by Simon Archer
“Later,” I growled. My arm ached a bit, but it functioned. I’d have to get the ship’s barber to dig the ball out, or maybe my witch could do it.
Maybe they taught healing in the sisterhood. They probably did, when I thought upon it. I’d heard of healer witches, but that didn’t seem like something Mary did much of. She was more like a murder witch.
“I’ll take care of it,” she said as we got moving again. “Once we’re back on the ship.”
“Sister!” a voice called from behind us, “You and your orc will go no further!”
We whipped around to face a woman in the uniform of an Imperial officer, though the pin at her throat signified her status as ship’s witch. Her auburn hair was matted with the blood that stained her clothes and painted half of her stern, yet strangely lovely face. Her eyes were completely black, and four of my men lay in twisted, awkward positions at her feet.
Mary let out a soft hiss. “Damn it all,” she said. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
“Surrender and return with us,” the witch lifted a claw-like hand and beckoned to Mary. “Forsake this.”
I crouched a bit as I tensed. If this was going to be a magic fight, then I needed to be ready to back up my witch, whatever she planned to do.
“Thrice no I say,” Mary raised her knives and pointed them at the other Sister. “My contract was broken when Sebastian Arde tried to claim privilege without consent. I have bound service with Bardak Skullsplitter.”
“Once more, I give you a chance to surrender, Mary Night,” the Imperial witch intoned. “Does your answer stand?”
“Thrice I told ye,” Mary spat. “Take your surrender and stuff it up your dry, old…”
Cannons boomed below, and I saw several balls literally rebound from The Hullbreaker’s timbers. Both ships rocked and drifted apart, but the grappling lines held firm. That was one less worry for me, which let me focus entirely on Mary and her opposite number.
The black-eyed witch snarled and blades of inky blackness sprouted from her fingertips. “Then I’ll just have to bind and take you!” she shrieked and charged forward.
“Stay back, my Captain!” Mary shouted as she stepped up to meet the other woman’s attack.
I growled in frustration, there was no way I’d interfere in a duel, unless, of course, Mary was going to lose, but I didn’t expect that to happen. For now, I’d keep the swirling melee on deck away from the pair, but if I needed to intervene, I would.
Several Imperial crewmen chose that moment to rush me, evidently thinking there was safety in numbers since Mary was otherwise occupied. I dodged one cutlass, knocked another out of the way and killed the wielder of the third with a skull-crushing blow to the forehead. Yanking my axe free, I lopped off the arm of another attacker, kicked his mate in the belly which sent the man flying overboard. These men were nothing but common crew, brave but not much of a challenge.
Mary, though, had a bit more on her plate.
Flashing blades and shadowed claws clashed as the pair fought. Hexes flew without regard for collateral damage, paralyzing random bystanders, aging wood to ash and sending fighters across the deck slipping, sliding and falling over themselves as they lost their footing and their weapons.
I stayed low and out of the way. Having seen Mary in action, I figured it best to keep out of direct line of sight with either woman. Not that that was an easy task, but I kept moving, fighting men that got too close and assisting my own crew with their battles.
If it weren’t for the shouts and back and forth fighting on the shifting chaos of an unstable deck, the duel between Mary and the black-eyed witch would have kept my attention locked on it. It was nothing like I imagined a witch fight to be like, but then, I’d never seen witches meet in conflict face to face. It had always been hexes and spells flying between ships.
This particular fight was like watching two skilled swordsmen going at it hammer and tongs. I figured there’d only be one mistake allowed either party, and that would decide the other’s fate.
The Imperial witch was a larger woman, with a longer reach, but Mary was quicker and more agile. On the level I could perceive, the pair seemed well matched. Magically, though, was a lot harder to tell.
Mary nicked one of her own arms and drew out blood as the two exchanged a series of blindingly fast attacks and parries. Instead of falling to the deck or scattering in droplets, the crimson arc grew into a weapon that danced along with my witch as she circled and fought. Her opponent was suddenly fighting three blades, two of silver and one of blood, and that turned the tide just enough for my witch.
Her mismatched eye flashed, and one of her opponent’s onyx orbs exploded in its socket. The witch screamed and flopped backward, holding her face as blood poured from the open socket.
Mary let out a scream and struck, but instead of using her knives, she spun the arc of her blood through a complex pattern in the air and thrust her blades out at the Imperial witch. The blood reshaped into a spike and shot out to pierce the other witch through the heart before collapsing back into liquid as the woman fell. The body quivered a couple of times and went still.
Mary turned to me and smiled faintly, blood still dripped from where she’d cut herself, and it wasn’t the only wound she’d suffered. A bleeding bruise marred her forehead above her pale eye, some of her hair was burned away, and the tips of her fingers were blackened.
“She was the only witch still active aboard, my Captain,” my witch reported. “I was able to pull that much from her mind before she died.”
I just took the idea of Mary ripping thoughts from a dying woman’s head in stride. “Good. What happened to the others?”
“Fled when the ambush started. They were both assigned by the Admiral and had no loyalty to Arde.” She took a deep breath. “Ready for more?” A grin spread over my witch’s face, and she bounced a couple of times on her bare toes.
That was my Mary.
I smirked, nodded, then got back to business. I lead the way down the stairs beyond the broken doors. Two more of the marines guarded the stairs down to the first of the cannon decks, and they fired on us immediately. Wood splintered, and a lit lantern popped, spilling burning oil down the wall next to the door. They should have waited until we were closer to let fly, but even Layne’s killers could feel fear, and Mary and I painted a very frightening picture, as blood-covered and fast as we were.
Fire on the ship, though. That was bad. Hopefully, we’d have time to deal with it.
Mary gave the evil eye to both of them, setting me up for the kills. Two swings of my axe later, and we were pounding down the stairs to emerge at last onto the upper cannon deck. The air was thick with the smell of powder and hazy with smoke. Sweating, shirtless men rushed about, priming the guns on the side facing my ship. We’d barely made it in time.
“Hold this,” I roared at Mary, handing her my axe without looking. She let out a yip as she took it and the weight almost carried her to the floor.
I had my eyes on something bigger.
While the cannon master hadn’t noticed us yet, the closest gun crew to the stairs had. I was on them in a flash, grabbing both by their scalps before slamming their heads together. They both went limp in my hands as blood gushed from their foreheads, so I simply hurled one into the next crew, bowling over both of them as rage and fury took hold. Without pause, I sent my second human projectile hurtling into the gunners, red washing over my vision.
These bastards had shot up my ship, and they were about to do it again!
I let out another roar that sent the nearest crew scrambling in fear, grabbed the butt of the closest cannon, and braced my legs. Muscles straining and a growl roiling through my chest, I heaved with all my might and tore the blasted thing from its mountings. With a staggering step, I swept the brass cannon through the deck, taking out crewmen, support beams, and anything else that stood in my way. Men screamed and died, cannons were thrown aside, splintered wood burst through the air, and broken po
wder casks spilled their shiny, black contents across the floor.
Chaos and mayhem were left in my wake as I crushed men against the floor and walls, sent them flying out the trap doors, and did serious damage to the internal structure of the deck. Then, with a final roar and heave, I sent my makeshift bludgeon plummeting out through one of the trap doors and into the sea beyond. Now, the whole ship knew we were here, and I’d definitely given the lower gun crew something to think about.
As I stood there, heaving in a deep breath as I recovered my rational wits, I caught a look of sheer awe and unbridled lust from my witch. Mary was beaming and disheveled, one breast nearly bared by her open top, and once more, every bit of her exposed skin and her clothing was splashed with blood, the ruby dark against her pale flesh.
“Gods below,” she breathed.
I was about to reply when one of the men poked his head up the stairs and let out a sudden shriek of surprise. Flames were already lighting the area above the stairs we’d come down.
“Fire!” Mary yelled at him.
His eyes went even wider, and he screamed down the stairs. Mere moments later, a stampede of gunnery crew shot up the stairs, saw the licking flames at the egress, and abandoned ship by the most expedient route, the trap doors.
I briefly wondered how many of Ligeia’s sharks were still with us, and what the merfolk would do to anyone they found in the water. Mary and I looked at the fire creeping down the stairs then at each other. The center beam was sagging where I’d broken out most of the supports during my cannon rampage.
She started laughing suddenly. “I think we stopped the cannons,” she said between giggles, “but where’s that bastard Arde?”
“I’m right bloody here, you misbegotten bitch,” a dark, angry voice bellowed as a man came stomping down the burning stairs. He held a long-barreled pistol in one hand and what looked like a short, long-bladed spear in the other. “This is the second time you subhumans have managed to damage my ship, and I’m done with you! Once I’ve killed you both, I’m going to have my way with your corpses and then haul your heads back to Admiral Layne as trophies!”
Recent times hadn’t been kind to Sebastian Arde. His usually impeccable naval uniform was disheveled, the hat missing. His long, brown hair was pulled back from a high brow in a tight ponytail, though like the rest of the man, it was untidy with stray hairs and unevenly tied. A few buttons on the Commodore’s waistcoat were missing as well, and his garb sported some cuts and burns.
Perhaps the most unnerving thing was his eyes. They were normally of a hazel color, but as he looked us over, they gleamed a pale, pale blue that was almost white, and they burned with madness. A sheen of sweat glistened on his exposed skin, and a touch of flames flickered along one of his sleeves where it had caught fire unnoticed. Mad with rage, there was no way to reason with man, not that I wanted to, anyway.
Mary’s evil eye flashed, but Sebastian Arde just grinned. “That doesn’t work on me, girl.” The barrel of his gun came up suddenly. “Think you can hex a pistol ball, witch?”
I reached for my axe where Mary had dropped it, meaning to charge the mad Commodore and put an end to his babbling before he set off the spilled powder with a misfired shot or something equally bad.
Arde pulled the trigger and powder flared in the reservoir, but nothing happened, a flash-in-the-pan. Had Mary actually hexed the gun, or was it just dumb luck? Either way, our enemy was about to have an even worse day.
He tossed the gun aside as I crossed the space between us, fending me off my first swing with his spear. His parry deflecting my axe into the powder-covered floor before he thrust the point at my midsection.
“Ye be through, Commodore,” I growled as I slipped past the thrust. “Even if ye somehow survive me, the elves will take care o’ ye an’ yer fleet.”
“Then we’ll all go down to the deep together, greenskin.” Arde laughed as he swung the spear butt at my knee while I wrenched my axe free from the wood. The swing thudded hard into my knee, but I was an orc, and my tree-trunk-like legs just shrugged off the blow.
I ignored the pain that flared in my bicep and, without a word, began to hammer away at him with my axe. He was a slippery bastard, though, faster than I thought he’d be and bearing the strength of madness. He slid past my blows and somehow managed to evade Mary when she tried to flank him.
Something was definitely wrong here. Commodore Arde had never been known to be a slouch in a fight, but he was an older human and not packed with muscle like old marines and trained fighters. He wielded that spear with inhuman grace and precision, deflecting or blocking both mine and Mary’s attacks. Something had to be giving him power and skill he simply didn’t have before.
Not that I would let that stop me from killing this bastard.
All the while, the flames grew closer. The whole arm of Arde’s coat was on fire, now, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He was too far gone, lost in a battle rage that I understood. I’d seen orcs and some Northmen, riddled with arrows and dead on their feet, be carried by their rage to kill half a dozen men before expiring.
Sebastian Arde dodged a swing of my axe by a hair’s breadth, then laughed as he thrust that odd spear at my face and forced me back. I took the step, spun around quickly, and brought my broadaxe crashing down towards his exposed head.
He stopped it.
Somehow, the mad Commodore got the haft of that spear in the way and blocked my blow. The axe rebounded as he laughed again.
“Ist that all you have, orc?” Arde demanded as he spun the weapon back into a ready position.
Mary darted in from his blind side, but he just danced aside as if he knew she was coming. A quick slash drove her to retreat a few steps, and Sebastian came at me again with a rapid series of stabs that forced me to parry and backpedal. My attack should have broken the man’s spear in half and cleaved him from crown to crotch with as much force as I’d put behind it.
Instead, Commodore Arde blocked it, forced me back, and took the offensive. That could only mean one thing: The odd weapon he used was the source of his strength.
Could we disarm him? I wasn’t used to having my strongest blows stopped in their tracks by such a slip of a man. I caught Mary’s eye and flicked my eyes right.
She nodded, shifted her grip on her knives, and circled back around, opposite me. I parried a strike of the spear and swung for Arde’s head to try to regain the offensive while Mary went for his opposite side.
Sebastian dodged and went for my witch, his spear sweeping into a slash that might have taken her legs out from under her if she hadn’t leaped over it. The whole action threw the Commodore off-balance, one foot shifted a bit, came down in some loose powder, and slipped.
Both the witch and I saw the opening and went for it. He had been focused on her when it happened. Arde managed to slip her blows despite being unsteady on his feet and drove his spear deep into her thigh.
Mary let out a cry that sent a spike of rage through me. How dare he hurt my witch!
How dare he!
My strength surged. I hadn’t been aware that it had been flagging, but the shot I’d taken, followed by the massive exertion of using a cannon as a weapon, must have taken a toll. Anger that my Mary had been hurt lent me everything I needed. With a roar that shook the ship, I surged at the mad Commodore with my axe swinging. He struggled to block it, but I was a force of nature, a tidal wave of force that would not be denied. My heavy blade splintered the magical spear haft and cleaved the man behind it from crown to navel.
He fell in a rain of blood and viscera which put out most of the fire on his coat with the warm red flood.
Most.
A single tongue of flames touched a pool of dry powder, and it flared up, starting a chain reaction that would lead ultimately to The Indomitable’s powder room. With fire above and powder surrounding us, I took the only option I really had. I scooped up my witch and dove through the closest trap door. There was a moment’s glimpse, as we
flew free of the doomed ship, of the starry sky above, then my back hit the water hard enough to knock the wind out of me.
I released Mary and sank, as orcs do, as a massive burst of flame lit the water above us.
33
The shockwave hit a moment after the bloom of light from the surface. It struck me like a giant’s fist and shoved my sinking body even deeper as it drove some of the precious air from my lungs. The pain was intense, and my vision of the back-lit surface above filled with silhouettes of sinking debris, some headed quickly to the bottom, while most, such as fragments of wood and lighter things, floated.
Something still burned, too, but I had only one thought in my air-deprived brain: Where was Mary?
Surely she didn’t sink as fast as I. My arms and legs moved as I tried to force them to struggle for the surface, but they didn’t want to work. They just twitched spastically. This wasn’t good.
My ears popped. The pressure was growing, and the light above was receding. How deep was the water?
Mary? Mary!
Then a face loomed suddenly in my vision, a beautiful, sharp-featured creature with dark eyes and hair that floated about her head like a halo in the water. It was Ligeia, my siren. Was she going to serenade my demise beneath the waves? Or did she come with some final salvation like a shark-toothed angel of the deep?
The siren grabbed me with surprisingly strong hands, stopping my descent in the depths. She flashed me a wan smile, then kissed me.
That kiss was like something out of human storybooks, and yes, I’d read a few. Sturmgar insisted that the orcs under his command learn to read, and I found I enjoyed it after the initial frustration wore off.
I felt an overwhelming sensation of tranquility and love, and a spark of warmth grew where our lips pressed tightly together. Mine parted against hers, and there was the briefest touch of our tongues together, avoiding her razor-sharp teeth.
My mind cleared, and I found I could breathe.
