“How deep’s that?” Spurral asked.
“Getting on for fifty fathoms,” Kalgeck replied. “No danger to us there.”
The ship crept on as the sun made its lazy way across the azure sky. Measurements were taken at regular intervals, but showed practically no variation.
Spurral grew more impatient at the sluggish progress. “Are we ever going to get to this shallow patch, Kalgeck?”
“According to the chart, we’re already in it.”
“Somebody should tell the sea.”
“These maps aren’t always exact. Least, that’s what the Gatherers say.”
“Well, I hope we’re going to see some —”
There were shouts from the measuring team.
“Now what?” Kalgeck wondered.
“Let’s see,” Spurral said, heading for the ladder that led to the deck.
When they reached the measurers, one of the dwarfs held up the end of the rope. It was severed and the weight was gone.
“What did it?” Spurral asked.
“Don’t know,” the young dwarf with the rope told her. “But whatever it was happened at about twelve fathoms.”
Kalgeck examined the rope. “Looks like it was cut, or…”
“Or what?” Spurral said.
“It probably just got caught on something down there.”
“So let’s try again.”
They brought another coil of knotted rope and fitted a new weight. It was fed overboard, and a dwarf was set the task of calling its progress.
“One fathom… two…”
“This should sort it out,” Kalgeck offered.
“Yeah, most likely,” Spurral replied, though there was a jot of uncertainty in her voice.
“… Four fathoms… five… six…”
“I expect it’s just a fluke.”
“Hmm.”
“… Eleven… twelve… thirteen…”
“Seems it’s all right this time,” Kalgeck announced.
“… Fourteen… fifteen…”
“Good. Now maybe we can get on and —”
The line suddenly went taut. Then it began playing out at a rapid rate. The end of it would have disappeared over the side if several dwarfs hadn’t grabbed hold of it.
But they struggled, and the rope was sliding painfully through their hands. Kalgeck, Spurral and the others joined in, and still they fought to keep a grip.
“We’re going to lose it!” Spurral warned.
“It must be snagged,” Kalgeck reckoned.
“Then why’s it moving about so much?”
The rope was going from left to right, then back again, and it was twisting in their hands. Kalgeck called for help. Three dwarfs ran to them and seized the rope. Now there were no less than nine of them clutching the line, but the bizarre tug-of-war went on.
It ended abruptly. Without warning, the line went slack. The release was so sudden it put them all on their backs. Scrambling to their feet, they quickly hauled the rope in. This time there was no resistance. Again, it had been severed.
“What the hell’s going on?” Spurral said.
Kalgeck was blowing on his reddened palms. “Maybe it got caught on a sunken wreck.”
“That’s moving about?”
“The currents that deep can be strong. Maybe it —”
A weighty thump echoed through the ship. It originated somewhere far below. A second later there was another impact, louder and more powerful. The ship bobbed, tilting the deck and making the dwarfs’ footing unsure.
Someone yelled and pointed. No more than an arrow’s flight away a large segment of sea bubbled and boiled. The churning water was white with foam.
“What the hell is that?” Spurral exclaimed.
One of the Gatherer prisoners, working on some tedious chore nearby, had abandoned it and come to the rail. He stared at the seething mass of water with a fearful expression.
“Do you know what it is?” Spurral asked him.
He nodded, but seemed unable to speak.
“Well?” she insisted.
He whispered, “The Krake.”
“What’s that?”
The human gave no answer. She looked at the others. Kalgeck had gone pale, and the other dwarfs in earshot looked just as drained of colour.
“Kalgeck?” she appealed. “Kalgeck!”
He tore his eyes from the restless water. “We’ve heard the stories. The Krake are lords of the deep. Some say they’re gods. They can crush any size of ship, or pull it down into the abyss.”
“To do that they’d have to be… gigantic.”
“Bigger than islands, they say.”
“But you’ve never actually seen these things yourself?”
“Not… until now.” He was staring over her shoulder.
She turned.
Something was rising from the angry water. At first, with spray and mist obscuring the view, it was hard to make out what it was. As it continued to rise it became clearer.
It was an appendage, a tentacle with the girth of a temple pillar. Like a blind cave worm it was greyish-white, and its gristly skin was dappled with thick blue veins. Soon it had risen to the height of the ship, and was still growing.
Another tentacle erupted from the water, much closer to the vessel; near enough to rock it and send a wave over the rail. Soaked and dazed, the dwarfs retreated.
Shouts and screams had them turning to the opposite rail. On that side, too, tentacles were rising. The dwarfs stood transfixed as more and more emerged. In minutes the tentacles, swaying grotesquely, stood taller than the mainmast. All around the ship the water frothed wildly.
One of the tentacles came down, striking the deck a tremendous, sodden blow. Another swept in horizontally, demolishing the rail and causing dozens to duck. When a third crashed into the bridge, the dwarfs snapped out of their stupor.
They set about attacking the odious limbs with cutlasses and axes. The rubbery flesh proved resilient. Blows glanced off, and only continuous hacking made any impression. When blades did break through to tissue they released copious amounts of a glutinous ochre-coloured liquid. Its disgusting stink had them reeling.
The tentacles weren’t just causing damage to the ship. Somehow sensing the dwarfs and humans, they slithered at remarkable speed to entwine any they could catch. Screaming victims were hoisted into the air and over the side.
Encircled by a muscular tentacle, the mainmast snapped like matchwood and toppled, pinning dwarfs and humans alike. So dire was the situation that even the Gatherers joined the effort to repel the Krake. They were using improvised weapons, or snatching up swords and axes dropped by dwarfs who had been taken. In the face of disaster the slavers and their one-time captives made common cause. Not that it made much difference.
“This is hopeless!” Spurral yelled as she battered at a writhing tentacle.
“We’ll have to abandon ship!” Kalgeck returned. He was smothered in the foul-smelling yellowish-brown life fluid.
“I wouldn’t give much for our chances on the open sea!”
“What, then?”
“Just keep fighting!”
A bellowing human was dragged past, a tentacle wrapped around his legs. Spurral and Kalgeck tried to hack him free, but their blades made practically no headway. The unfortunate Gatherer was whipped over the rail and disappeared.
Ominous creaking and rending sounds came from the ship’s bowels. Above deck, tentacles ripped through timber as though it were parchment. Planks buckled, the remaining masts shuddered, canvas fell.
The ship lurched violently. Then it began to descend.
“We’re going down!” Kalgeck shouted.
Water began pouring over the rails and swamping the deck. It was ankle-deep in seconds, then knee- and quickly waist-high. Panic broke out.
Spurral felt as much as heard the hull crushing. Dwarfs and humans were swept overboard. She looked around for Kalgeck and saw him being carried over the rail by a torrent of water.
> There was a dizzying drop as what remained of the ship was pulled beneath the waves.
Spurral was immersed. Underwater, all was chaos. The sinking craft, shedding fragments. A jumble of barrels, chests, ropes, scraps of sail, struggling bodies, twisting tentacles.
Just briefly she glimpsed animate forms, deathly white and grotesque in appearance. They were of enormous bulk, and their repugnant flesh pulsated horribly. She saw gaping, cavernous mouths lined with fangs the size of broadswords. And she caught sight of a single massive eye, unblinking and afire with greedy malevolence.
Then, mercifully, total darkness closed in on her.
22
Once the ship they had set on fire was out of sight, the Wolverines inspected their second craft. According to Pepperdyne, the only one with any real knowledge of boats, the damage was worse than he had first thought.
“That magic beam punched through the hull in a couple of places,” he explained. “Kind of sprinkled it. Look, you can just see the burn marks around the holes.”
Stryke leaned and nodded. “And?”
“It left us with a number of leaks. Small and slow, but a nuisance. We can patch them up, and get somebody bailing.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know how much the timbers might have been weakened by the hit. It could get worse, and we don’t have what we need for a major repair.”
“What can we do?”
“Stop at the next island we come to and hope it’s got trees.”
“We’d have to change course. That’d slow us.”
“We’ll slow a damn sight more if we sink. Where is the nearest island?”
Stryke took out the chart and unfolded it. “There,” he said, jabbing at a spot.
“I’m not sure if this boat would make that.”
“Great,” Stryke sighed. “Any ideas?”
“When this sort of thing happened back in Trougath we’d lash the boats together.”
“If this one sinks won’t it take both boats down?”
“You have to look at it the other way round. The buoyancy of the good one keeps them both afloat. It’s not ideal, Stryke, but it should get us there. Though joining the boats will slow down our speed, of course, and it’ll steer like a cow.”
“With that Pelli Madayar after us, this isn’t a good time to fetter ourselves.”
Pepperdyne shrugged. “Only other thing I can come up with is abandoning this boat and squeezing everybody into the good one. Mind you, that would slow us down a lot too. Not to mention things would be kind of crowded.”
Stryke considered it. “No, we won’t do that. It’d cramp our style too much if we have to fight. Take as much help as you need and see to the lashing. But do it fast; I feel like a sitting target.”
“Right. Jup’ll have to be told about the delay.”
“I know, and he’s not going to like it. You get on here. I’ll tell him.”
The boats were already linked by a couple of lengths of rope. And they were near enough to each other that Stryke could easily step over.
Jup was at the prow of boat one as usual. He was leaning over the side and stretching his arm to get his hand in the water.
“What are you doing?” Stryke asked.
Jup straightened and wiped his wet hand against his breeches. If anything, the sombre expression he’d worn since they set out was more intense. “I was trying farsight.”
“I thought this much water stopped it working.”
“It does, mostly. I’m… I wanted to do something, you know?”
Stryke nodded.
“And I picked something up,” the dwarf added.
“You did?”
“A life force. Or maybe a whole lot of them clustered together. Really massive. Big enough to counter a lot of the water’s masking effect.”
“Any idea what it is?”
“No. But it’s got an… atmosphere that I don’t like. Definitely didn’t feel friendly.”
“How far away?”
“Hard to say. The amount of energy it threw out, it could be a long way off. But my guess is that it isn’t too far.”
“Is it a threat?”
“Who knows? But like I said, it didn’t come over as pleasant.”
“We’ll be on our guard.” He considered his sergeant. “There’s nothing to say it’s anything to do with Spurral.”
“No. Not directly. But knowing she’s out there with… whatever isn’t a good feeling.”
“We’ve got to detour, Jup.”
“What? Why?”
“Pepperdyne says the other boat might sink if we don’t find an island and fix it.”
“Shit.” He looked over at boat two. Pepperdyne and several Wolverines were starting work. “What’re they doing?”
“Lashing the boats together.”
“Doesn’t that mean if one sinks —”
“I thought that. Pepperdyne says no.”
“Damn it, Stryke —first that elf tries to fry us and now this. Am I ever going to get to Spurral?”
“I’ll make it as quick as I can. We’ll be working all out.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“Meantime, you keep doing whatever it is you do with the farsight. We could use a warning if what you picked up comes our way.”
“Sure. But if what I sensed comes our way a warning’s not going to help much.”
It didn’t take long to get the boats secured and plot a new course. The two-boat behemoth they created was ungainly and difficult to manoeuvre, but Pepperdyne maintained it would get them to land.
After a faltering start, because of how cumbersome the vessel had become, they got the hang of handling it. They rowed hard, and there was enough of a prevailing wind to make it worth raising the small sails.
Those who weren’t on rowing duty speculated on the mystery of Pelli Madayar’s group. Some looked forward to tangling with the Gatherers by recounting previous battles, as orcs were wont to do, and garnished their tales with some light boasting.
A few concentrated on sharpening their weapons. Jup stayed at the prow, looking grim and occasionally dipping his hand in the water. Standeven continued to occupy his lonely place at the stern. He seemed restless, and Pepperdyne, too busy to spend time with him, nevertheless noticed that his one-time master’s eyes were rarely off Stryke.
They quickly fell back into toiling at the oars combined with breaks for rest and bluster. A couple of hours into this routine, with the Sun well past its highest point, a lull developed. Wheam tried filling it.
He stood and cleared his throat. No one paid any attention. He cleared his throat again, louder and theatrically. Two or three heads turned but most ignored him.
“Comrades!” he declared. “Shipmates!”
Haskeer groaned.
“It occurred to me,” Wheam said, “that this could be the perfect time to give you all the first taste of the epic ballad I’ve been composing.” He pointed a proud finger at his temple. “In my head.”
“You haven’t got your lute,” Coilla reminded him desperately.
“It doesn’t matter. All good verse should be as powerful whether spoken or sung.”
“How powerful is it if you keep it to yourself?” Haskeer said.
Wheam ploughed on. “This particular extract is about what we’re doing right now. It goes,
They were cast upon the briny deep
For their solemn oath they would keep
To rescue a lost comrade true
From the sea so very blue!
Ooohh they battled magic mean and nasty
And their victory was proud and tar-sty
“That should be tasty. I need to work on something else that rhythms with nasty.”
“End my life,” Coilla pleaded. “Now.”
“Tasty?” Haskeer murmured, baffled.
“We could throw him overboard,” Stryke said with no trace of humour.
“Anyway,” Wheam continued, “the next bit is a k
ind of chorus. Feel free to join in.
They fought the elf
They fought the witch
One was a pest
The other a bitch!
Raise your flagons
Raise your trumpets
The Wolverines
Are no dunces!
“Things get really gripping now. In the next thirty verses —”
“Land ahoy!”
It could have been a lie. A frantic attempt by a tormented grunt to ease the pain. No one cared.
In reality, land was in sight. The dark, bumpy outline of an island could be seen on the horizon.
Haskeer raised his eyes heavenward and muttered, “Thank you, gods.”
“How we going to handle this, Stryke?” Coilla wanted to know. “If it’s inhabited, that is.”
“Choices?”
“The usual. Sneak, full frontal or parley.”
“Nothing special in mind?”
“Not knowing what the hell we’ll face, no.”
“We’ll try parley. After scouting the lay, of course.”
“’Course.”
“If it’s inhabited and they’re hostile,” Dallog said, “what then?”
“Friend or foe, we’ll get what we need,” Stryke vowed. “We’ve no time to waste.”
When they got nearer and the island’s features became clear, the saw that several ships were anchored in its largest bay.
“So it is inhabited,” Coilla said. “Or at least somebody’s visiting.”
“I’d say there’s a settlement,” Stryke reckoned. “Look. Just by the tree line there. Those are some sort of buildings, aren’t they?”
She squinted. “Yes, I think they are.”
“Then we’ll circle from a distance and see if there’s somewhere quiet we can land.” He turned and shouted, “Get those sails down, now! We don’t need spotting!”
When they got round to the island’s far side they could see no signs of habitation. They headed for a small, deserted cove, and managed to land on its sandy beach. Stryke ordered the twin boats to be hauled ashore and into the trees, then had them camouflaged. Four privates, including Wheam, were assigned to guard the boats. Standeven was told to stay too, though he uncharacteristically tried to object. Stryke led the rest of the band into the interior.
“Why are we going inland anyway?” Jup asked. “Don’t we have what we need where we landed?”
ORCS: Army of Shadows Page 20
