Critical Failures VI (Caverns and Creatures Book 6)

by Robert Bevan

  In front of the main mast, a machine that resembled a massive crossbow swiveled in the Maiden's Voyage's direction. One of the crewmen attached something to the tip of the similarly massive bolt. She couldn't make out what it was due to the distance and the dirty window, but it looked like some kind of bag. What good would that do? Certainly, it could only serve to dull the projectile's impact.

  Once he had secured the thing on the thing, he went around to the back of the swivel-mounted weapon, peered into a scope of some sort, and made some minute adjustments to the weapon's aim. A second later, the projectile was flying straight at Katherine. She dropped to the floor. Before she had time to fully consider that the wall was just as unlikely to protect her as the window was, her thoughts were interrupted by the crash of shattering glass, splintering wood, and the intense heat and blinding light of the other side of the room suddenly engulfed in flames.

  Katherine led Butterbean outside. “Stay here!”

  Butterbean whimpered as he lay down on the ledge outside the captain's quarters, then she went back inside to see what could be done about the fire.

  There must have been some kind of ignite-on-impact paste in the sack that guy had covered the end of the bolt with. It felt strange to refer to it as an bolt now that she could see its size. It was more like a lamp post, its front end at the epicenter of the fire near the steering wheel, having missed the main mast, and the finned back end resting on the captain's table.

  Lord Shitflinger was losing his shit, figuratively speaking, shrieking as he jumped up into the shelves lining the walls and flinging all of Captain Longfellow's accumulated junk onto the table, like he was frantically searching for something specific.

  “Stay calm!” shouted Captain Longfellow down on the main deck. “That was meant to stir us into a panic, for nothing be more frightening than a fire at sea. But remember that heat rises. If they wanted to burn the ship down, they'd have aimed for us here on the main deck. It's my cargo they seek, so they mean to board us. So fear not the fire, but be ready to fight. Now, all ye pole-stroking sperm-slurping scalawags, I ask ye, is everyone good?”

  “Aye, Captain!” the crew members shouted.

  “I said, Is everyone good?”

  “Aye, Captain!” The passengers joined the crew in responding this time.

  “I can't hear ye!”

  “AYE, CAPTAIN!” To compare it to a pep rally before a high school football game seemed to undermine the gravity of the situation, but Katherine supposed the same psychological principles applied.

  “I still can't hear ye!”

  “AYE, CAPTAIN!” They were giving it all they had. Katherine thought that Captain Longfellow might be, for lack of a better phrase, going a bit overboard. Then she had another thought. Was this meant for her? Asking if she, Butterbean, and Lord Shitflinger were okay without actually calling attention to the fact that he had her hiding in the captain's quarters?”

  “Ye all got cocksnot in yer lungs? For the last time, I said, Is everyone good?”

  “AAAYYYEE, CAAAAPTAAAAIN!!!”

  Fearing those poor bastards down there might burst their lungs even before the boat was boarded, Katherine got up on her knees, making her head visible through the broken window. Captain Longfellow was staring right at her. She gave him a thumbs up and a nod. He gave her a wink and a grin.

  “Very good, then!” said the captain. “Prepare to fight!”

  Passengers and crew alike cheered like there was nothing they wanted more than to fight for their very survival. If nothing else, Captain Longfellow's pep rally had indeed boosted morale. How much effect that would have on the upcoming fight remained to be seen.

  Black smoke thickened as more of it flowed out past Katherine, the newly broken window being the only route it had to escape the captain's quarters. The fire was spreading, and Lord Shitflinger still hadn't found whatever the hell it was that he'd been seeking. His search wasn't the most efficient, but it was surprisingly systematic for a monkey. He hopped from the left side of the room to the right, then back again, completely clearing the shelves, getting as close to the fire as he could without burning himself. What the hell was he trying to find? Maybe one of these pieces of junk could help put out the fire. Giving the shelves a cursory scan, she looked for something like a Decanter of Endless Water, but found nothing even remotely similar-looking. If only she could – Well shit, of course she could.

  Focusing her mind on Lord Shitflinger, she said “Speak.”

  The monkey ceased his frantic emptying of shelves and turned his head to look at Katherine. “What did you say?”

  “No time to explain,” said Katherine. “I want to help you.”

  Lord Shitflinger glared at her. “Then what are you waiting for? My permission?”

  “I need to know what you're looking for so I can help you find it.”

  “I'm not looking for anything, stupid half-elf! I'm trying to salvage what I can of Captain Longfellow's treasures.”

  Katherine scanned the room. Most of the shelves were obscured by smoke, but she remembered well enough the sort of pirate garage sale shit that was on them. “All of this junk?”

  “Junk?” Lord Shitflinger coughed as he picked up a pointed bronze helmet. He seemed to consider throwing it at Katherine, but tossed it down onto the table. “Each piece of what you call junk holds a memory dear to the captain from his many voyages around the world.” He started choking violently, then tossed down some dusty primitive-looking wind instrument. “Who are you *cough* to belittle *cough* what my captain holds dear?”

  There was only a finite amount of remorse Katherine would allow herself to feel when being lectured by a monkey, but she conceded he had a point.

  “Stay on that side,” she said. “I'll clear this side.” Katherine had a much easier time clearing her side. Instead of picking up one piece of old trash at a time and tossing it down onto the table, she held her Bag of Holding open with her left hand and bulldozed the contents of each shelf into it with her right arm. Once her side was done, she helped Lord Shitflinger clear his side.

  After both sides were clear, Katherine told him to put all the shit he'd tossed onto the table into the Bag of Holding in case she couldn't put out or at least contain the fire. The Speak With Animals spell had long since timed out, so she had to pantomime. But Lord Shitflinger, being a clever little monkey, seemed to catch on after watching her make a show of putting items into the bag. When he took over bag-packing duties, Katherine focused on the spreading fire.

  She needed water, and they were floating on a literal ocean of it. There must be some obvious solution she wasn't seeing. How could she get water from down there to up here?

  The smoke started to fill the room faster as the fire grew. Katherine squatted down until her face was level with the table where Lord Shitflinger was just about finished putting the last of Captain Longfellow's shit in the –

  “Bag of Holding!”

  She quickly shoved the rest of the junk into the bag while she thought of the best way to get a bunch of water into it. Although it didn't feel like the wisest option in the world, she didn't have time to think of anything better than the obvious. She'd have to go for a swim.

  Getting into the water was easy enough, but even if she tethered herself to the boat with a rope, it was going to be a challenge to climb – Oh wait, no it wasn't.

  Katherine put her finger to her temple. “Spiderbitch.” She felt a discharge of magic but didn't feel any sudden inclination to fight crime or shit rope. Had it worked?

  She placed her hands on the wall and attempted to pull herself up. The change was a little stomach-turning. It felt like the force of gravity had shifted, exclusively for her, toward the wall she was focused on. She could crawl up it as if the whole ship had turned on its side.

  “Fucking awesome!”

  Unfortunately, gravity was still working normally for the air around her, which was denser with smoke the further she climbed up the wall. Holding her breath and c
losing her eyes, she made it to the ceiling, and was delighted to find that she could just as effortlessly crawl upside down.

  Feeling her way out the window, she climbed out onto the roof of the captain's quarters, where she was able to see and breathe again.

  The black boat was now within normal crossbow range, and sailors on both ships were taking random potshots at each other.

  Katherine didn't bother with ladders as she climbed down the tiers of the central cabin structure. With everyone concentrated on the left side of the Maiden's Voyage, where the other boat was approaching, she was able to remain unseen as she hopped over the rail on the right side and attached herself to the side of the boat's hull.

  Spiderbitch or not, the force of the water could easily sweep her off the boat if she didn't have something sturdy to hold on to. The hull was pretty smooth, and slick with ocean spray. It wouldn't take a whole lot of force to send her out to sea. She considered crawling to the front of the boat, letting the force of the water press her back to the hull, but dismissed that idea almost instantly. She'd only be swept underneath, perhaps getting knocked unconscious in the process. Instead, she headed for the rear of the boat, hoping that she'd be able to grab onto the rudder or something.

  Even better, there were two ladders running up the rear. Katherine grabbed a rung tightly with her left hand, and held the Bag of Holding open even more tightly with her teeth and her right hand, letting the movement of the boat force water into it.

  A sudden burning pain in her right ass cheek nearly caused her to let go of both the ladder and the bag, but she held on.

  “Yeeeoooow!” she cried, freeing the bag from her teeth's grip. She turned around and spotted two sailors on the black boat laughing and pointing down at her. Fucking assholes. One of them wore striped green and white pants and was holding a crossbow, the missing projectile of which was likely sticking out of her ass, and the other had a bushy red beard. Satisfied that the Bag of Holding had a sufficient supply of water and that she'd recognize these two shitheads if she saw them again, she scrambled back to the right side of the boat and up to the main deck.

  After double-checking to make sure she was out of anyone's crossbow site, and still out of view to anyone aboard the Maiden's Voyage she grabbed hold of the railing, shut her eyes tight, and plucked the bolt out of her ass.

  It was a minor wound, and she'd have a hole in the ass of her jeans with a bloodstain running down from it, but she'd survive.

  Ignoring her ass soreness, she continued crawling up the side of the boat until she found Butterbean and Lord Shitflinger on the narrow ledge separating the captain's quarters from the tier below it. The inside was filled with thick black smoke, so much so that Katherine couldn't even see the flames anymore.

  She reached into the Bag of Holding for something she could use to break the other windows. If she could get more smoke flowing out, she might not have to work without being able to see or breathe.

  “Spyglass,” she said. Of all Captain Longfellow's junk she had scooped into the bag, that was the most clublike item that she could recall.

  When she felt it in her hand, she pulled it out and struck a window with it. The window cracked, but didn't shatter. Thankfully, the spyglass did neither. For two hollow wooden tubes, it was a surprisingly sturdy instrument. Rather than swing with her next strike, she attacked the window with the eyepiece of the spyglass, wielding it more like an ice pick than a club. That connected much more solidly, obliterating the window, and allowing another plume of dark smoke to shoot out sideways.

  After destroying three more windows on the right side of the captain's quarters, Katherine could finally see the flames. They had spread further along the interior walls but not by much, and they hadn't yet eaten through to the outside. Captain Longfellow might not actually have to completely rebuild his top tier.

  As Katherine prepared to douse the fire with the water she'd collected in her Bag of Holding, she considered the issue of delivery. If she just let the water out of the bag, it would dump out at her feet, and the heat was too intense for her to get close enough to the fire to be effective. But she hadn't taken a bolt in the ass to give up now.

  Come on, Katherine. Think! She remembered her black friend and his knack for improvisation. What would Tanner do? And lo and behold. There was the answer, right in her hand.

  She unscrewed the eyepiece and the lens on the far end and carefully put both into the Bag of Holding, just in case what she was about to do left the spyglass tube still intact. She then bunched the mouth of the bag around the larger of the two spyglass tubes, but left enough room for her to be able to poke in a single finger.

  Katherine didn't know a lot about water pressure or magical bags. She didn't know the rate at which the water would flow out, whether or not that depended on the total amount of water being summoned at one time, or exactly how much pressure she'd need to get a good enough propulsion without shooting herself backwards through the wall like Daffy Duck. She'd start with a low amount and test it from there.

  Dipping a finger into the bag, she said, “Ten gallons of water.” Then she quickly pulled her finger out and wound the drawstring tight around the bunched-up mouth. Casual vomiting was the best way she could think of to describe how the water gurgled out of the narrow end of the spyglass. She wouldn't be putting out any fires like that.

  But thus was the nature of experimentation. From what she'd observed, she guessed she could safely take it up a few notches.

  She loosened the drawstring around the mouth of the bag, and re-inserted her finger. “Fifty gallons of water.”

  She sensed the coming blast and didn't bother with the drawstring. Instead, she bunched the bag around the end of the spyglass as tightly as she could with both hands.

  Water gushed out a little more powerfully, allowing Katherine to move forward and douse some flames, cutting off the ground the fire had been gaining. Shortly after the initial gush started, it slowed down to a weak trickle, and she determined she still hadn't gotten anywhere close to dangerous levels yet.

  “One hundred gallons of water!” The water flowed out a little more strongly, and the stream lasted about twice as long, allowing Katherine to drown out a considerable section of the fire. Even the smoke was beginning to thin out. And still, Katherine didn't feel the slightest threat of being propelled backwards.

  “Five hundred gallons of water!”

  The next thing she knew, Katherine's back slammed against the rear wall of the captain's quarters, and the front windows shattered like she'd hit them with a full magazine from an assault rifle. Thankful to have been spared the injury and embarrassment of flying through the wall, she concentrated her makeshift fire hose on what remained of the fire, drowning it and leaving the captain's quarters charred, smokey, and sopping wet, but ultimately intact. Hell, she'd even managed to spare the windows on the left side of –

  CRASH CRASH CRASH CRASH

  All of the windows on the left side of the captain's quarters exploded in rapid succession as large steel projectiles burst through them from outside. They thunked on the floor, then receded by the cords they were attached to, catching the window sills with their sharp barbs.

  Grappling hooks! The sailors from the other ship were beginning to board the Maiden's Voyage.

  As she peered out the window, Katherine tried to remember whether or not she had a dagger to cut the ropes with. It didn't matter. The sailors whom these ropes belonged to had already swung aboard and were clashing their large curved blade swords against the far less flashy version Captain Longfellow had issued to his passengers.

  Most of the carnage was concentrated on the rear deck, where the crewmen of the Nightwind – Katherine could now make out the enemy boat's name engraved on the front of its black hull – were ferociously cutting down the Maiden's Voyage's passengers. The swords Captain Longfellow's crew had issued them might as well have been big rubber dicks for all the use they were getting out of them.

  Not that Kath
erine had any room to judge them. Incompetent or not, at least they weren't hiding from the fight. If she were still a vampire, this fight would have already been over, and she would be chumming the waters with these dumb motherfuckers.

  Squinting in the sunlight, she reflected that her assessment of that hypothetical fight was incorrect; she would have been in the Bag of Holding, even more useless than she was right now.

  Captain Longfellow himself fought like a badass, and his crewmen could hold their own pretty well. Katherine wasn't able to spot Denise, but Randy was proving himself to be a far more competent fighter than Katherine ever imagined he could be. Still, the tide of battle was clearly not going their way.

  The deck was painted with blood, occasionally dotted with severed arms and dropped swords. Katherine would have picked up a sword and jumped into the fray, but they slid off the deck almost as soon as they were dropped. She could see Captain Longfellow's objection to her scythe. There simply wasn't enough room to swing it on the crowded deck. She'd just be a nuisance to all those people trying to kill each other. That left her the options of trying to clobber people with a spyglass or trying to pull a Bag of Holding down over their heads, neither of which seemed like a productive enough use of her effort to risk almost certain death for.

  While she wondered what kind of effect a sudden barrage of dire rat corpses might have, a horn sounded from Nightwind's deck. It blasted loud over the grunts, screams, and clashing of swords, blowing long and evenly for a full ten seconds. By the time it stopped, so had most of the fighting. The entire crew of Nightwind stood at attention, as did Captain Longfellow and his crewmen. A few passengers who were either unaware of horn-blowing protocols or just trying to get in a cheap shot were quickly subdued with punches in the face from the crews of both ships.