Demonbane (Book 4)
Page 31
Somewhere off in the rain-shrouded night a sailor begin singing an old sea chanty. His voice was badly out of tune.
“You—you’re going to kill them? Kill…that thing?” Marley asked.
Kendril wiped the rain from his face. “Keep your voice down.”
“There’s just one of you.” Marley let the boat drift for a second and rubbed the rain out of his own eyes. “You can’t take the whole ship by yourself.”
“Just row,” Kendril said irritably. He looked out across the moon-lit water of the harbor, scanning one ship after another. Most were dark and lifeless.
“What do you care, anyways?” Marley asked between pulls on the oar. “Why—?”
“How many men are onboard?” Kendril asked abruptly.
Marley shook his head. Despite the amount of alcohol he had consumed that evening, the increasing danger was sobering him quickly. “I don’t know. A dozen, perhaps? Then there’s the first mate, a nasty fellow he is—”
“The rest of the crew? Are they new hands like you, or like the two we met back at the tavern?”
The old sailor hesitated for a moment in thought. “They’re a tight bunch. I joined on at Cayman. The captain needed a decent cook. I guess the last one fell overboard during a storm—”
“They’re in on it, then.” Kendril drew one of his short swords and checked the blade. It glistened softly in the wavering moonlight. “Arms?”
Marley shrugged. “The Justine’s a cargo ship, not a man o’war. There’s about half a dozen muskets kept locked in the powder room, along with a dozen or so pistols. One cannon, mounted on the fore deck. A six-pounder.”
Kendril replaced his blade. “Swivel-mounted?”
Marley gave a short nod. “Aye. Just a pop-gun, really.”
The Ghostwalker raised an eyebrow. “Still enough to blow a dinghy out of the water.”
The old sailor swallowed and said nothing.
Kendril lifted his eyes to the yellow moon above them. Its pale light fell on the harbor, glittering and reflecting off the rippling water. There was no way they would approach the Justine unobserved, not if anyone on the deck was keeping a lookout.
“There she is, sir,” Marley breathed. He nodded over his shoulder towards the darkened shape of a ship towards the edge of the harbor, anchored near the breakwater.
Kendril sat up in the dinghy, looking with interest. The cargo ship was large, a three-master. There were no lights aboard her. Kendril thought he could make out movement on the deck.
“I don’t want to go on that ship again,” Marley began, his voice starting to quaver. “I already told you, sir, what’s down below—”
“What’s down below isn’t why I’m boarding her,” Kendril said tersely. “When we pull up alongside her I want you to go up first.”
Marley stared at his companion in horror. “Me? But I thought—”
“Hush,” Kendril hissed. He put one hand on the hilt of his pistol as they neared the ship.
A face looked over the side. “Who goes there?” a voice called.
Kendril glared at Marley from under his raised hood.
The old sailor took a deep breath, then called back. “Ahoy! It’s just me, old Marley.”
There was a pause. “And who’s that with you, then?”
Marley froze. He looked over at Kendril for inspiration.
Kendril tightened his grip on the pistol and half-drew it from his belt.
“Stefan,” Marley said at last. “It’s Stefan. Drank like a fish, he did. I’m bringing him back on board to sleep it off.”
There was a grunt of acknowledgement. The face disappeared.
Kendril looked at Marley questioningly.
The old sailor brought in the oars. “You shot Stefan,” he said in a low voice.
The dinghy bumped against the side of the ship, rocking up and down under the gentle swells of the harbor.
“Go,” Kendril whispered.
Marley closed his eyes, breathed a whispered prayer, then grabbed the rope ladder. He clambered up onto the deck.
“Thought you’d stay out longer for shore leave,” the sailor chuckled as Marley climbed over the railing. “Rumor is we’re leaving on the morning tide, and—” He turned as Kendril climbed on board, and his eyes grew wide. “Hey, you’re not—”
Kendril leapt forward before both his feet were even on the deck and drew his sword.
The sailor reached for a cutlass at his belt, his hand frantically grasping for the handle.
Kendril smashed the hilt of his short sword into the man’s face.
Without a sound the sailor crumpled to the deck boards and lay still.
Across the deck another sailor turned, then ran for the hatch that led below.
Kendril spun. A knife flashed in his free hand, glinting in the soft moonlight. A half-second later it blurred through the air.
The second sailor gave a strangled gasp and collapsed to the deck a few paces short of the hatchway. The knife protruded from his back.
Marley gave a stifled cry and dashed for the rope ladder.
Kendril intercepted him and smashed the cook hard against the ship’s railing.
“You’re crazy,” Marley gasped, “I won’t—”
Kendril clamped a gloved hand over the cook’s mouth. “That dinghy’s the only way back to shore short of a long, cold swim, and I’m not letting you take it. Now take me to the woman, or I’ll gag you and tie you to the mast.”
“I won’t—“ Marley blubbered. “I—I can’t—”
“Hey!” came a shout from behind them.
Kendril and Marley both snapped their heads around.
A sailor was standing by the open hatch, staring at his two fallen crewmates in horror. His eyes fastened on Kendril for a moment, then he swung back to the hatchway. “Intruders!” he yelled. “We’ve been boarded!”
“Talin’s ashes,” Kendril cursed. He released Marley, stepped back and whipped out a flintlock pistol from underneath his cloak.
The sailor stepped forward. He put his hand on the hilt of a long knife tucked into his belt.
Kendril’s pistol banged out through the driving rain, lighting the deck in a flash of orange fire.
With a cry the sailor lurched back through the open hatch.
Marley leapt up and dove for the rope ladder again.
Kendril glanced over at the fleeing cook. He holstered his pistol and drew another short sword. “Marley!”
The cook disappeared over the side.
Kendril turned back to face the hatchway. “Perfect,” he mumbled.
Two men erupted from the hatchway, cutlasses in their hands. From somewhere below a whistle blew.
Kendril charged. He swiped his swords in short, precise attacks at the oncoming men.
The sailors fell back before the aggressive attack. Steel clanked against steel as they fought and parried against the black-cloaked man.
One of the sailors gave a sudden cry and dropped his weapon. His arm gushed red blood from a severe gash. He fell back over a pile of tackle on the deck.
Another crewman dashed out from the open hatchway, fumbling with a short-barreled musket.
Kendril swung his swords around and cut down the second sailor he had been fighting.
The man fell to the deck, a red stain forming beneath his unmoving body.
Two more sailors bundled out. They both hesitated as they saw the number of fallen men on the deck.
The crewman with the musket cursed as he tried to use the obviously unfamiliar weapon. He struggled desperately with the firing mechanism.
Kendril turned back. He swiftly stuck the tip of one of his short swords straight down into the planks of the deck, where it stood hilt-up. He yanked out another flintlock with his free hand, and thumbed back the lock.
The sailor raised the musket in panic.
The other two crewmen with the cutlasses actually backed away.
Kendril pulled the trigger. The gun in his hand sparked and roared.
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The man with the musket jerked back, his body twisting unnaturally like a ragdoll. He fell over the railing into the water below.
Kendril allowed himself a triumphant smirk. He put away the smoking pistol and took up the second sword again.
There was a wooden thump from behind him.
Kendril turned his head slightly.
The fore hatch of the cargo ship had been opened. A huge man, dressed in a dark robe and with a black turban wrapped around his head, climbed easily out. He stood to his full, tremendous height, then flashed his white teeth at Kendril in a smile.
“Take him alive, Abid,” came a thin voice from in front of Kendril.
Kendril turned his head back.
A man stood idly by the first aft hatchway, his hands folded placidly in front of him. He wore a dark red robe with a hood that overshadowed his face. Around his neck dangled a golden ornament.
A serpent with wings.
The two sailors cringed back, reluctant to move forward.
Kendril ignored both of them, and whirled to face the gigantic man behind him.
Abid shook his left hand and a coiled rope of some kind fell loose from his grip. His other hand lifted a massive scimitar which gleamed menacingly in the pale moonlight. He smiled again at Kendril.
From below decks came the sound of more shouting. Undoubtedly more crewmen were on their way.
There was no time to reload the pistols. It would have to be sword work.
Kendril threw himself forward.
Abid snapped his hand forward and swung from the shoulder.
There was an ear-splitting crack, and the sword in Kendril’s hand was struck a violent blow. It flew out of his hand and skittered across the deck and out of sight.
A whip. Abid had a whip.
Kendril rocked back on his feet, recovering from his initial shock. His hand and wrist stung from the blow. Behind him he heard the tramp of approaching feet.
Abid’s smile broadened, almost apologetic.
Kendril lurched forward with a snarl. He swung back his second sword to strike.
The imposing man swung the whip forward again, as quick as a stroke of lightning.
This time the lash caught Kendril around the leg. He felt blistering pain as it snapped around his ankle and calf.
Abid yanked the whip back.
Kendril’s ensnared leg flew out from under him.
He hit the deck hard. Blood spurted from his nose. He still had a grip on his sword, determined not to lose his last weapon. Kendril rolled over to his side and kicked the whip off his leg.
A heavy footfall sounded behind him.
Kendril turned, half-rising.
An emboldened sailor was almost on top of him, a cutlass held in his sweaty hand.
Kendril lunged forward. He swiped his sword at the sailor’s knees.
The man dodged back with a frightened yelp.
Kendril tried to right himself, still off-balance from his impromptu attack.
“Alive,” reminded the man in the red cloak.
Kendril felt a warning bell go off in his head. He jerked his head back around.
As silently as a cat, Abid had come up just behind him. He was still smiling.
Breathing hard, Kendril jumped to his feet and turned to attack. He already knew he couldn’t make it.
With a blow like a falling hammer, the hilt of Abid’s scimitar smashed into Kendril’s face.
The world flashed to white, swirled into purple, then went black.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Books in the Chronicles of Zanthora
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21