “I’ve come for Ivory Blade.”
Captain Romer frowned. “Ivory Blade isn’t on this ship. He hasn’t been a passenger of mine in three years, in fact.”
“There’s no time for your lies,” said Purity. “Blade stole the Jagged Heart from us only months ago. He shielded himself from my seers with his somnomancy, but in his hunt for Greatshadow he’s let down his guard. My most trusted seer has fixed her sightless gaze upon his armor, which is aboard this very ship. I’ve no quarrel with you or your family, Captain Romer. Give us Blade and we shall let you live. Defy us, and I shall command the ice sheet that has locked your ship within its unbreakable grasp to crush the hull of the Freewind. You’re three hundred miles from the nearest shore, a long way for even a Wanderer to swim. Not that you’ll have a chance to try. Long before your ship is torn apart my yetis and ice-maidens will finish off everyone aboard. Are you so loyal to Blade that you’d sacrifice your family?”
Captain Romer’s face was completely neutral. She couldn’t turn over Blade if she wanted to. But she also knew that the Jagged Heart was down below, wrapped inside a sail, and this was what Purity was looking for. The only reason to find Blade was to find the harpoon.
“Thank you for your offer,” said Captain Romer. “You’ve made what I’m sure you feel is a fair bargain, trading my family and ship for a notorious spy who is doubtless guilty of the theft you’re charging him with. I see only three small obstacles to making a deal with you.”
“And these are?” asked Purity.
“First, Ivory Blade isn’t aboard this ship. Second, were he aboard, it’s against my code to traffic in human lives. And, third, you’re mistaken in thinking the Freewind is trapped by ice.”
Purity chuckled. “I understand your confusion. These are the tropics, after all. But the Ice-Moon Blade is a conduit for the elemental power of Hush. I could freeze a thousand earthly seas with its frigid touch.”
“No doubt,” said Captain Romer. “But the Freewind is known as the fastest ship upon the waves for a reason.”
“What does your speed matter now?” asked Purity. “You’ve been taken by surprise. Don’t you understand? Your ship is already icebound. The sea has been frozen for half a mile in every direction.”
“No,” said Captain Romer, kneeling. The ice sizzled as her sword of phosphors touched it, boiling away a saucer-sized hole to reveal the wooden deck. She placed her bare hand upon the burgundy wood. “You see, there is no ice upon the Sea of Wine.”
And suddenly the sky was a violent amber-red, streaked with clouds, like a sunset seeping from every point on the horizon. The fog was gone and the chilly air banished by a blast furnace of hot, humid air. The ship rolled as it rose upon a wave and the sails above us snapped in the sudden breeze, cracking the ice that coated them. All around us the sea was full of blood-dark swells topped with amber foam; the scent of wine filled my mouth, stirring old thirsts.
“We sail an abstract realm where Hush does not dwell,” said Captain Romer, her eyes locked upon Purity. “Here is my bargain: Free my sons and surrender, and I shall put you ashore upon a deserted isle when we return to the material world. Defy me, and I’ll have you keelhauled in the Sea of Wine. Whatever hell you may believe in, this fate shall prove a hundred times worse.”
“Hush,” said Purity, which at first I took for a command, but then understood to be an invocation. The crescent-sword glowed like the moon and the temperature dropped noticeably as a beam of pale light flashed toward the captain. She jumped straight up, grabbing the riggings, sending a shower of melting ice down upon me as she flipped her legs up from the path of the ray. Instantly, my world dimmed as a thick sheet of ice formed on my body. I’m certain, had I been human, the shock of the cold would have incapacitated me. Instead, I simply punched myself in the face with a fist of roots and knocked the ice free.
The Romer girls joined their mother in the riggings as the ice-armored women lurched forward like zombies. It looked like the time for chatting was over and the time for hitting things had begun.
I’ve never been a brawler; usually, when a fight breaks out, I either hide behind Infidel or run for the nearest exit. But, after who-knows-how-long of being trapped in this wooden body, I welcomed the opportunity to let out some frustrations. I was conflicted, however; I’ve enough chivalry in me to feel bad about hitting a woman, even though Purity was obviously the leader of the opposition. Fortunately, I was spared from my squeamishness by being pounced upon by one of the yetis. My barrel ribs cracked as he knocked me to the deck. His slathering jaws rushed toward my face, but I shoved my left arm between his teeth before his jaws could fully close. I felt pressure, but no pain. More importantly, though this beast likely outweighed me by half a ton, I was strong enough to push him back. Remembering that I had a sword in my free hand, I stabbed the beast in the side of its skull. To my shock, the iron blade punched straight through the monster’s temple and came out the other side. Its eyes rolled up in its head as i
t collapsed upon me.
Despite my strength, I had little leverage to push the beast off, and as imposing as the yeti looked, its shaggy hair proved to be as soft as lamb’s wool, and it apparently survived the artic cold by being built largely of blubber. On top of this, the deck was coated with ice, which completely robbed me of traction. At least half a minute passed as I fought to rid myself of the dead weight. When my head was at last free, I was confronted by a horrible sight. Every last Romer daughter was frozen in the rigging, completely immobile. The second yeti had leapt into the rigging and was giving chase to Gale, who retreated ever higher, toward the crow’s-nest.
All around, the ice-armored women were watching the battle above. Purity appeared displeased by their lack of initiative. “Mindless fools!” she shouted. “Don’t just stand there! Go below! Bring me Ivory Blade!”
The woman nearest the hatch turned just in time to find a knife flying from below deck. The blade came to a sudden halt between her eyes. As she fell backward, Brand jumped onto the deck, a leather belt holding a dozen throwing knives slung over his shoulder. He ducked and rolled with impressive speed as Purity shot a freezing moonbeam in his direction, popped up to his feet six inches clear of the ray, and let loose with a carefully aimed blade, a thin one, almost a dart. The slender knife hit the gauntlet of ice Purity wore on her sword hand and slipped between the joints at her knuckles. She sucked in air as the Ice-Moon blade slipped from her grasp.
“Protect me!” she shouted, as the women lunged to form a human wall between her and Brand. The others closed in on Brand, looking cautious, unsure who he’d next target with the blades he held in each hand.
Then, from the hatch, came the last person on earth I expected to see. When the mane of silver-blonde hair first thrust above the deck, I thought Infidel had at last joined the fight. Instead, a dwarf waddled onto the deck, dressed in a wig and a feminine cape, wearing dark lipstick and heavy rouge. The dwarf wore plate armor, polished to a mirror gleam, the breastplate fashioned to resemble actual breasts. Under the bizarre female attire, I recognized my old friend Bigsby, the fishmonger. He was armed with a mace, also polished to a silvery finish, which he brandished as he stepped between Brand and the advancing warriors.
“Back!” he shouted, in a falsetto pitch. “Lay down your arms or face the wrath of Princess Innocent Brightmoon, daughter of King Valiant Brightmoon, champion of the faithful!”
“You tell ’em, Sis,” said Brand.
A yeti hit the deck inches before Bigsby, knocking him off his feet, and a moment later, Captain Romer dropped onto the beast’s chest, driving her phosphor blade deep into his gut. The beast yowled in pain, but wasn’t dead. He snatched the captain by the nape of her neck and flung her skyward, on an arc that carried her out over the waves of wine. Brand again proved to have reflexes like a cat, as he grabbed a coil of rope and tossed it on a path that would intercept Gale. The rope went abruptly taut just after she fell out of sight.
Before Brand could reel the captain in, both he and Bigsby suddenly went rigid as a sheet of ice coated them. Purity was now holding the crescent blade in her left hand, which, in hindsight, was pretty much exactly what I would have done if I’d been her. I finally managed to kick myself free of the dead yeti and rose to my feet. I was the sole defender left standing.
And then there was light. The sky that had once been sunsets in all directions suddenly had a single sun as Infidel shot up from the hold, racing high above the crow’s-nest to survey the scene.
“Am I too late for the festivities?” she shouted down. “This damn armor has, like, two hundred buckles.”
“Ivory Blade!” Purity shouted, raising her weapon overhead. “You’ve taken what’s rightfully mine!”
The enchanted blade glowed. I sensed she was about to fire a freeze ray at Infidel, who had never mastered ducking. So I grabbed Bigsby by his frozen arm and threw him. He caught Purity dead in the chest and she went down hard.
The yeti Gale had stabbed was back on his feet, bleeding profusely. He turned to me with baleful eyes. I glanced down at his brother, who still had my sword jutting from his temple. Before I could bend to grab the blade, the yeti lunged toward me, jaws open wide, claws outstretched.
With a flash of light and a loud WHAP! the yeti vanished. Infidel was standing in front of me and the yeti was a diminishing speck hurtling out over the waves. The ice-maiden minions raised their hands to shield their eyes from the luminance of the Gloryhammer, which left them completely vulnerable as Infidel danced forward and began launching them over the sides of the boat one by one. A few landed near the ship. As they sunk beneath the waves, I swear they were laughing. It was a sound I knew well, the sound of my own laughter when I was completely sotted and everything tragic in the world was rendered comic.
I had no time to ponder the effects of the enchanted sea. Purity was rising again, sword in hand once more. Having run out of dwarves to fling, I decided it was time to put aside my aversion to punching a woman. I charged across the deck, slush splashing beneath my oversized boots. The ice coating was melting in the warm air of the Sea of Wine; indeed, Mako was now almost free of ice, and I was certain I heard him groan as he fell to his knees. Bigsby had all his ice knocked off of him by the impact, and he was dragging himself toward his platinum wig. Not having retrieved my sword, I balled my gloved root into the tightest fist I could manage and let loose with a savage right hook, clocking Purity in the jaw. Her ice helmet proved sturdy, and didn’t dent or crack from the impact. I’m certain I would have killed her otherwise. As it was, her eyes lost focus, the Ice-Moon Blade slipped from her hand, and she went down, limp.
I rubbed my knuckles, not because my hand hurt, but because I’d watched Infidel do the same gesture a thousand times and it seemed perfectly natural. I heard movement nearby and spun around. There was an ice-maiden charging toward me, sword brandished high overhead. I caught her in the gut with a solid kick that shattered her armor, and she folded to her knees, vomiting on my boots.
I felt sick to my own stomach, despite, technically, not having one.
I glanced around the deck. All the intruders were down; Infidel and I were the only people left standing. Cinnamon, up in the riggings, began to slip from her frozen perch and Infidel flashed toward her, catching her just as she fell. In seconds, Infidel had peeled the remaining frozen Romers from the ropes and brought them to the deck. By now the ice that remained in the sails and riggings had turned into a rain. Water ran off the frozen figures on the deck in great rivulets. The air echoed with people sucking in gasps of air as the ice covering their faces fell away.
I wanted to run to Infidel and hug her, to let her know I was still with her, but this lay beyond the scope of the freedom Sorrow had granted me. Fortunately, I was free to help protect the crew, so I knelt beside Mako and brushed off his remaining ice. He shivered uncontrollably, but seemed okay. I moved on to Brand. I freed his face in short order, and he sucked in air through chattering teeth.
“Everyone on this deck will survive,” a female voice said behind me. “You must save my daughter.”
I turned around. The nude woman who served as the figurehead for the ship had somehow crawled up from beneath the bowsprit to stand before me. Although stand may not have been the right word, since she didn’t have feet. She was a ghostly form, floating, looking almost solid enough to touch from her breasts up, but with the rest of her composed of mist so fine it would likely have been invisible if the bright glow of the Gloryhammer hadn’t made it shimmer.
“That horrible woman below told you not to talk,” the figurehead said. “But you’re not the only ghost upon this ship. I’m Jasmine Romer, Gale’s mother, and the first captain of the Freewind. My spirit is now locked within these timbers. Unlike you, I’ve chosen my fate.”
I was frustrated that I couldn’t ask for further details. Not that there was time for palaver.
“My daughter drowns within the Sea of Wine. You’re her only hope. The inebriating spirits
cannot harm your wooden form. Save her!”
I loped to the railing where Gale had gone over. The rope was now completely limp. I looked down. It’s uncanny how, in large quantities, wine can look just like blood.
“Where’s your boss?” Infidel asked me as she helped Sage back to her feet. Sage was only fifteen, and had looked small when I saw her next to Rigger, but she was a good three inches taller than Infidel.
I wish I could have at least shrugged to answer Infidel’s question. Sorrow hadn’t cared enough about the outcome of the fight to help defend the ship in person.
I bent over the railing, listening. I could hear laughter, a drunken, high pitched guffawing. I scanned the waves and spotted Captain Romer far out in front of the ship, not where I’d expected her to be at all.
“I’m bringing the ship back around!” Jasmine called out to me. “Prepare to jump!”
Gale’s drunken laughter grew louder as we lurched across the waves. I pulled up the slack rope that trailed in the water and wrapped the end around my wrist. As I did so, the captain’s laughter suddenly died off. I looked down and saw only a single hand, stained amber, as it sank beneath the waves.
I leapt, leaving my tri-corn hat hanging in the air. I wondered if my wooden body floated. It was called ‘driftwood’ for a reason. Luckily, I didn’t need to test my seaworthiness for long. I practically landed on top of Captain Romer, her body limp as I wrapped my free arm around her. The line around my wrist snapped taut, and I wondered just how much force it would take to tear my arm free of my torso. Fortunately, Sorrow’s handiwork proved suited to the task. My arm held, even when my body slammed into the hull of the ship.
I was beneath the surface. Captain Romer’s head bent backward as I gazed down upon her, her jaws slack, small bubbles rising from her lips. I’d heard that Wanderers had a pact with Abyss, the primal dragon of the sea, that guaranteed they would never die from drowning, but his pact apparently didn’t extend to – how had Sorrow worded it? – the abstract realms.