Blood and Tempest

by Jon Skovron

  Then the tip of the tentacle rose up the starboard side of the ship and curled over the deck back toward the port side so that it circled the ship completely around the waist.

  “It’s got us!” said Finn as he clung to the wheel. “Hope, whatever you’re going to do, you better do it!”

  Hope’s stomach lurched as the Lady’s Gambit rose quickly into the air.

  “Brigga Lin!” she shouted.

  “Right here!” said her friend. “I need to touch it directly!”

  Hope snapped her claw on the sheet she’d been holding hard enough to cut cleanly through the line. She grabbed the line with her flesh hand, then hooked her other arm around Brigga Lin’s waist.

  “Stephan!” she shouted. “Get ready!”

  “For what?” he shouted back.

  “You’ll know!” Then she turned back to Brigga Lin. “Hold on tight.”

  Brigga Lin nodded and put her arms around Hope’s shoulders.

  Hope pulled hard on the line to make sure it was still firmly attached to the top of the mast. Then, carrying Brigga Lin in one arm, she ran down the sloping deck toward the stern until the sheet pulled taut. She jumped, letting the line swing her and Brigga Lin through the air in an arc around the stern and back toward starboard. Once they were at the right trajectory, Hope let go of the line, and the two women flew the short distance into the side of the tentacle. Then they both scrambled up so they sat precariously astride it.

  Brigga Lin put both hands on the slippery surface of the tentacle.

  “Grant us mercy from your wrath, my old master. We are not your enemy.”

  There was a deep, bellowing groan that came from the half-submerged head of the kraken off the port side of the ship. It shifted so that one of its rectangular orange eyes could see them.

  “Get us back down to the deck! Now!” shouted Brigga Lin.

  Hope nodded, grabbed Brigga Lin around the waist with both arms, and pulled them both over the side. They fell to the deck, where the Vinchen were waiting to catch them.

  “Hold on, everyone!” shouted Brigga Lin as she stumbled to her feet.

  The kraken threw their ship toward Stonepeak, skipping it across the water like a stone. Its aim was perfect, sending them right into the bay toward the inner docks. Each time they hit the water, the ship slowed somewhat, but it wasn’t enough for Finn to regain control. The Lady’s Gambit slammed headlong into the docks. There was a heavy wooden groan, followed immediately by a sharp crack.

  “The hull’s been breached!” shouted Missing Finn. “Grab the horses and get to the docks! Abandon ship!”

  Hope turned to see his face screwed up with the agony of losing his ship again so soon.

  “I swear we’ll do everything we can to get her back!” she told Finn.

  He bit his lip and nodded.

  The Black Rose managed to reach the front of the line by the time the monsters broke through the doors. The moment one of the soldiers called up to them on their safe perch at the gate, she knew she had to get down there and show her wags what it looked like to face nightmares and not flinch. She’d heard Merivale call to her as she vaulted over the side and slid down the ladder. Probably some poncey nonsense about hanging back to observe and make strategic decisions. She’d let Merivale do that. The Black Rose knew where she belonged.

  The doors didn’t blow apart in a big explosion like she’d expected. It was the hinges that gave way first. The doors shuddered for a moment, then just toppled forward.

  There was a strange moment when the Black Rose, her wags, and the soldiers stared at the mass of bizarre creatures all pressed together in the hallway on the other side. A single breath of surprise and silence as the two groups sized each other up. And then every hell that had ever been imagined broke loose, and the courtyard was awash in screams, roars, and blood.

  The Black Rose quickly abandoned trying to mentally catalogue all the horrors that the biomancers had created. Reptile things and insect things and furry things. Some were massive and lumbering, others were small and sneaky. Some might have been humans once, others probably never were. None of them seemed evil, really. Just crazed and hungry. But that’s how it was, not just in the Circle, but all over. Everybody wanted to live, and sometimes that meant killing others to do so. It wasn’t good or bad. It just was. There wasn’t any point in getting upset about it. But she did try to make her kills as clean as possible.

  Once the monsters poured into the courtyard, the Black Rose never stopped moving. Her chainblade gleamed red as she whipped it one way, then the other, spreading flecks of blood in all directions. It had been a very long time since she’d had to fight this hard. A long time since she’d truly not known if she was going to live another minute. But at least she wasn’t alone. She had her wags, all of them knowing how grave this was. And she had Moxy Poxy and Mister Hatbox, who were often as not insufferable, but in a pinch like this, the most welcome sight a wag could have. Those two swam through the worst of the carnage as if it were water and they were fish. Fighting monsters with monsters made a certain kind of sense.

  And then there was the Aukbontarens and their crazy machine. That tiny molly, Drissa, with the headwrap and goggles, was going toe-to-toe with the biggest, scariest creatures, and she was winning. She might not have her own strength, but she’d built that mechanical beast and she sure as piss knew how to use it. Its metal legs slammed and smashed continuously, sometimes so hard that the smaller creatures went flying through the air. It was a glorious sight to behold, and the Black Rose decided that if she lived through this, she wanted a giant metal spider machine of her own. Maybe she’d give it to Tosh as a present.

  But the Black Rose couldn’t be thinking too long about Tosh’s soft, creamy thighs at a time like this, other than as another reason to stay alive past today. Because the monsters just kept coming. Ten years’ worth of biomancery came spilling out of the palace, pissed and peppered, and out for blood.

  The fight wore on interminably. The Black Rose didn’t know exactly how long, but her arms were aching and her breath was coming out in a harsh whistle. The others weren’t looking any better. Soldiers lay dead on the cobblestones. Moxy Poxy was slumped against a barrel, and the Black Rose couldn’t tell if the woman was alive or dead. Mister Hatbox continued on his monster murder spree, a truly slippy look in his eye, but his white shirt was torn and he seemed to be spraying as much of his own blood now as anyone else’s. Drissa had managed to kill the biggest brute, a strange, long-nosed, big-eared house of a creature with leathery gray skin, but her machine was all out of fuel now, so she’d had to abandon it in the middle of the courtyard and run to the safety of Catim, the tall Aukbontaren tom with the quick-fire rifle. She noticed that even he was getting careful about his shots, probably down to the end of his ammo. But there were still more monsters spilling out of the palace, fresh and eager for blood.

  So this was how it would be? Eaten by monsters while fighting alongside wags and imps and foreigners? There were worse ways to die, she supposed. She’d witnessed a few of them. And it wasn’t like she was some innocent molly. She’d done things. Terrible things. She’d killed and tortured and maimed. She’d hoped to make up for all that before she died, but she knew better than most, you didn’t always get what you wanted.

  Then, out of the corner of her eye, the Black Rose saw Merivale gesturing wildly over by the gate. She was shouting urgently at one of the soldiers, but he had a streak of blood across his face, and his hands shook violently. He looked so dazed and horror stricken, he probably didn’t understand a word she was saying.

  “Piss’ell.” The Black Rose kicked away the skeletal bird creature she’d been fighting, and ran as fast as her exhausted legs would allow over to them. “What is it?”

  “We need to get the gate open!” Merivale yelled. She had a revolver in her hands now, and fired a shot at an approaching wolf-ant creature, hitting it square between its insect-like eyes.

  “Why?” asked the Black Rose as she
snapped her chainblade at a wasp thing the size of a bird, sending it careening to the ground.

  Merivale gave her a grimly exultant grin. “Reinforcements.”

  “Say no more.”

  The Black Rose examined the gate mechanism. It looked chewed up, like it had been struck by stray bullets. She tried the lever, but it broke off in her hand. She grabbed an ax and began hacking at the chain. Sparks flew, but the chain held firm.

  Drissa suddenly appeared, holding up her hand for the Black Rose to stop. She examined the gate mechanism carefully for a moment, then pointed to a metal pin that threaded through one of the gear wheels.

  “That the weak spot?” asked the Black Rose.

  Drissa nodded.

  The Black Rose swung the ax down on the pin as hard as she could and the whole thing broke apart, sending gears and other bits of metal flying everywhere. One of the gear wheels struck the side of her head, and she saw more than felt as her body dropped to the ground.

  She lay there on the cobblestones, dazed. Then she felt strong hands dragging her to one side.

  “I have you,” came Catim’s deep voice.

  The Black Rose turned her head and saw that the gate was now open. A team of horses charged through, pulling a large wagon. She lifted her head, and even with her slightly unfocused vision, she recognized Bleak Hope, Brigga Lin, Red, Jilly, and what looked like an entire gang of Vinchen warriors.

  “Is she okay?” Merivale’s voice was right next to her ear, sounding genuinely panicked.

  “I’ve stopped the bleeding for now,” said the other Aukbontaren tom, Etcher. “But you see how it is …”

  Dimly, the Black Rose wondered if they were talking about her. It wasn’t just her head that was hurting now. The lower half of her left leg felt hot and heavy and wet inside her boot. But she wasn’t paying it much mind, because there was far too much beauty to see.

  It was Bleak Hope times twenty. The courtyard was awash with leather-clad bringers of justice and death. It was like all the old stories about Vinchen her mom used to tell her. The ones she’d never believed, even as a little girl. How could something so great and fearsome be on her side? Well, sorry, Mom, you were right and maybe I shouldn’t have doubted you. There are some good things in this old world after all.

  “Nettie! Nettie!” Red’s face loomed over, looking pale and terrified.

  The Black Rose tried to speak, maybe tell him to use her proper pissing name, but the best she could manage was a weak, “’ey.”

  “I think I’ve got her stabilized, my lord,” Etcher told him. “She’s going to live.”

  “Red, you need to get in there and put an end to this,” Merivale told him. “Go now, while the way is open. Ammon Set will likely be in the emperor’s apartments on the top floor.”

  Red looked at her, his eyes hard. Then he nodded.

  “You better still be alive when I get back,” he told the Black Rose. Then he disappeared from her field of view.

  She rolled her eyes up at Merivale and Etcher. Merivale still looked very concerned, and Etcher looked sick.

  “Wazziz?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry,” Etcher said. “The only way I’m going to be able to save your life is if you lose the leg.”

  He rummaged through a large leather bag and pulled out a bone saw.

  Ah, she thought.

  What was the word for it …

  Oh yeah. Atonement.

  Red took one look at the smashed lift and knew he would need to pace himself if he was going to run up fifty flights of stairs and still be in any shape to deal with whatever would be waiting for him.

  “You weren’t really thinking of doing this without us, were you?” Hope’s voice came from behind him.

  He turned around and saw them. Brigga Lin in white and Bleak Hope in black. They were blood-spattered, but firm.

  “Naturally not,” he said. “But you’ll have to keep up.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” said Hope. “I’ll race you to the top.”

  Brigga Lin glanced at the broken lift, then at the stairwell, and sighed. “This is not my strong suit. You two go on ahead. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  Red turned to Hope, and despite how grave the situation was, he couldn’t help grinning.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She grinned back at him. “For you? Always.”

  So much for pacing himself.

  “Where in all hells have they gone?” Jilly demanded, wiping the blood off her knife. The monsters had all been killed, and she finally had a moment to check on her friends. But Hope, Brigga Lin, and Red were gone.

  “Who?” asked Uter, still stuck to her side like always. He smiled in a way that might have looked sweet, if his white hair and face hadn’t been spattered with blood.

  She ignored him and started searching around. She saw Stephan helping a wounded soldier and hurried over to him.

  “You know where teacher is?” she asked.

  “I saw her, the biomancer, and the assassin go into the palace, but I don’t know where they went from there.”

  “After Ammon Set, I reckon,” said Jilly. “Uter, you stay here. I’m going to—”

  “They’re coming!” A lacy tom up on top of the outer wall shouted down to them. “The Guardian is gone, and two ships made it through!”

  “Piss’ell,” muttered Jilly. “Uter, stay with Stephan.”

  “But—”

  “Do it!”

  “Okay, Jilly, you don’t need to shout.”

  Jilly climbed up the ladder to the lacy. He was looking out at the city, a worried frown on his face, and with good reason. Two naval ships had reached the inner docks. Now there were two battalions of imps marching up the main street toward the palace.

  “Can we get the gate closed again, Your Highness?” asked a dark-skinned lacy molly with an accent next to him.

  Apparently the lacy tom was a prince.

  “I think they had to break the gate lock to let the Vinchen through in time,” he said.

  “Don’t worry, Princey,” Jilly told him, patting his arm. “I’ve got it under control.”

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Only your lucky break, old pot,” she told him. “But you can call me Jilly.”

  “She’s like a tiny Lord Pastinas,” said the dark-skinned molly.

  “You’re talking about Red, aren’t you?” asked Jilly. “Just so happens, I learned from the best.”

  “Well, Jilly,” said the prince, “I’m not sure what you have in mind. My soldiers are exhausted and out of ammunition. And while the Vinchen are fearsome warriors, I don’t think even they can face two battalions of fresh troops alone.”

  “Like I said, don’t worry about it.” She turned back to the ladder, then stopped and looked at him over her shoulder in a very pat way. “Oh, and don’t go all wobbly if you see some things that ain’t exactly … natural.”

  The prince’s eyes went wide. “You mean more so than what I’ve already seen?”

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet, Princey,” she assured him.

  She slid down the ladder and hurried back to where Uter waited dutifully next to Stephan and the wounded soldier.

  “You know you’re my best wag, right?” she told the boy, squeezing his shoulders.

  “I am?” he asked, wide-eyed.

  “A’course you are! And that’s why I believe you are going to save the day.”

  “Really? Me?”

  She nodded. “It’s time for you to do what you do best.”

  “What’s that?” he asked eagerly.

  She gestured to the dead monsters that lay scattered around the courtyard.

  “Make some new friends.”

  Hope had told Stephan that the strange little boy Uter had been the product of the Jackal Lords and their necromancy. He knew that the boy could supposedly raise the dead, at least for a short time, with just a drop of his blood. But he’d never seen it before. And of all the things he’d seen
since leaving Galemoor, witnessing the boy raise a small army of monsters to do his bidding was the most chilling.

  “I’m not sure how this is going to work,” he admitted to Ravento as they watched the boy hop from one monstrous corpse to the next. “But we have to repel these soldiers and protect the prince by any means necessary.”

  Ravento smiled wryly. “By now, I think we’ve learned the important lesson of flexibility well enough to adapt to just about anything. Even fighting alongside monsters risen from the dead.”

  “You say that now …,” said Stephan.

  They watched in sick fascination as the monsters slowly began dragging themselves back up onto their feet.

  “I didn’t say I was going to feel comfortable with it,” said Ravento.

  “I suppose we don’t need to,” Stephan said grimly. “Let’s go. If we can hit them in the street before they reach the palace, that will minimize the risk to the prince.”

  Ravento nodded.

  “I’ll see if I can help Uter formulate something that resembles a strategy,” said Stephan. “You get the rest of the brothers ready.”

  Merivale spent a few minutes holding the Black Rose’s hand, even after she had passed out. She had plans for this woman. This new, strong ally had to survive.

  “Well?” she asked Etcher.

  “As long as she gets the proper treatment, and there’s no infection, she’ll be fine,” said Etcher.

  Merivale nodded. “I need to go check on the prince. Will you stay with her? She’s done a great deal for all of us.”

  “Of course,” said Etcher.

  Merivale climbed back up to the top of the gate. That was when she saw the mass of imperial soldiers marching up the street toward the palace.

  “My God, why didn’t I know about this?”

  “I shouted down to you,” said Leston. “But I think you were in the midst of helping the Black Rose through her amputation. Understandably, you didn’t hear me, and I thought it best not to—”