Dross (Sphereworld: Joined at the Hilt Book 2)

by Caleb Wachter

  “What about the forward hold?” Randall asked, hoping to use the same ‘berth’ he had used during his previous passage aboard the Maid.

  Rhekim shook his head, “The inspection teams are too thorough any more. They’re all on high alert, as though they’re looking for smuggled weapons—or the types who would want to use weapons inside the city,” he added pointedly.

  “What can we do?” Randall asked.

  Rhekim looked Ellie and Yordan over thoughtfully, “Can either of you lasses swim?”

  The girls exchanged wary looks, but Randall suspected he knew where Rhekim was going with his question. “It’s all right, girls,” Randall assured them. “you’ll probably need some reeds, though.”

  Dusk, 3-2-6-659

  The entire day passed as the Jiggling Maid sat tied to the dock, unable to leave due to the harbor patrol’s painfully slow inspections of the many vessels ahead of the Maid in the disembarkation queue. Finally, just as the last rays of the setting sun streamed down from above, one of the six man inspection teams boarded Rhekim’s riverboat and commenced with their ‘inspection,’ which ended up largely consisting of them throwing containers around and stabbing sacks with their swords, causing their contents to spill onto the boat’s deck and sole.

  After they had tossed the entire ship’s cargo—and thankfully failed to locate any of the Maid’s hidden passengers—the team’s commander began to review the ship’s paperwork, including Randall’s travel documents. “What is your purpose of your travel, Baron?” the commander asked after reviewing Randall’s patents.

  “I’m on a pilgrimage,” Randall lied as easily as he could manage, “visiting holy sites and temples in the Riverlands.”

  The commander eyed him suspiciously while holding his patents—patents which did not include Dan’Moread’s writ of ownership, which was tucked safely in his cloak’s hidden rear pocket just as Dan’Moread was strapped across his back to conceal her beneath the cloak.

  “Did you not collect any curios or fetishes during your pilgrimage?” the commander asked.

  “It is not that kind of pilgrimage, Lieutenant…?” Randall trailed off after pointedly looking at the man’s rank insignia.

  “Santos,” the commander replied unflinchingly, “Lieutenant Bradley Santos, Sub-Commander of the Three Rivers Customs Enforcement Agency. “I’m sure it’s a case of mistaken identity, but there is an outstanding warrant for someone matching your description. You’ll need to come with us to clear it up, Baron.”

  “On whose authority do you detain me?” Randall demanded.

  “On the authority of the War Council’s invocation of the Security and Privacy Act,” Santos replied coolly. “All Federation-held territories are hereby placed under heightened security due to directives issued from the Federation Capitol.”

  “You mean you’ve declared martial law,” Randall concluded.

  “Call it what you will,” Santos gestured to the boarding ramp, “you’ll need to come with us.”

  Randall looked up at the sun just a few seconds before its last sliver of light vanished into darkness. He remembered Phinjo’s warning that they needed to depart Three Rivers before dusk of this very day, but while Dan’Moread could fight them free of a six man Federation Customs team it would be a hard-fought thing.

  Even if they emerged victorious, and assuming they could defeat all six of the Federation soldiers, he had little hope that the Jiggling Maid would escape before the full might and fury of the Federation’s military would send it to the bottom of the harbor as a ruined hulk. From where he stood on the deck of the riverboat, he could see no fewer than thirty Federation soldiers who would be on the Maid’s deck in a matter of seconds if an alarm was sounded.

  We should fight them, Dani said with conviction, it is better to take our chances than to march to our deaths.

  He shook his head firmly. Right now they needed subterfuge and deception more than strength of arms, and there was still a chance he could salvage this situation—though he honestly did not know how—so he schooled his features and walked toward the gangplank.

  “I need to get upriver,” Rhekim said gruffly as Randall stepped onto the dock, followed by the team of Customs officers. “If he comes back tonight can we leave before dawn?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Santos said severely, “the harbor is under strict curfew. You’ll need to remain here until we sort this matter out, unless you’re willing to leave this passenger behind and disembark right now.”

  “I can get another boat,” Randall said while making brief but pointed eye contact with Rhekim, who nodded in understanding.

  “Cast off,” Rhekim barked at his crew, who quickly pulled the gangplank back onto the Maid’s deck and pushed off from the dock.

  This may be the final mistake we ever make, Dani said grimly.

  “I’m aware of that,” Randall whispered as he felt his flyl begin to warm against his chest, “but I have to get the others to safety.”

  I hope they recognize the risk you are taking for them.

  “It’s a risk we’re taking for them,” he said pointedly as his flyl began to vibrate softly against his chest—which was something it had never previously done. “Get ready, Dani…something’s about to happen,” he muttered as he ran the complex sequence of movements required for him to free Dani from her concealed spot against his back.

  “This way, sir,” the commander gestured toward a nearby guard station built into the sea-ward city wall, which stood thirty feet high and was made of two foot cubes of solid stone.

  Chapter XV: The Sea of Tears

  Nightfall, 3-2-6-659

  With each step that Randall took toward the guard house, his flyl’s vibrations increased and it grew increasingly warm against his chest.

  “I’m sure we’ll clear this misunderstanding up, sir,” Lieutenant Santos said in what was obviously mock reassurance. Randall shot a look over his shoulder to see the Jiggling Maid had nearly passed the small harbor lighthouse which illuminated the inner harbor and clearly showed Rhekim standing on the deck of his boat where he directed his crew. Randall knew that he needed to buy them as much time as possible if his friends were going to escape Three Rivers, so that meant playing along.

  We must fight, Randall, Dani insisted as they drew steadily nearer to the guard house.

  “Something’s about to happen,” Randall muttered, hoping to keep his voice low enough that only Dani heard him.

  “And what might that be?” Santos asked in the uniquely smug tone of an empowered bureaucrat.

  “I don’t know,” Randall said as he was forced to reach beneath his sand drake armor to pull his flyl away from his skin. It had grown so hot that he thought it would soon burn his skin, and when he pulled it free of his leather armor he saw that it was shining as brightly as a torch.

  “What the…?” Lieutenant Santos growled, his hand going to his blade after his eyes locked onto Randall’s Flylrylioulen.

  Randall was just about to duck to the side and do his best to pull Dan’Moread free from concealment, but a sudden gust of wind kicked up so much dust that he had to shield his eyes to keep from having them buffeted raw.

  He turned his back to the wind, which was improbably blowing out from the city toward the harbor instead of the other way as was usual, and cracked his eyes open just enough to make out a massive blur of motion out on the water.

  The gust of wind slowly subsided, and as it did so he managed to open his eyes even more—and it was then that he realized that there was not motion on the water, but rather that the water itself had swollen upward in the shape of a dome.

  Alarms sounded all across the harbor—and soon the city’s main bell, which was normally reserved for telling time, joined in the alarm as Federation soldiers sprinted toward the various guard houses and other fortifications.

  “To arms!” Lieutenant Santos cried, drawing his blade and ignoring Randall as he ran down to the harbor. “We are besieged—to your posts!”

>   Randall ran to a nearby hut which had previously been filled with fish cakes and, once there, pulled Dan’Moread from concealment and felt the familiar thrum of her possession run up his arm.

  We should run, she said tightly.

  “I didn’t know you had that in you,” Randall muttered as Dan’Moread guided them toward the city. While they ran from the harbor, Randall heard an unfamiliar metal-on-metal sound that was so deep and loud even Dani stopped to look in its direction. Standing atop the thirty foot tall sea-ward wall, which housed the guard house where Santos had intended to take them, was a trio of Federation war machines which sent shivers down Randall’s spine.

  He had seen them in action once before, albeit briefly, when the Federation had overthrown the Kheifs and taken control of Three Rivers. Twice as tall as the stoutest man, and nearly as broad as they were tall, the three war machines had vaguely humanoid dimensions and stood on squat, metal legs. They had no heads, but their torsos were spherical and there were eye slits not unlike a knight’s visor built into the middle of their ‘chests.’ A pair of long, metal arms protruded from their ball-jointed shoulders, and each of the metal juggernauts sported identical armaments: one arm ended in what looked like a circular saw, and the other ended in a metal claw.

  Using those claws, the metal war machines picked up massive boulders which were heavier than Randall and hurled them into the harbor with improbable velocity. Their arcs resembled those of a catapult stone as they soared toward the dome-shaped disturbance in the harbor—a disturbance which steadily grew with each passing second. It was already fifty feet across and half as tall, and Randall felt no shame in being absolutely terrified at what began to emerge from that water.

  A giant, conch-shaped structure at least twenty feet tall emerged from the water. Even without the Federation soldiers’ searchlights, which fully illuminated the aquatic monstrosity, Randall’s keen eyes would have easily discerned that it was not truly a single shell, but rather it seemed to be an aggregate of thousands of smaller shells which had somehow fused together.

  The massive shell was only part of the creature which emerged from the unnatural bubble of water, as soon the bones of ocean-going leviathans became visible. They, too, seemed joined in an unnatural fusion which formed a roughly humanoid shape—a shape for which the conch appeared to serve as the right arm.

  In the span of just a few seconds, the massive bones—some of which were twice as long as Randall’s entire body—were encircled by swarms and schools of sea life. Fish, squid, octopuses, crabs, and even starfish pulled themselves up in rhythmic, heaving unison until the bones were no longer visible. The varied sea life writhed and squirmed as it drew up from the harbor’s water. Wrapping itself around the towering giant’s makeshift skeleton, ton upon ton of sea life quickly completed the colossal creature’s asymmetrical body—a body which received the three stones which the Federation war machines had hurled at it.

  Two of those stones struck the conch-like arm of the towering monstrosity—which now stood no less than fifty feet tall and was clearly still growing—and shattered the concretion which made up the conch’s upper spiral. To Randall’s mixed fascination and horror, the conch quickly began to reform itself. After a few seconds there was no indication it had been struck at all.

  “We have to go, Dani!” Randall shook himself from his awestruck silence.

  I… she began to take a step, and then faltered. This…this is impossible.

  “I agree,” Randall yelled as the towering water fiend began to move toward the docks, “but there it is—we need to run!”

  Yes, she agreed, and she turned their head back toward the city’s interior and sprinted away from the docks as fast as his legs could carry them.

  A sea of Federation soldiers ran past them as they made their way into the harbor. Randall watched their faces for any sign that they recognized him, but thankfully he saw nothing to indicate such as they ducked around the flow of soldiers.

  He only hoped they would make it to the gates unnoticed in the chaos.

  For perhaps the first time since their union, Dan’Moread was categorically grateful for Randall’s small frame and quick feet. Without his superior agility and narrow physique, they would have been trampled by the Federation soldiers a dozen times over as the armored warriors surged past them en route to the Docks District.

  Which way, Randall? she asked after coming to a four-way intersection and leaving the majority of the Federation soldiers behind them. A few stragglers ran down the streets here, but it was nothing compared to the press of bodies which had almost overrun them.

  “Left,” he urged. “Follow that street as far as we can; it leads straight to the southern gate.”

  She took off to the left, feeling the comforting shape of her new hilt in Randall’s hand. A deafening crack shook the ground beneath their feet before a rumbling sound shook it for several seconds before finally abating. Dan’Moread could not recall where, or when, but she somehow knew that sound was unique to the collapsing of a stone building—or wall.

  “What was that?!” Randall asked with his heightened anxiety clear in his voice.

  A wall collapsed, she replied tersely as they sprinted down the street. That leviathan is going to destroy the entire Docks District, and it does not appear that the Federation war machines will present much deterrence.

  “What is that thing?” he asked through deep, labored breaths as she drove his body right to the edge with each successive step.

  I do not know, she said, though somewhere in the deepest recesses of her mind she suspected that was not true. Despite her inability to recall specifics, there was something familiar about the aquatic colossus which seemed bent on laying unilateral siege to the city of Three Rivers. That particular thought prompted her to add, But I believe that whoever summoned it will soon reveal themselves. Why conquer a city if one does not intend to occupy it?

  “Then the gates…” Randall wheezed.

  May not be our best option, she mercifully finished for him, sparing him the effort of interrupting his labored breathing in order to speak, but they are certainly better than sharing the fate presently befalling the Federation soldiers who would give battle to that watery titan.

  A flicker of movement caught her attention and, acting purely on instinct, Dan’Moread flung their body into a nearby alleyway less than a second before the building on the opposite side of the street exploded in a hail of sharp stone shards.

  “What was that?!” Randall gasped.

  Dan’Moread shook their head, I do not know.

  She resumed their sprint down the street and soon caught sight of the southern gate which Randall had mentioned. “There it is,” he panted.

  Dan’Moread heard another deafening crack from the area of the docks—this one followed by any explosion so powerful that the glass from nearby windows shattered and rained down on the street below.

  A curious, whining sound filled their ears and it took Dan’Moread a few seconds to realize that they had literally just been deafened. She could only hope that it was a temporary condition as she surged toward the southern gate moving as fast as Randall’s legs could carry them.

  Another flicker of motion appeared at the edge of their vision, but this time it was so close that Dan’Moread instinctively brought her blade around to parry what seemed likely to be an attack.

  Her acid-hardened edge sank a half inch into the White Steel broadsword which she had seen flash in her peripheral vision, and after re-setting their feet Dan’Moread saw a most unwelcome sight:

  A Senatorial Guardsman, encased in identical armor to that which the beast man had worn back in Greystone.

  “You have something that belongs to me,” the Guardsman growled as he spun his White Steel broadsword over in his hand. He then drew his order’s infamous ‘Equalizer’ dagger from his belt, deftly reversing his grip on it before launching a series of rapid-fire attacks. She countered the fluid combination of thrust-slash-thrust-swipe wi
th the flat of her blade intercepting every other attack, while Randall’s supreme reflexes permitted her to dodge the rest.

  A brief counterattack window came and she took it, lunging behind her wedge-shaped tip and putting the Guardsman on his heels as she followed the thrust with a pivot and overhand blow which maximized her internal Titansand ballast at the point of impact.

  The Guardsman foolishly blocked the incoming attack with his White Steel broadsword, and paid for his mistake when two thirds of his weapon’s blade was cleaved from the hilt, leaving a foot-long piece of jagged metal above the cross-piece.

  She almost lashed out with a left kick to his knee, but remembered at the last moment that doing so would be far more likely to damage Randall’s leg than the Guardsman’s. Instead, she tucked their chin and rolled clear of the Guardsman’s Equalizer as the enchanted weapon literally whistled through the air where their neck had been.

  Coming to her feet, she reflexively returned her Titansand ballast to her pommel’s reservoir. Doing so made her far more maneuverable and responsive in Randall’s relatively weak arms, but it also sacrificed tipward mass which made blocking far more difficult.

  The Guardsman, thankfully, did not seem aware of that fact as he authored another series of rapid-fire attacks. He was good, Dan’Moread had to give him that, for he expertly timed and ranged his blades—even the sundered remnant of his broadsword—in such a way that, if anything, he became more dangerous after losing the bulk of his broadsword’s blade.

  She gave ground, parrying and dodging rather than blocking as the Guardsman’s onrushing attack gave no obvious counterattack openings. He scored a hit with the broken broadsword slicing across Randall’s left arm, but she ignored the pain and remained focused on finding an opportunity to regain the initiative.

  That opportunity came when the building behind her exploded, showering the Guardsman with a hail of stones—some as large as a fist. She leapt forward, slashing at his thighs as he fought to regain his balance, but she was determined to keep him reeling. She scored a hit to his left thigh before turning aside a counterattack from his Equalizer. Mindful not to strike the Equalizer directly—since striking the beast man’s Equalizer had caused a dangerous explosion back in Greystone—she pivoted and front-kicked his left, Equalizer-wielding hand at the wrist and sent his arm splaying out wide while she followed up with an overhand blow.