Trials of Trass Kathra

by Mike Wild

  She landed awkwardly on her behind, winded, near the edge of the sails, and cried in pain as a second dart of the metallic snake caught her on the forehead, tearing away her bandana, lashing the wound there and allowing the blood it was producing to flow freely once more.

  Kali shook her dizzied head in an attempt to clear it, and stared down over the sails’ lip, towards the waters of the harbour. As she did, those Swords climbing after her pulled themselves over the lip. They didn’t approach her, but spread themselves around the periphery of the sails with crossbows aimed.

  Deferring to their master. Kali rolled as Freel’s whip sliced the air, this time at a level which would have cleanly decapitated her had she remained where she was. He’d clearly given up on the idea of simply incapacitating her and lashing her to the figurehead, and that suited her just fine because, in truth, she wanted him to bring it on.

  Kali allowed the roll to bring her back to her feet, wiped blood from her face, and then charged at Freel before he had chance to retract the chains for another lash.

  She somersaulted again as she neared him, timing the roll so that she came out of it feet first, and with those feet slamming directly into his chest.

  Freel staggered back with an involuntary exhalation as Kali impacted with him, and she took advantage of his imbalance to come upright and strike him with almost simultaneous left and right jabs to the jaw. Freel reeled before her and Kali immediately raised herself onto one leg, spinning as she did to bring the other about in a roundhouse kick that sent Freel’s already battered face snapping to the side, throwing an arc of spittle to the wind. As he staggered, attempting to recover from the assault, Kali circled him, her breathing slow and heavy, almost challenging. Freel wiped blood from his face, smiled coldly and reined in the chain whips, reducing their length so that they might function better at close range.

  This was exactly what Kali wanted, and as Freel began to lash her anew, she backed away, dodging each of his strikes as they came. The manoeuvres kept her convincingly endangered but, in reality, safe from any injury that might lessen her chances of success. There were quite a few close calls – too many, in fact – but eventually she managed to lead Freel all the way to the rear of the sails, which was exactly where she wanted him to be.

  It went against everything she believed to bring the fight to a close. Her deepest desire was to finish the bastard now. But that wasn’t the solution to the problem Freel had presented her.

  Kali began to run, surprising Freel, angering herself, but knowing she was doing the right thing, the only thing she could.

  She headed with grim determination down the carapace, jumping the small ridges that delineated the folded sails, following the curve in the direction of the ship’s prow. Behind her, having expected a confrontation, Freel was caught off guard, and by the time he had released the coils of his whip to take in the extra distance between them, Kali was already out of the deadly chains’ reach.

  Freel smiled grimly, however, because this didn’t matter. It was clear to him that the girl was making for the water, but it was equally clear that she was not going to make it.

  The gauntlet presented by those Swords who had followed her from the deck was inescapable, their crossbows covering her from port and starboard. Freel watched as Kali began to run, but there were limits to what even Kali Hooper could do.

  Before she had even made it half way to her destination a dozen quarrels had been unleashed, and while Kali did her best to dodge them, twisting and spinning gymnastically so that their deadly barbs whizzed by a hairsbreadth from her skin, at least a third of them found their target; two piercing her right thigh, one her shoulder, and another her side.

  Kali staggered slightly and continued on, though the multiple impacts had slowed her, and the second wave of quarrels found their target more easily and with a greater degree of success. She cried out in pain as two quarrels slammed into her back just beneath her shoulderblades, and then another into the soft flesh at the back of the knee, bringing her down. Kali slammed down onto the carapace and began to crawl forwards, roaring with the effort and with her own frustration.

  “Surrender, Miss Hooper,” Jakub Freel said as the Swords’ wound the tension on their crossbows for another assault. “There is no escape.”

  Kali stiffened momentarily and then managed to get a grip on the ridge of the last of the sails and pulled herself forward. The lip of the carapace was just ahead, below that the ship’s prow and the sea. But then the sound of the crossbow’s quarrels being slipped into place and locked for firing made her freeze once more. Slowly she tried to pick herself up, and though the Swords were ready to fire, Freel raised a hand to them, momentarily staying the release of their deadly projectiles.

  Kali Hooper drew herself up to her full height and turned to face him. Malignant eyes stared from beneath a brow thick with blood. She was slick with it and its loss made her waver slightly where she stood, but she had enough strength to bare her teeth.

  Jakub Freel stared up at Kerberos and the ever looming presence of its new companion, then down to Kali.

  “It’s time for a new dawn, Miss Hooper. A new era where you have no place.”

  “Go to the hells,” Kali growled.

  “No. Not I.”

  He dropped his hand and the Swords fired. Multiple quarrels struck Kali in the legs, arms, torso and head, their impact so powerful she was propelled from the carapace, arcing backwards over the prow and then out into the dark waters below.

  Freel moved to the edge of the carapace just in time to see her crash into the sea.

  Kali’s body floated for a second, and then sank beneath the waves.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE BLACK SHIP sailed at midchime that night. The torches that had been lit all along the harbourside were presumably present only to keep the crowd that had gathered there warmed against the chill sea winds, for they made little difference beneath the azure glow of Kerberos.

  It was tradition that all who worked on the construction of a vessel should watch it depart on its inaugural voyage, though in truth none of them were there by choice that night, roused from their beds by the Swords and forced to attend. Why the Church should insist they assemble for the occasion none could guess, for it knew how they felt about the ship’s presence in their town. To them, it was an abomination, unnatural, and, because of the many deaths that had occurred in the months it had taken to build, clearly cursed. None of the town’s doctors or apothecaries could explain why the cause of death in most of those cases had been severe burning of the flesh, though some speculated it had something to do with the strange devices with whose assembly they had assisted, or even with the mysterious mineral the Faith had imported into the town and loaded aboard by the ton under conditions of utmost secrecy.

  As a result, there was none of the usual cheer and acts of celebration that would normally accompany such a launch, and as the ship’s ropes were cast off the people of Gransk regarded the dark hulk silently and with relieved expressions, glad that they would soon see its back. Maybe then, at last, their town might return to normal.

  Kali trod water some thirty feet under the surface, her limbs moving slowly and lazily. The constant stream of bubbles from her breathing conch as she pulled quarrels from her flesh went unnoticed by those on the harbourside, though their shadows, backlit by torches and distorted by the surging of waves, appeared to be looming over her. Dammit, Kali thought. That had hurt. But the subtle gymnastics necessary to make sure the quarrels hadn’t hit anything vital had achieved her aim. As far as Redigor was concerned, she was dead, and the Black Ship would sail with its hostages safe.

  Down here, the sounds of the Black Ship’s imminent departure were muted – a dull rumbling of engines and sporadic, almost ghostly clangs as its hull plating shifted – and the only sure way to tell the behemoth was about to sail was from the churning froth of its propellers and the slowly pulsing glow from the amberglow generators concealed beneath the ship’s pli
msoll line. These orange blisters, two to port and two to starboard, looking from Kali’s distorted perspective like wavering suns in some alien sky, had presumably been what had made the waters boil when the ship had been launched, and with them acting as a boost to the ship’s sails, she reckoned that Brundle’s quoted sailing time of two months would be more like two weeks.

  Kali wondered what the people of Gransk would make of the Old Race technology at play here. Doubtless they had been involved in its installation – as the ship’s builders how could they not? – but none of them could have truly realised with what it was they were dealing. The Faith had doubtlessly come up with some explanation for the strange sights they had seen, perhaps each would receive a visit from one of Querilous Fitch’s alumni and, following a brief but effective mind probe, simply forget everything that had happened.

  Kali shifted her attention from the surface to the darker depths below her. She was pleased to note that she had positioned herself correctly as, from the shadows beneath her feet, a large and heavy shape hove into view. It trailed bubbles and silt from the harbour floor as it rose, and Kali kicked herself into position next to the thick chain to which it was attached. Brundle had remained secretive about how he was going to gain access to the Black Ship, and so had she, mainly because she hadn’t worked it out at the time, but the simple expedient of hopping a lift had come to mind not long after.

  The Black Ship’s giant anchor, one of four that held its bulk steady, took shape as it neared the surface, and Kali grabbed at it through swirling silt as it passed. She was feeling quite pleased with herself for choosing this method, but the slight smile on her face was replaced by a look of shock as instead of touching the hard metal she expected, her hands brushed against something organic. She back-pedalled, involuntarily spitting out her breathing conch and gagging on water. The shock made her almost miss her only chance to reach the ship before it departed. Disregarding whatever it was she had touched, Kali lunged forward once more and this time felt the unyielding curves of the anchor’s hooks beneath her grip. Flustered – had she imagined what had just happened? – Kali allowed herself to be carried upwards by them for a second while she stared down into the wake of the anchor’s ascent and for a moment, just a moment, caught a glimpse of a silvery figure receding into the depths. She was just able to pick out its smooth features, its toothless mouth and the glowing nodules that hung from either side of its jaw – not to mention the fact that it was staring right up at her with eyes that seemed to penetrate her very soul.

  Kali’s heart thudded. Her unexpected companion looked just like the creature – or at least the same kind of creature – she had encountered beneath the collapsing ruins of Martak more than two years before.

  The End Comes, came the alien voice in her head. The Truth Awaits.

  What? Kali thought. What? But she knew she was not going to get an answer, for her strange visitor was already being absorbed into the darkness below, and a second later it was gone. The words resonated in her mind but she quickly shook them away, knowing she had only seconds before the anchor on which she rode broke the surface. Trying her best to ignore what had just happened, Kali began to scramble up the body of the anchor, getting herself into a readied position.

  SOME TWENTY FEET above, on the starboard stern deck of the Black Ship, Brother Kelleher stared grimly at the press-ganged men who had been ordered straight into service to struggle with the vessel’s anchor chains. He did not attempt to help as, sweating and straining, they heaved it from the water and the anchor began to rise up the sheer wall of the ship’s hull. On the port side of the stern, he knew, a similar operation was underway, and similarly two more at the bow. What Brother Kelleher did not know was that, unlike his compatriots elsewhere, his men were being forced to strain just that little bit more.

  Brother Kelleher nodded to the men as the anchor rose into its housing and was locked off, and a moment later they were dismissed. The initiate remained behind for a second, watching the anchor spill water and turn slowly where it rested in its housing. He contemplated the voyage ahead – how he would be venturing where no one else had been, into strange and unknown waters, and all for the glory of the Final Faith. He reflected that it was an honour to be chosen to do this, and for a second bowed his head and prayed aloud, thanking both the Anointed Lord and the Lord of All for the privilege that had been granted him.

  “I’m pretty much sure that neither gives a toss,” a voice said.

  Brother Kelleher looked up. The anchor had turned fully turned round in its housing and, spread-eagled so that she matched its cruciform shape, a young woman hung upon it. It was difficult to make out her features through the plastered down fringe that obscured her forehead, but then she flicked the hair aside, slowly spat out a spout of water, smiled and winked. A fist swiftly followed these actions, but this Brother Kelleher didn’t really see coming, and he had no chance to reflect on the fact that he had been remiss.

  KALI HOPPED STEALTHILY down off the anchor, landing in a crouch over the prone body of the Faith initiative. She delivered another swift punch to his groaning form, making sure he was out cold, stripped him and then quickly dumped him overboard. Far below, Brother Kelleher crashed into the harbour waters and, his underknicks inflating like a balloon, began to bob away on his own, unexpected voyage.

  Kali turned back to the deck, lit by the ship’s running lights. The fact that she was still sloughing water like a naiad was a pain, but at least her dip had rid her of the stench of the creel, something for which Brundle, if they were eventually reunited, would doubtless be eternally grateful.

  She slipped the brother’s robe over her own bodysuit and stared about, noting that in the distance the men dismissed by the initiate were entering the bulkhead, leaving that part of the deck clear. There was no one to notice, now, that she had replaced the brother, and as far as anyone seeing her from a distance was concerned, she would be taken for him. She walked to the ship’s rail to look back at the departing Gransk.

  Oh gods, no, she thought.

  Because from her perspective she could see what the crowd gathered there could not, namely that the guards positioned behind them were lifting the tall-staffed torches from where they had been positioned and wielding them like lances. She had her answer, now, to how the Faith intended to deal with the problems of the builders’ exposure to their secretive Old Race technology, and, unless she wanted to give away her presence, she couldn’t even shout out a warning.

  The bastards were making it look as if this were an attack from those sea-dwellers who had raided more than a few coastal towns of late. Kali closed her eyes as the first of the people of Gransk were impaled on the flaming skewers and unceremoniously thrust into the dark waters below. She kept her eyes closed as those who turned at the cries of their friends were cut down by rapidly unsheathed swords.

  Damn the Faith, she thought. Damn Makennon, damn Freel, damn them all. If this was the future of their Church, it had no place on her peninsula.

  This ends. If not tonight, then one night soon. This ends.

  The End Comes, she heard again. The Truth Awaits.

  Kali took a deep breath and turned away from the scene of carnage, and it mercifully grew more distant as the ship’s amberglow generators began to pick up its momentum. Soon the sounds of screams from the shore were replaced by the rush of sea winds and the constant thrum of the vessel beneath her. Kali shivered. She had to get inside, not only to rid herself of the cold but because it was there that she might begin to find some answers as to what exactly was going on on this ship. On the latter, she didn’t act immediately, first finding herself a hiding place in the ship’s ballast bulkheads and venturing forth occasionally to work out the pattern of the ship’s watches and patrols so that when she did emerge, she could do so clandestinely.

  It was two days, during which the Black Ship passed through the crackling maelstrom that was the Stormwall and she was forced to insulate herself from the electricity that da
nced through the ballast bulkheads, before she ventured on decks. There, she had two destinations. As it was likely that the ship’s crew knew little – if anything – of Redigor’s plans, one of these destinations was the elf’s cabin, which she had located towards the stern of the ship. Before that, however, she had a higher priority. This involved her travelling the length of the ship to where she had previously located a set of steps leading down to the cargo hold, where she suspected the prisoners were being held.

  Having donned her Faith robe once more, she made her way as far as she could along the open decks, swapping from starboard to port to avoid patrols, and then ducked through a hatch back inside. Here she stowed the robe, the heavy cloth counterproductive to stealth and because it would do little to conceal her identity in the close confines of the interior anyway, and began to negotiate the corridors.

  It was like beating a maze where no other wanderers were allowed to see you, but thankfully Kali had always liked mazes. She dodged left and right, right and left, pausing at corners and then moving on, sometimes only a second behind crewmembers in whose steps she silently walked. It took half an hour during which time she hardly dared breathe, but at last she came to the steps she wanted.

  She headed down into the hold, three decks below, gratified to find that her suspicions had been proven right. The entire area below decks had been converted into a makeshift prison for the many brought forcefully aboard, kept in groups in cages laid out in a chequerboard style. Guards wandered the shadowy criss-cross of spaces among them and Kali was once again forced to ‘dodge the Filth’ as she worked her way towards the people she wanted to see. Others – people she didn’t know, just innocents who had spoken out against the Faith – rose hopefully as she slipped passed their cages, but for now there was nothing she could do to help or comfort them. Kali continued to move between the cages, inspecting their occupants, and coming at last to two adjacent cages which held her friends from the Flagons and Jengo Pim and his men. The fact that these were positioned the farthest back and together suggested that Redigor wanted those closest to her well incarcerated, but it also worked to Kali’s advantage as it was an area the guards only glanced towards occasionally.