Prophecy mtg-3

by Vance Moore

  More warriors rushed to the sides, and Druik began a war cry as each new fighter joined the attack. The hollering was in a dialect unfamiliar to Haddad, but the rhythm reminded him of a marching song, the melody uniting different parts into a single, focused whole. Keldon warriors roared in a brutal harmony, and some used bare hands to clear the sides of the ship. But being inspired by Druik did not make them invulnerable, and a single touch of jelly to bare flesh was something no amount of singing would overcome. Druik used his artificial arm to clear the sides and called out to the other warriors.

  "Don't touch it, just peel it off the ship!" he yelled. "Use a spear, or lash it off with a rope." One warrior quickly picked up a coil and flailed it against the hull. The rope broke tentacles and tubes free of the hull with every strike. Other warriors drew swords and scraped the sides, others smashed barrels to use the staves. Despite the enthusiasm, the jelly sent up more and more extension, trying to pull itself aboard. The ropes were coated with jelly, and they dissolved. Warriors dropped weapons and rope overboard as the juices ate away at whatever they covered. Now crewmen stripped their clothes and armor to use against the monster. Druik's arm was covered, and Haddad could see jelly flesh eating away at the Keldon. Chunks of the beast were flung up on Druik's skin at the fury of his attack.

  "I hope the cook hurries with the lye," the sailor said as he peeled away a long, gooey tentacle that spurted almost to the rail. Haddad and Fumash ran back and forth along their section of hull.

  "What does it do?" Haddad asked as he darted several feet to slice a limb off the hull.

  "Poisons it." An explosion made Haddad look over his shoulder before going back to his own battle. Latulla's spell had cleared the ship's side like a barber's razor, the line of fire hugging the hull and searing the monstrous flesh. Now several warriors ran to help other men clear their sections of the ship's side, while a few stayed to repulse any new assault.

  Haddad turned as a warrior shoved him aside. The warrior used his shield as a giant spoon to scoop runners of jelly free and back into the sea. Latulla stood with her staff raised, and a growing nimbus of fire enveloped the wood and her arms. Then she struck, and the fire dived into the sea, burrowing into the monster beneath the ship. But the jelly had no complex organ center to destroy. Her explosion, while impressive, didn't win the battle, but its aftereffects did change how the battle was fought. The screams started seconds after the blast. Haddad turned to see men writhing all over the deck in agony. Latulla's explosion had hurled the jelly's flesh and digestive juices over the crew. The assault on Haddad's section of the hull abated as suction from the explosion pulled the tentacles back into the water. Haddad turned all the way around and started to run to the other side. Tentacles were over the rail, and Haddad could see the contractions as they pumped a living pool of acid over the deck.

  Crew ran toward the cook who came on deck with a mixture of soap and water. The sight of men splashing almost boiling lye into their faces and on their wounds made Haddad determined that he would not touch the flesh of the gastro-jelly. It was Lord Druik who turned the battle.

  There were bodies now on deck-slumping piles of flesh that poured red into the tentacles and pools. The bodies emptied out like wineskins, and a rich wave of color raced back over the side into the sea. Tentacles draped down into the hold, contracting and raining more juices and jelly below with each second. Druik knocked men away from the cook and splashed his leg with the remains of the bucket.

  "Bring the rest up, damn you!" he screamed. Then the Keldon walked through the pooling jelly with a sword scraping along the railing. His body received several jets of fluid, but he only laughed and called for the men to fight. "Fight or cut your throats, cowards!" More buckets of diluted lye came and were sluiced over the deck. The tentacles withdrew or shriveled under the attack, but Haddad doubted it would be enough. Then he remembered the supplies that Latulla had packed below, and he called to her. She was crouched on the deck, and he could see the wood slowly charring as it heated around her. The jelly gave her a wide birth, but her defense would rapidly become a threat to the ship if she didn't stop.

  "Latulla, did you pack anything poisonous or reactive?" She glanced up at his shout and narrowed her eyes at his failure to use her title.

  "Yes, in the second crate," she called back. "The sacks are marked 'catalysts.' " Haddad threw himself into the hold before common sense could stop him. The area was dark with only a few shafts of light coming in. Most of the deck hatches were closed, and Haddad prayed he wouldn't be knee deep in jelly before he could find what he was looking for. The second crate was one that he had moved, and he hoped Latulla had given him the original loading number rather than one under her new scheme. He could see tentacles beginning to edge out of the bilge, and he skinned his hand badly as he hammered the seals loose with the butt of his knife. He threw out the containers, hoping he wouldn't poison himself as pottery and glass shattered. The interior of the crate was full of smaller crates that nestled Latulla's work in shock resistant packing.

  Finally he recognized the symbol for catalyst and broke the container open. Two large satchels lay inside, and he looked for a glove or scoop to spread it around. When tentacles forced him to hop onto another crate, he decided to chance death by poison.

  He cut the fasteners loose and took out a handful. It had the consistency of fine sand, and he threw it wide in a circle. Whatever it was, the jelly had no love for it. Where the sand touched, jelly flesh liquefied and then crusted over. Haddad began shouting as he rushed toward the open hatch where he had jumped down.

  "Fumash, I've found the answer." He hurled the fine sand to either side. Fumash looked down then skidded around to the other side of the hatch in response to the jelly flowing over the deck.

  "Then you better tell me now because I'm not going to be around much longer," Fumash shouted down. He had lost his pike and was holding a mop that scraped along the lip of the hatch. Haddad swore as the jelly fell toward him, and he nailed it with a pinch of the catalyst.

  "Spread this all around," he called and threw the sealed bag to the customs man. Fumash caught it and then drew out of sight.

  "Who's got a god-cursed knife?" he shouted on the deck, and Haddad heard shouts of relief as crewmen converged on Fumash. Remembering the mop laden with jelly, Haddad decided to head back up the hold for a stairway rather than trust a ladder. He had no desire for a jelly shower, and he dusted his way back up the hold even as shouts of triumph and victory began to sound on deck.

  When he reached the stair he had almost completely emptied the bag. He could only hope that it wouldn't be needed on deck. The shouting had died down, and he was careful to have a fistful of catalyst when he stepped into the afternoon light. The deck seemed safe, with many sailors tending the wounds of others. The captain was examining the deck and exterior of the hull carefully as he talked to Latulla.

  "I thought we were finished until that slave started using your powder. It's amazing stuff. We should carry it whenever we sail." His relief was obvious, and he still had the occasional tremor as his body shook off his adrenaline.

  "That catalyst was very valuable and difficult to obtain," Latulla stated, prodding the crusty remains of the jelly as she followed the officer. "It would be more effective to whip the lookouts so they carry out their duties."

  She looked at Haddad and the catalyst slowly dribbling from his hand. He immediately threw it into the sack and sealed it. He knew there would be no thanks or praise for his actions. He had gained her notice, however, and wished that he could reclaim her indifference. He left to find Fumash, wondering how his friend had fared. He couldn't find him as he went over the deck. His circuit took time as parts of the ship were covered with crusted jelly, and, dead or not, he was reluctant to walk on the remains. Approaching a crewman who was washing and bandaging another man's wound, he asked where Fumash was, fearing him lost.

  "The little fellow is fine, but his master, Lord Druik, took terrible wounds." Th
e man's patient hissed in pain as a bandage was tied over his salved wounds. "They took him to his cabin, and you should find your friend there." Haddad thanked him and crossed to the other side of the ship, trying to stay out of Latulla's eye. The cook was just leaving Druik's cabin, a bundle of bloody clothes in his hand.

  In the dim light, Fumash was bent over the war leader, his hands gently smearing a thin paste over the Keldon's ribs. Long gaps showed muscle and even a glimpse of bone before Fumash's small hands covered it with paste. He looked up at Haddad briefly.

  "Give me another pad of gauze." His elbow knocked an empty bottle of brandy as he gestured to a pile of medical supplies on a chair opposite the bed. "This stuff is supposed to be good for burns. Maybe it will help." His shoulders tensed, and each move was deliberated.

  "Of course," Haddad said, handing another roll to Fumash, who started laying pads of the coarse weave over Druik's torso. The seeping wounds and salve glued the fabric down like patches on a coat. Haddad's eyes finished adjusting, and he considered Druik. Half-crippled he may have been before, but Haddad wondered how the Keldon could still be alive.

  His stumps from past amputations were wrapped and already treated, but the artificial limbs thrown to the side had seen hard service. The metal studs and buckles on the prosthetics were only lightly discolored, but the leather was eaten through in several places. Half of the straps lay open, and Haddad at first thought Druik's caregivers cut the limbs free. A closer look revealed that the jelly had dissolved right through the straps. If more had given way, Druik would have fallen face first into the digestive mass of the beast.

  "He was lucky," whispered Haddad.

  Fumash slapped him, hitting hard enough that Haddad tasted blood as he looked at his friend.

  "Lucky?" He pulled aside the sheet that half-covered Druik's good side. The arm was already wrapped, but even through the bandages Haddad could see how misshapen it was. Dimples and pits showed on the surface of the cloth and hinted at the gaps beneath. Druik's leg was still mercifully covered, but the heavy spotting on the clean sheet and the strange lay and contortion of the limb hinted that Druik had lost it as surely as he had lost his other leg in a battle long past.

  "Someone has got to take it off." Fumash nodded to the limb. "Chances are almost sure that I will get stuck with the job." Haddad swallowed his gorge at the thought. By viewing it as just an image, he could control his stomach, but the thought of doing more damage made him sick. At the sight of his distress, Fumash managed a small grim smile.

  "Lift his torso up. I need to wrap his ribs." Fumash was holding a long linen wrap that he had picked up as Druik's injuries hypnotized Haddad.

  "Shouldn't a surgeon be doing this?" Haddad asked, though he slowly moved into position to lift at the shoulders.

  "As a slave, I am in his household and responsible for caring for him," Fumash replied as he twirled the wrap into a roll that could easily pass under Druik. "And if there was a way to get someone else to help with these little jobs, I wouldn't be talking to you. Now lift," he ordered.

  Haddad slowly raised the Keldon's upper body. Druik made no intelligible sound, but Haddad could feel each breath and the warmth of the gray living flesh.

  "Why isn't he screaming with pain?" Haddad asked as the breathing continued without interruption.

  "He's had enough drugs and alcohol that I think he's going to die," Fumash replied as he continued to wrap the form of his master. "If he lives, it will be in spite of my ignorance, not because of my doctoring. Besides," he continued, "I certainly wouldn't want to live in this condition."

  Haddad looked to the door, hoping no one was within hearing distance.

  "Don't say that," he whispered to Fumash. His friend misunderstood him as he continued his task.

  "He's been a good master in comparison to some, but I am not here by choice," Fumash said as he began to secure the sheath of cloth with a series of strategic tucks and a long pin. "I might even like him, but he is the enemy, and I would leave him dying if offered the chance."

  "What do you mean?" Haddad said, forgetting circumspection. "We're leaving tomorrow night. The crew has fought a battle, and we need to leave before they recover."

  "The captain will be especially vigilant after this, and there is no way I am going to sneak out of this cabin. I am on a deathwatch and will be expected to stay here until he dies or recovers. Even if he dies, death rites will demand my presence." Fumash was bitter, but his hands motioned Haddad to gently lower Druik to the rough mattress. "If he survives at least two more days, I might be able to leave. You will have to escape for both of us." Fumash tried to give Haddad a smile but couldn't manage it.

  "I can barely stand in a small boat," Haddad said, "much less sail on the open sea. If you don't go then I can't go." He realized that bolder action would be required. "We go in two nights or die trying. If you are with someone, slave or Keldon, kill him and meet me at the ship's boat. I am not expected to serve Latulla and am not closely watched, I, too, will kill if I must."

  Fumash was doubtful about their chances, and it showed. He had been a slave for a longer time and was used to pushing hope farther and farther into the future.

  "We have to leave, Fumash." Haddad gripped his own shirt and it tore as he tried to rein in the anger threatening to explode at this sign of doubt. "Every day that we stay we shrink and lose a little bit more of ourselves. If you don't run you'll be as crippled and helpless as Druik is now." He laid his hand on his friend's arm and finally received a nod of agreement. The decision and near-resignation was plain in Fumash's eyes as he turned to the medical kit and began withdrawing implements for amputating the destroyed leg.

  A Keldon guard came in as Haddad tried to nerve himself up for the possible operation. The warrior advanced into the room with his head lowered as a sign of respect for the fallen lord.

  "You are commanded to appear before your mistress, slave," he said to Haddad. Despite the harshness of the words, the Keldon sounded almost polite. The warrior turned to Fumash. "I will assist you in what needs to be done."

  Fumash gave Haddad a quick nod and showed two fingers where the guard could not see them.

  "Two days," the small man mouthed.

  Haddad nodded quickly. Two days until escape from the ship. As Haddad left to serve his mistress's pleasure, Fumash turned back to the instruments.

  "You've been down in the hold since the attack," were Latulla's opening words. "Was there any damage to the cargo besides the crate you broke open?" The lack of gratitude firmed up Haddad's plan to escape even over her dead body.

  "I don't know," Haddad said as the injustice of her implied criticism sank in. "I was busy trying to kill the beast and help save the ship." Latulla's flat stare reminded him that he lived at her sufferance.

  The captain and Latulla stood at the entrance to the hold after finishing the survey of the deck. Haddad could see two sailors down among the cargo searching for more remains of the gastro-jelly, the nearly empty bags of catalyst ready in their hands.

  "Considering how much damage it did to the crew and ropes up here, who knows how much cargo was devoured when it pooled in the hold?" The captain had survived the attack but worry about his cargo threatened to overwhelm his relief.

  "Fetch the inventory that you prepared, check my crates, and then the rest of the cargo," Latulla ordered Haddad. "Report to me as soon as you and the captain are finished. I will be in my quarters or with Lord Druik." She turned and walked away.

  Haddad waited until the warriors in the hold finished their search for any living jelly. He didn't care how quickly Latulla wanted him to get to work. After the all clear, he went carefully down into darkness with other crew who the captain detailed to the task. Haddad set lanterns alight in the dark comers, and no one gainsaid him even though light poured in through the open deck hatches.

  Except for the one Haddad broke into, Latulla's crates survived the battle without a scratch. In the farther hold it was a different story. The mons
ter had poured through the upper hatches and landed on the supplies of biscuits and other provisions. The mound had spread over other crates, and a few had given way, their contents strewn among the remains of the beast.

  "We need to clear this hold and check everything," said a Keldon mate. The first few attempts to shovel the monster's remains into a barrel for disposal were very tentative. The odor and settling of the remains when the first shovel broke the crust sent men stumbling back. But under the repeated orders from the Keldon mate, the crew began to collect the mess and put it into barrels. A winch was quickly rigged on deck, and the barrels began rising out of the hold to dump their contents into the sea.

  "What shall we do with the stores that are contaminated?" asked a crewman who uncovered a container of cheese. The mate looked at the rounds covered in muck. He cut a wedge and saw how trails of digestive juices had eaten their way through like worms.

  "When in doubt, toss it out." Supplies went into the barrel and then whole containers of food were hauled up. Perhaps the captain disagreed with the mate when he saw containers of meat going up, but his own investigation of its purity overwhelmed even his iron stomach. It took hours to check every barrel and cask. Eventually the provisions not violated during the attack were separated out. More than half of the food, water, and spirits were emptied over the side, and the sober faces of sailors told Haddad that things were serious indeed.

  The corners of the hold were filled with crates that seemed to have escaped the touch of the devourer. But even after the long day that the crew had put in, there was no break. The captain rotated men from the deck to the hold. Haddad continued working except for a few trips to the deck for relief. He devoured an issue of rations that he ordered from the cook, letting him think that he was carrying it for a Keldon down in the hold. Latulla had tasked him to remain until the survey of damage was done, and his bravado wasn't yet strong enough for him to disobey.