“It is a terrible thing to destroy knowledge,” Stunt said with a chilly seriousness. “Besides, it belongs to you,” he said relaxing his voice and sliding the blade back into its sheath. “You asked me to hold it for you, along with that gun you’ve become so enamored of.”
“Oh, well then,” Scammander said. “That certainly settles it.”
Stunt relaxed in a moment of triumph, then Scammander chucked the antique volume up into the air once more. Stunt leapt up as the tip of his sword pierced the book at the zenith of its arc, saving it from oblivion.
“Very well then Scammander, I suppose I will add this to my library,” the balladeer said, gently removing Pendicott Ponder’s bestiary from the tip of his sword.
Scammander waved his hand. “After thousands of years of reading, I’ve come to the conclusion that reading is one of the worst things one could ever do,” he said turning to me. “Evander whatever you do, never read a book. Especially an academic book,” he added.
I chuckled and turned back to the sky, which had been growing lighter. “I think your mother found out the wrong ogre is king,” I said, looking out into the morning. I could see two large, dark shadows passing through the clouds, getting closer to the ship.
“Dragons,” muttered Stunt. I couldn’t tell if it was a curse or a statement of fact.
They slowly split apart, one flying towards the right side of the ship, the other, the left. Their long, spikey tails calmly extended behind, gently rising and falling as the lizardy leviathans listlessly floated towards us. Finally, I realized that their long tails were actually armored riders, holding lances upright. Two columns of elves carrying long, silver lances mounted on the backs of proud gryphons trailed each dragon as they glided calmly across the pink and purple dome of dawn.
The ship began to slow as the two large dragons, one blue and one black, floated idly on either side of the ship.
“Now is probably the time to speed up,” I said.
“He can’t,” said Scammander as he fiercely cocked the shotgun.
One by one the gryphons landed elegantly on the edges of the mothership. Some of the armored riders dismounted and established a motionless, glittering parameter while others returned to the sky on their gryphons and began revolving in a floating circle not far above The Criseida’s main mast. I could just barely see a few gryphoneers looking down from their swirling circle of soaring animals.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw the blue dragon before returning my gaze to the great black dragon across the deck. Golden light bounced off the ebony scales, which must have been touched by three-hundred thousand sunrises. Its eyes were sharp like Scammander’s, and the thick reptilian scales of the beast belied the mind of an old sage.
It looked at me. It looked at the ship. It looked at the sky. And it looked past it all, and past everything else in this world. More than anything, I wanted to talk with the dragon.
Scammander nudged me in the stomach. “Evander, stop looking into its eye. It will hypnotize you, and then kill me.” His voice was fading and seemed far away. I kept staring into the wonderful orb until Scammander stepped in front of me and blocked my view, severing the gaze shared by me and the wyrm.
I noticed one of the elves was pointing up to the sky, then to the mast, and then again back to the standing wall of shining armor. When he had finished giving orders, the armored elf strode over to Stunt, took his helmet off, and grinned. “Robyn Goodfellow, you—”
From the corner of my eye I saw another armored sky lancer smile at Delicioux, lean over, and smack her butt; he immediately caught on fire. Scammander chuckled, Stunt disappeared, and the sky captain roared and slammed his helmet back on.
“It’s a trap!” he screamed as his blade flashed out of his scabbard. “It’s a trap!” he repeated as he turned his head left and right shouting over his shoulder, whirling his sword over his head.
Other elves were engulfed in fire and stumbling around the ship like streaming fireballs with legs. I grinned before the sky captain shoved his sword up under my nose.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of John Ignatius Mayflower, Honorable Justice Among Humans and Ambassador to the Lower Rounds of the Academy.”
“The poets sang about Justice leaving our world a long time ago,” I said, leaning into the blade. “And I’ve killed more times than you have ever drawn your sword,” I whispered down the gleaming metal, looking into his eyes.
“We don’t care about ogres,” he sniffed and turned his head away, glaring at Scammander. “Scammander. You will have to answer for what you have done to our sweet Unicorn Grove.” He narrowed his eyes with malice. “And your mother won’t be saving you from any charges this time; in fact, she was the most ardent member of the council formed to obtain you for this crime. It seems while murdering and philandering, you also stole Brock Highkeep’s coveted garments with the aid of this stupid minotaur, ruining the New Year’s celebration planned to unite Elves and Humans.”
So we were being framed by Scammander’s mother. I should have expected that the only creature clever and wicked enough to raise a villain like Scammander would be the only villain clever and wicked enough to betray him.
Scammander raised his hand as if making a polite refutation at a learned banquet. “Don’t forget that in stealing the clothes which were to appear in conjunction with another idiot’s publication party, I also ruined the celebration of another tepid scholarly book on Brock Highkeep, which, I submit, might be considered a feat for herohood.” He paused and tilted his head. “Go and fetch a quill captain, I’ll tell you the four types of wine I prefer, and in which order I prefer them to be served to me,” he said shooing the soldier away.
The captain snarled. “Both of you are coming with me, my father—”
“Washes my boots and begs for mercy,” Scammander hissed. There was a loud thump and a rush of air as the captain was blown off the ship, sailing high into the sky until he became a small speck on the horizon. Two smoking shells tumbled onto the deck as Scammander cocked the shotgun. “Mediocrity always becomes arrogant when invested with the power of small offices,” he mused.
“It’s good know you can do philosophy anywhere,” I joked as battles broke out all around me.
And then, there was calamity.
Fighting broke out along the railings of the ship as fast as swords could be drawn. A volley of curses nursed with aeons of loathing soared from the lips of both sides as they clashed in bitter battle.
No one fought fair.
Two elves overpowered an isolated woman and hoisted her over the side of the ship. Another grabbed a female by her long, shimmering curls and flung her over the rails. The elves quickly set into their strategy as lines of glistering knights enveloped the tanned women in pockets of melee and mayhem.
A few of Stunt’s ladies who weren’t instantly pinned in against the railings ran towards the boxes to help their surrounded friends.
One female warrioress with metal talons was rushing through battling packs, grabbing groins and scratching eyeballs. Following close behind was a companion who severed the genitals and stashed them away, flung them at other elves, or tossed them off into the sky.
I looked over at Scammander who was aiming his shotgun at a woman as she sprinted across the deck. An elf turned away from the fray and raced towards her, and as their swords clashed Scammander’s shot gun blast tore through their legs, ripping calves from thighs. The two foes wailed in unison as the wizard marched away and stood over the injured elf. He aimed as the knight squirmed, then blasted him at close range.
Scammander whirled around and jammed the gun into the woman’s head. The warrioress raised a trembling hand across her face as Scammander steadied the gun, then paused for a moment.
“I wanted your pain to last longer,” he hissed with icy malice. Another blast went off, and so did almost everything attached to her body.
“Who’s side are we on?” I said, dumbfounded.
“Our own,�
�� he replied, dumping two shells out of De Brevitate Vitae.
Across the ship two of Stunt’s warriors had surprised a lone elven knight. A slender piratesse grabbed both wings of his helmet and pulled him down to his knees as the other lady in front of him drew back for a vicious kick. The elf winced and clenched his teeth right as the boot struck his throat, throwing the other lady off his shoulders. As the boot drew away I expected to see a bloody knife, but instead there was only the boot tip. The reeling elf’s eyes swelled with surprise as he coughed and clutched at his throat and tried to recover.
“Hurry up Nadia!” the other woman screamed, scrambling back and grabbing the helmet wings again.
Nadia drew back and kicked the stunned knight once more. “It’s not working!” she screamed as she began stomping the deck repeatedly, trying to force the blade to deploy as the dazed knight fell forward in front of her.
Just then a gryphon swept down and as its rider drove his lance through the stomping female’s back, the screeching gryphon plucked the crouching lady off the deck and soared off into the wild morning. When they were but blue shades upon the billowing dawn, rider and beast flung their victims off into the transpicuous sky.
Two bodies fell, but one was still alive enough to scream.
The elf recovered and stood up, flinging a quick salute to the circling riders above. “That’s for trying to set fire to our sacred forest,” he muttered.
Scammander could fight for his own side, but I would fight for the Cresida.
I sprinted across the deck and jammed my crossbow into the knight’s cheek, firing as the ship lurched left. The golden dart zipped past his face and hurdled off into the young morning sky. The ship paused then rolled right just as I shot another arrow, which soared out into the dawn and flashed when the sun struck it.
I dropped my crossbows and drove my hands into his breastplate. He kicked wildly and chopped and hacked my arms but I hurled him out into the howling sky. I snatched a sword from the ooze on the deck and charged two knights rushing towards me, too late to help their friend.
Right as we collided I dropped to a knee and shoved the longsword into the groin of the knight on my left, then twisted the blade and screamed as I leapt up, flipping the impaled elf on his back. I glared at the knight on the right, who froze as my eyes locked with his. I filled his face full of arrows and as he sank to the deck I shook his companion off my blade and wiped the crotch-slime and thick blood on his face.
With a pounding heart, I searched for battles to join. Further up the deck I heard an elf cursing a fallen female.
“Don’t ever forget: our wizards lowered your city into the putrid pond it is today, and yesterday we all pissed in the waters that pour into your stupid pit!” A musket ball soared into his face followed by a billowing cloud of grey smoke which swept over his body.
“Where are your wizards now?” A woman said stepping through the smoke as it slowly cleared from the deck.
Before she could help her companion to her feet, a gang of elves rushed the two women. Three kicked the kneeling woman in her face, sending her to the deck as another two grabbed the woman who had just fired her lone shot. They circled the unconscious female and raised their swords as her companion thrashed and screamed.
“For our ancestors!” They screamed, driving their swords down into the woman.
“For our forests!” They cried, piercing the dying human again.
“For our children!” They cried with a third thrust.
“For your lies!” They cried as their etched swords sank simultaneously into the corpse. From the looks of the corpse, they stabbed her for every branch and leaf in the forest.
The writhing female broke free for a moment before one of her captors recovered and hooked his arms under hers, shoving her breasts out and locking her arms behind her as the second elf grabbed her throat and shoved his sword through her bare navel. Both spat on the corpse as they flung it to the deck.
“Curse your entire line right down to the lowest river!” one snarled as a second arc of spit sailed onto her face.
By now the skirmishes had consolidated into one ferocious battle, leaving the survivors to settle the scores for the dead. The group of knights spun their swords and rushed to the teeming, sweating pack of melee.
I looked over at the other edge of the ship. It was quiet and lonely. The sky beckoned. I could leap off to oblivion and no one would ever notice. I was tired, nervous, alone, and without hope. My shoulders drooped under the weight of existence. I knew the epigram that would be etched on my gravestone, for it was already carved upon my life: tired, solitary, and hopeless. Why give someone else the victory of running a sword through my stomach when I could just do it myself?
I closed my eyes as the morning sun struck my face and released a deep sigh. After a moment I opened them and frowned at life.
Then I began running.
I shook off the thick numbing balm of what so many call “life” and with each huge and humid breath I pressed against the edges of existence. I ran towards the screams, the splatter, the gun smoke—the death. I always ran towards the death. I ran towards the writhing battle pile and hurled myself into the fray.
I lowered my shoulder and slammed into the back of an armored marshall, and as he fell away I skewered him from behind. I kicked the corpse away and drove forward into melee as my heart slammed and heaved with psalms of dark riot. Everyone was packed in so close it was impossible to swing a sword. Stiff corpses stood upright and bounced around in the throbbing melee careening from shoulder to shoulder. Blades were locked and teeth were grit. I noticed a lot of daggers hanging out of groins, stomachs, breasts, and backs.
Suddenly a burst of small arms fire went off in the crowd. A burning ball crashed into my back and burst out of the front of my shroud. I gasped as everything turned to shadows and silhouettes and a cold gauntlet busted my snout. I stumbled a little as I sucked in the humid gun smoke and began to cough.
“Stupid cow,” I heard as I fell backwards in the pile of skirmishing women and knights. “Get off me you blundering bovine!”
I took another breath as life lurched back into view. As a thin forearm wrapped around my neck and began choking me, another swung a cutlass into the neck of an elf just as he was about to run a dagger into my guts.
A pair of legs wrapped around my neck and a tiny hand grabbed my horn. I recognized Nevada’s golden cougar boots and the flashing scimitars that she swung down onto her enemies’ bare necks. Elves fell away with gushing gashes in their necks and across their faces as Nevada hacked through the fray, clearing a space of bloody boards in front of us.
I saw the giant shadow first.
Then I heard the beating wings and the screech as the gryphon swooped down behind me. Nevada’s scimitars scattered to the ground in front of me along with her upper torso as a mounted knight rushed over my head, using both hands to hold a bloody blade the size of a lance.
The bird and rider had come in too hard and too low. An undisciplined beast would have saved its own life and tossed the rider out in the sky so it could soar away to safety, but this one continued its low course. Even as the gore tumbled off the giant two-handed sword a burst of thick bolts thudded into the mounted marshall’s back and the gryphon’s backside and wings. The giant creature screeched as it crashed into the deck, crumpling its wing and breaking it in a different place with each tumble. It slid to a stop and hopped to its feet with one limp wing dragging along the deck as it glowered at its opponents. The dead rider slumped awkwardly in the saddle, hanging off to the side with mangled legs and a back full of bolts.
Two females ran by me and dipped down and plucked the sabers off the deck. I saw them douse the blades in some strange potion which caused the metal to fizz and foam as they rushed the wounded gryphon. The elves had created a protective barrier around the injured beast, but it was too thin to matter. Even as they ran their blades through one female, she shoved the toxic sword into the gryphon just as the other
leapt over the line and drove the scimitar deep into its side.
The gryphon began screeching and convulsing and beating its one good wing as the poison pumped through its veins. Then it began to stumble and moan until finally it fell to the deck with the two gleaming scimitars hanging out of its ribs, like giant fangs torn from the mouth of a snake. I think every elf on and above the ship saw it die.
If there were any rules left restraining either side, they were abandoned.
The elves tore their helmets off and started screaming. Then they pulled the dazed pirate off the dead beast and took the time to beat her until everything was broken. They stomped and battered the body long after the chest had ceased to rise and fall with breath. The gang lifted her up in unison and each knight pulled a different direction and heaved the bits and pieces out into the sky, before grabbing their weapons and rushing back to the fight.
Discipline dissolved as hatred lifted swords that were too heavy to swing, as anger pumped blood to weary hearts and made them warry. They weren’t fighting for each other anymore, they were fighting for memories. The calm circle of mounted knights above broke as they began swooping down, plucking and slashing Stunt’s crew, screaming “Remember our forests!”
I was up on my feet just in time to feel a sword brush the back of my neck, and spun around to see September locking blades with a sky marshall, who looked just as surprised as she did. She pulled her sword off his and spun away to parry an arcing slash from another elf.
The marshall thrust the long sword at my head and I fell backward to the deck as its silver point brushed over my face. I balled up with the momentum and rolled backward as the dawn sky blended with the golden deck. I popped up and fired an errant volley of bright darts as the fierce marshall rushed me again with his blade. Once more I fell back to the deck, tucked my knees into my chest and flipped up over the sword and crashed into the deck on top of the elf knight.
Splatterism: The Disquieting Recollections of a Minotaur Assailant: An Upbuilding Edifying Discourse Page 3
