by A. J. Smith
‘They have,’ replied Ruth, demurely perching on a chair. ‘They have shown adequate respect.’
‘Agreed,’ said Randall. ‘So, Oron Kaa?’
‘Yes, Oron Kaa.’ It was the first time the Kirin had used the name.
Randall sat down next to Ruth, with the sparkling blue ocean over the Kirin’s shoulder. Raz Mon Vekerian leant back in his chair. There was intelligence in his eyes and a twitchy curiosity levelled at his two guests.
‘There are stories,’ said the captain. ‘Stories you only hear at sea. When ships pass we share what we’ve seen. Sometimes a story scares you and you try to forget it – until you pass another ship and you tell them, and they’re scared too.’
Randall suddenly imagined they were sitting round a midnight campfire, telling ghost stories over a bottle of wine. Vekerian was a hard man, but his eyes became moist and unfocused as he spoke of Oron Kaa.
‘People go missing,’ said the Kirin. ‘Sailors who get too close, travellers from the Long Mark. Sometimes you see them again, but they’re not the same. They serve... something else, something old. That’s all you’ll find there, blank-faced men and women serving an old power.’
The ship surged and the cabin appeared to tip towards the crystal-blue ocean. Somewhere above, the wind had picked up and the Black Wave was now gliding quickly south.
‘Your mind whirls,’ said Ruth ‘Tell me why?’
Vekerian grunted and rose from his seat. He was unaffected by the movement of his ship and strode on sure feet to a drinks cabinet.
‘Karesian desert nectar. Even a Gorlan mother should appreciate liquor of this quality.’ He resumed his seat, holding a gilded bottle of thick liquid. ‘Unfortunately, no glasses.’ He uncorked the bottle and took a small swig. He then offered the liquor to Randall.
‘I think her question is a fair one,’ said the squire, taking the bottle.
He drank a little, finding it overly sweet and wanting to spit it out when the thick liquid began to coat his tongue. Ruth ignored the offered drink and kept her gaze on the Kirin.
‘My brother,’ said the captain. ‘My only living brother. He was taken.’ The Kirin was unemotional. ‘He took his ship too close to Oron Kaa and didn’t come back.’
‘What happened to him?’ asked Randall.
The Kirin pursed his lips and grunted. ‘We found his ship, splintered, south of Skeleton Bay. Two crew still alive... all they’d say was that they could hear buzzing. They said it for two days until one stuck a knife in his own ear and the other jumped ship and swam at a shark. We looked for Kel Mon – we looked until the only place along the coast we hadn’t looked was Oron Kaa.’
‘You went there, didn’t you?’ said Ruth, leaning in across the table, her hand demurely cupping her chin.
Vekerian nodded. ‘Had to kill half a dozen of my men to make the rest sail there. We lost a dozen more when we went ashore.’
‘That was foolhardy,’ replied the Gorlan mother.
The pirate captain glared at her across the bottle of desert nectar. ‘I know. But my mother would have never forgiven me.’
‘You must have known he was dead,’ she said, showing no tact or compassion.
If Vekerian was offended, he didn’t show it. He didn’t show anything. ‘If he was dead I wanted his body. He should be returned to the Kirin Ridge. I still want his body – or his bones.’
‘Why the Kirin Ridge?’ asked Randall.
‘It’s what you gave us – the Ro. No land, no crops, just the fucking ocean. It means something to us and we sink our dead in its deepest trench.’
Randall bowed his head. ‘Sorry. I’m from the Darkwald, I didn’t grow up learning much history. I’d only met one Kirin before we came to Karesia and I hated him.’
Ruth patted him on the leg, a patronizing gesture that made him stop talking.
‘You see something when you look at me,’ she said to Vekerian. ‘Tell me what it is.’
The Kirin didn’t change expression. ‘I see an opportunity,’ he replied. ‘Strength such as you possess is rare in this world. If you won’t stay in the Creeping Downs, I ask that you help me find my brother. I will take you to Oron Kaa and follow you ashore.’
She leant in. ‘What did you face when you went there? What killed your crew?’
‘As I said, blank-faced men and women. But hundreds of them. They made a buzzing sound that I could still hear days later. We’re not soldiers – when we’re afraid, we run away. And we were very afraid. I keep thinking there was something more, but it might just have been a nightmare.’
‘I do not believe these blank-faced individuals will impede me. I suspect I know what they are and who they serve.’
A bell rang from up on deck and the captain frowned.
‘What does that mean?’ asked Randall.
‘It means ship ahoy,’ replied Vekerian. ‘If you’ll excuse me, great mother.’
‘We will accompany you,’ said Ruth.
The Kirin just nodded and left his state room. They followed, hearing the insistent ringing rise in volume as they moved up the stairs and on to the rear deck. The one-armed man stopped ringing the bell when he saw his captain, and gestured ahead of the ship.
‘Trouble,’ said the helmsman.
Vekerian hopped down from the forecastle and moved forward, along the high railings of his ship to where other sailors were clustered, pointing at something further south. Randall stayed on the forecastle and rose on to his tiptoes to see what they were looking at. It was another ship. No, two ships. One was a tub, headed towards them and loaded down with people. The other, flying the banner of the Twisted Tree, was more sleek and warlike and was launching flaming rocks at the fleeing ship.
‘They’re just trying to leave,’ said Randall. ‘They’re not even allowed the luxury of starting a life elsewhere.’
The ship was aflame and people dived into the sea. Men, women and children of Karesia, trying to flee from the new order, were either burned to death or picked off from afar with short bows. The warship had a serrated battering ram, two masts and was filled with Hounds. The fleeing tub began to list as its sails caught fire and its crew dived overboard. The Hounds did not allow a single person to flee; nor did they let up their bombardment until the ship was engulfed in flame.
The Black Wave had slowed and the dancing fire was all that obscured it from the Karesian warship. Slowly, the Hound vessel turned from the burning wreck and pointed north.
‘Hard to starboard!’ shouted Vekerian, running back to the forecastle. ‘Lay on some canvas, pull out to sea. We can outrun them.’
Two young women, already high in the rigging, tugged on coiled ropes and released the billowing topsails. The one-armed man flung the wheel to the right and relayed orders to those around him. Jez Ran stayed at the front of the ship, shouting for sailors to climb the rigging and release as much sail as possible. The wind was low, but the ship did lurch away from the coast with sudden speed.
‘Great mother, if you would care to hold on to the railing,’ said Vekerian, taking over at the wheel.
The wind caught the sails and the Black Wave tilted sharply to the right, sending barrels and katanas skittering from one side to the other. Randall nearly lost his footing, but clamped his hands firmly to the wooden railing just in time. The sound of dying men and women faded quickly, and he dug his nails into the wood. The warship pursued them, framed by fire, it sails unfurled.
‘Why would they just kill them?’ he asked Ruth. ‘They could have captured them, let them go home.’
‘You have a gentle heart,’ she replied. ‘The Twisted Tree does not. It will kill and keep killing, until its perverse appetite is sated.’
‘But...’
He had nothing really to say. He’d seen so much and had so much more to see, but he’d never got used to seeing death. He’d killed men and seen Utha kill dozens, but none of it had been indiscriminate. The Seven Sisters and their Twisted Tree killed for no reason. They annihilated families an
d destroyed towns, and he’d seen too much of it first-hand.
‘Can we outrun them?’ Ruth asked Vekerian.
The captain looked over his shoulder, then up at the sails. ‘Maybe. They’re heavier and built for war, not speed. I hate to say it, but hopefully there are more loaded ships leaving Kabriz. Hound warships go for easy targets. We may prove to be too much effort.’
The Kirin moved quickly, responding to orders and steadily increasing the speed of their ship. Vekerian spoke quietly to Jez Ran and to the helmsman, who roared his commands to the crew. As Randall looked back, he saw distance gradually appearing between the Black Wave and the Hound warship.
‘Ship off the port bow,’ screeched the lookout.
Everyone looked to the left, but the new ship was just a dot on the horizon. Vekerian gave the wheel to the one-armed helmsman and produced a looking glass.
‘Fuck!’ exclaimed the captain. ‘Hounds hunt in packs, even at sea.’ He looked up at the sails and judged the wind. ‘We’re in trouble.’
Randall didn’t understand the ships’ movements, but he could see enough distressed faces to know that their ship was being herded. The wind was taking the Black Wave along the coast, making her tack as she tried to lurch out to sea, whereas the second warship was sailing with the wind, moving faster than the Kirin galley. They would be cut off from the south.
‘What does this mean?’ Ruth asked the captain, though she did not appear concerned.
Vekerian exchanged words with Raz Mon, and the sails were trimmed, making the ship slow but increasing her manoeuvrability. ‘Uncertain, great mother,’ he replied. ‘They have the wind, they have the numbers.’
‘What do we have?’ asked Randall.
‘A Gorlan mother,’ offered Ruth.
‘Yes,’ agreed Vekerian. ‘It would seem you are our only advantage.’
For a change, Randall did not have confidence in his companion. Killing Kirin sailors on land was a world away from defeating a laden warship at sea. He didn’t even know if she could swim.
‘Did you expect this?’ he asked Vekerian.
The Kirin looked at him, showing that he had, but he said nothing. He shouted forward, getting more men to climb the rigging and others to secure the deck and prepare for combat. Barrels of katanas and longbow arrows were placed against each railing and the sailors readied themselves.
The warship ahead of them had two masts and black sails, billowing with wind. The ship’s lines were low and jagged, with metal spikes fore and aft, creating the image of a predatory fish. The ship was filled with Hounds, though these had no helmets and wielded short bows. It was the first time Randall had seen their faces and, somehow, this made them less intimidating. The catapult crews didn’t even wear the ubiquitous black plate armour; the only sign they were Hounds at all were the tattoos covering their heads. It appeared that the rules of the armies of Karesia were less strict at sea, the better to manoeuvre their vessels and use their weapons.
He looked at Ruth, trying to detect some glimmer of confidence to help him feel less afraid. What he saw was her usual expression of untroubled grace. The warship ahead would cut them off shortly, and the one behind would catch them just after, but she didn’t appear to be afraid.
‘Are you going to do something?’ he asked.
‘Not yet,’ she replied. ‘I cannot swim. I need to wait until they’re closer.’
He smiled at her manner, though it was gallows humour. Her confidence was even more unshakeable than Utha’s. He began thinking about the ways a huge spider could win a sea battle. The image of her climbing the rigging on dense layers of web filled his thoughts, but he doubted she had anything so simple in mind. The catapults and bows would find her an easy target and even Ruth was vulnerable to repeated wounding.
‘Captain Vekerian,’ she said. ‘Get alongside that ship.’
‘What?’ he exclaimed.
‘If you stay on your present course, they will begin to launch flaming boulders at you.’
Randall looked across the water and saw tightly wound wooden limbs being winched into place. The captain saw the same thing and reluctantly nodded agreement at Ruth.
‘Heave to,’ he shouted. ‘Jez Ran, get us alongside that ship.’
‘Captain?’ queried the sailor.
‘Just fucking do it, we have no chance in open water.’
‘Aye, captain.’
Half the sailors drew katanas or longbows and half looked at Ruth expectantly, presumably hoping that she would save them from an overwhelming force. Randall couldn’t see how many Hounds were loaded aboard the warships, but he could see how few Kirin were aboard the Black Wave. The galley listed to port and bore down on the southern warship. The one in pursuit had trimmed its sails and moved to cut off any avenue of escape. Everything was happening so fast, with the gap of crystal-clear water between the ships rapidly disappearing.
‘Should I be afraid?’ he asked Ruth.
‘If you think it would help,’ she replied.
He rolled his eyes. ‘Just once it would be nice to get some reassurance.’
Before he could complain any further, she left the forecastle and glided towards the port-side railing, facing the approaching ship. The sailors stayed out of her way, looking to their captain for the same kind of reassurance that Randall wanted from Ruth. They received no more from Vekerian than he had from the Gorlan mother.
‘What does she plan to do?’ the captain asked him.
‘I wish I had an answer for you,’ he replied. ‘I’d advise your men to take some cover. They’re about to start shooting at us.’
Almost before he’d finished speaking, the Hounds launched a narrow sheet of arrows. The Black Wave was now too close for the catapults, but dozens of arrows blanketed the galley.
‘Cover!’ roared Vekerian, ducking down behind the wheel as an arrow thudded into the deck nearby.
Randall joined him and heard the sudden wails of men struck by wooden shafts. He could no longer see Ruth, but he knew a couple of arrows wouldn’t bother her.
Two sailors fell from the rigging and two more were barrelled overboard with arrows in their chests, but most of the Kirin had found cover behind railings or barrels. A few men emerged with longbows and returned fire, but most stayed out of sight.
‘Captain, we’re going to hit the cunts,’ shouted Jez Ran.
Randall chanced a look past the wheel and saw Ruth casually removing an arrow from her shoulder. The warship was now right on them and the two vessels headed together.
‘Brace!’ shouted Vekerian, swinging the wheel hard to starboard as the ships struck.
Water flew across both decks and everyone lost their footing, before the ships settled side by side. The Black Wave was taller, but the sailors could now look down upon multitudes of Hounds, throwing grappling hooks and securing ladders, ready to board the Kirin vessel.
Randall drew the sword of Great Claw and edged along the railing towards Ruth, who stood in the open, surveying the Hounds beneath her. The black-armoured Karesians were unaware of why this strange woman didn’t appear afraid, but it didn’t slow them. Commands were relayed and the Hounds lined up to flood aboard the Black Wave, while the Kirin stayed behind cover, waiting with longbows drawn. The sailors were outnumbered at least five to one and the panicked looks they threw at their captain showed little confidence in Ruth’s ability to save them.
He kept his head down and reached his companion. ‘Are we close enough yet?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I believe so,’ she replied. ‘Ready yourself to kill any that get past me.’
He made a grunting sound, questioning his ability to do what she wanted, but she ignored him and took a large step upwards, on to the narrow railing that separated the two ships. Randall turned to look across at Vekerian, who had drawn his own bow and sat ready, with twenty or so bowmen in a line ready to repulse boarders. The rest held katanas and waited for either their captain’s orders or a display of strength from Ruth. What they got was a
booming announcement from the Gorlan mother.
‘You do not own the sea,’ she stated. ‘Your Twisted Tree does not grow here and you will enslave none of these people.’ She spread her arms wide as three arrows thudded into her chest. Instead of falling backwards or crying in pain, she appeared to break apart, her body actually growing in mass, seeming to become a huge carpet of fist-sized spiders. The creatures flooded over the side of the Black Wave and engulfed the first rank of Hounds. There were hundreds of them, each acting independently as they crawled inside armour and dug their fangs into any exposed flesh. Randall had seen her change form many times, but never like this. The Hounds screamed and stamped on any spider they could isolate, but there were too many of them, acting together to swarm the Karesians.
‘Help her!’ shouted Randall, standing and waving his sword at Vekerian.
The Kirin were almost as afraid as the Karesians, but survival instinct took over and they moved to the port railing, hesitantly aware that the Hounds were too busy to return fire. They knocked arrows and picked off any men that Ruth had not swarmed. A few Hounds scrambled up ladders towards the Black Wave, but were cut down by katanas. Randall killed two, chopping downwards into their exposed heads, but the Kirin did most of the work, showing controlled skill with their razor-sharp blades.
‘Hold fire!’ shouted Vekerian as the Hounds melted away. Some jumped overboard, but most now twitched on the deck of their warship with pulpy spider bites covering their faces or longbow arrows embedded in their chests.
Jez Ran moved along the railing, cutting their ship free of a dozen grappling hooks. Other men tipped the ladders backwards and sailors were quickly ordered back to the rigging. Behind them, slowed to a crawl, the second warship approached warily, unsure of what had transpired.
‘Let’s get the fuck out of here,’ roared Jez Ran, ‘before they recover their senses!’
A slender hand appeared in front of Randall. ‘A little assistance,’ murmured Ruth, her voice a dull croak.
The spiders were gone, though many were dead, scattered across the deck of the warship. The Gorlan mother looked ill, with drawn skin and sallow eyes. Her hand as Randall grasped it was wrinkled and skeletal and he feared he would hurt her. Vekerian ran to help and the panting woman was tenderly lifted back to the Black Wave.