by A. J. Smith
“Another hour, and we’ll reach the Mirralite coast,” said the captain, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
“This ship is fast,” I said, studying the lines of Halfdan’s Revenge and the skill of her crew. “Will my father miss you?”
Driftwood scratched at his forked red beard, and turned to face me, standing unaided on the rolling quarterdeck. “The Battle Brand, alas, does not confide in a simple ship captain.” He came to the port railing, and looked up at his sails.
“But there’s a reason he sent you specifically,” I queried. “Other than the speed of your ship.”
He didn’t like me prying. His face wore complicated lines, showing a man who fought to contain things he knew and things he’d seen.
“You could tell me,” I continued. “If you think I should know. Unless you have something else to do before you drop me off?”
“There’s an island called Karcosa,” said Driftwood, locking eyes with me. “The Tassalite call it Lost Karcosa, or sometimes the Disappeared Land. It’s south of Last Port. We sailed past it every few months on patrol. Nothing much there, just hills, and these strange stone cairns the Pure Ones build. We went ashore a time or two, for water or just to feel solid ground. There’s a massive reef off the coast, and the crew used to like fishing for these brightly coloured fish they have there. No good for eating, but it was a nice bit of sport. Who can catch the strangest looking fish.” His eyes turned away from me, and fixed on the slowly tumbling waves of the Red Straits.
I tried to show sympathy for a man in obvious distress, but I couldn’t find the right way to stand, or the right things to say, so I just at looked at Driftwood, waiting for him to continue.
“Must have been two months ago, the last time we stopped there. Things were different. The tides were far higher than they should have been, and the sea spirits had disappeared. We got becalmed… almost ran aground. I’ve been reading the tides and the winds for thirty years, and I’ve never been caught like that. We were stuck there for days, just off the coast, by the reef.”
“What did you see?” I asked.
“We thought it was an underwater quake at first. You get them down there sometimes. Bubbles appear on the surface, then small rogue waves, sometimes a waterspout or two. Nothing to worry a big ship, but this wasn’t a quake. The fucking reef started to move. We couldn’t go anywhere so we just watched. Two hundred sailors, looking to port, as the whole bloody thing slowly rose out of the water.”
My eyes widened.
“It was really gradual at first,” said Driftwood. “Looked like… a line of spikes coming out of the sea. Coral and seaweed, all knitted together. We didn’t really know what we were seeing, until me and Kieran went ashore to get a better look. We knew the island to be deserted, but now… a few hundred Pure Ones, all naked and chanting, like they do. But they were chanting around the carcass of a huge Sunken Man, like it had washed up on the shore. Spiky and grey, with sickly white patches.”
“And the reef?”
“It wasn’t a reef,” he replied. “Or maybe it was. But it wasn’t just a reef. And the island wasn’t just an island. The Pure Ones were chanting that Lost Karcosa was rising. It was part of something… some kind of… city. An underwater city. No brick or wood, just jagged coral, seaweed and stones, all at fucked-up angles. By the time we got back to the boat, it was taller that the mainmast, and depth barges had launched from holes in the reef.”
“How did you get away?”
He shook his head, absently playing with his forked beard. “They didn’t attack us,” he replied. “In fact, they ignored us. A few of the Pure Ones had a go, but there must have been a hundred Sunken Men on those barges, and they just… went underwater and disappeared. None of us had ever seen a living one, and they got within twenty feet of us.” He coughed, and noisily spat over the port railing, frowning to himself. “Like a giant frog fucked a spiny fish, but they didn’t even look at us. A handful of my lads went funny before we got back to Last Port. A couple hung themselves, and one lad threw himself from the crow’s nest. The rest of us came to terms with it on the journey here. That’s why your father sent us. It was supposed to be a fucking rest.”
Tynian Driftwood turned his shoulder to me, leaning against the railing. He tugged on a rope and again looked up at his dark blue sails. He turned amidships and shouted to a sailor, loitering by the helm. “Slow it down. Sound general quarters.” He turned back to me. “We’ll anchor up ahead, Mistress Brand,” he said, with a shallow bow of his head. “And Kieran’s going with you to meet this Dark Wing. You say he’s a Sea Wolf duellist, but that don’t mean I trust him. You’re important. You need more than a rat to keep an eye on you.”
“If we’re not back in four hours, attack the Bay of Bliss without us,” I replied. “The High Captain is aboard the Never, with Jonas Grief. They’re in charge.” I faced him, adjusting my leather armour, and making sure my hair was securely tied in a topknot. “But only you and I have seen the Sunken Men, so keep your fucking wits about you, captain. We need this victory.”
*
The Coast of Tranquillity ended where the cliffs became rocky beaches. Beyond, the coast had no specific name, but was part of the Mirralite Reservation. Halfdan’s Revenge was a lone ship, with its black hull and serrated battering ram pointing west, towards the Bay of Bliss. Several hours behind us were ten warships, with a small army of Sea Wolves and Kneeling Wolves, preparing for a fight.
Dark Wing’s bone palace was on the way, and would barely delay our arrival at the Temple of Dagon. As mad as the old duellist was, I trusted that he had something important to show me. He, more than anyone, appeared to hold some hidden knowledge of the Sunken God. He’d been killing Pure Ones longer than I’d been alive, and had learned much about their darker inclinations, including a willingness to prostrate themselves before the eldritch horrors of the sea.
Once the Revenge was anchored, Kieran Greenfire, Tasha and I took a small rowboat to the rocky coast. One of the few advantages of only having one arm, was that no one suggested I help with the rowing, though the quartermaster seemed adequate to the task. We pulled the boat out of the shallows, and made our way inland, over a low rise, and towards an irregular landscape of brambles and jutting formations of rock. We were heading deep into the Mirralite Reservation, just a few hours south of the Bay of Bliss.
“Do you know how to get to his bone palace from here?” queried Tasha.
“Half an hour south-west,” I replied. “There’s a dead forest and a dry river bed. We’ll hear the dogs first.”
“You’ve said that twice,” added Kieran. “Bone palace. What does it mean?”
Tasha and I looked at each other, both remembering the macabre home that Dark Wing had made for himself. “He’s killed a lot of Pure Ones,” I replied, “and he doesn’t let their remains go to waste.”
Any response he had was cut off by the sudden barking of a single dog. We all looked to the west, and saw a Yishian Mastiff bounding towards us. It was a large animal, with a brindle coat and pronounced jowls, though there were two patches of deep red across its flanks. Kieran drew his cutlass, though I waved him back as the dog approached. It continued barking, but slowed down and began to wag its stumpy tail.
“Hello, boy,” I said, crouching down and allowing the dog to barrel into me. “What happened to you?” I ran my hand along the animal’s muscular body, and it came away stained with blood. I could feel two deep cuts along its left side. The dog murmured in pain, licking at my face and almost toppling me over backwards.
“Are those claw marks?” asked Kieran, sheathing his sword.
Tasha helped me with the distressed dog and frowned, inspecting the wounds. After a moment, she plucked something from the mess of blood, causing a feeble yelp from the dog. She wiped blood from the small object and showed me. It looked like a bloody spike, until she fanned it out, showing the cruel barbs of a spiny fin. Each of a dozen small spines was a lurid green colour, connect
ed with a flexible membrane, like an organic saw blade.
“That’s a big fish,” said Kieran. “Or something else...”
The dog barked again and bounded away, before spinning in a circle and bounding back. “Alright, let’s follow him,” I decided. “Eyes sharp. Dark Wing is in trouble.”
The mastiff gave a final, concluding bark, and loped across the rugged landscape, with the three of us running after him. His tail still wagged, as if glad he’d found us, and he looked back often, making sure we followed. I had no difficulty keeping pace with the dog, but Tasha quickly dropped back, followed after a few minutes by Kieran. By the time the smell of the ocean had disappeared, we were well spread out, running between rocks and skeletal trees. Then the dog slowed, and its tail no longer wagged. After twenty or so minutes of running, he reached the dry river bed – the border of Dark Wing’s forest – and stopped.
When I caught up with him, I gasped. The strange forest was broken. The bone-white trees were mangled together at odd angles, as if uprooted, and the dark brown mulch of the forest floor was cracked into a lattice of narrow fissures, like an earthquake had shaken the ground. The dog whined, nuzzling against my leg.
Kieran and Tasha joined me after a few minutes, but neither said anything. There was an ominous silence, almost like an invisible wall in front of us, and an acrid smell, drifting over the broken landscape.
“I can hear you both breathing,” I said, when the silence became unbearable.
“It wasn’t like this before,” said Tasha, in a low murmur. “Not just the trees and the cracks in the ground… The air tastes funny… Like ash and rotten fish.”
“Dark Wing wanted me to see something,” I replied, striding into the broken forest. My hackles began to rise, as if the Old Bitch of the Sea was growling in my head. Something was different, and it was unwelcome. A rising threat, or an age-old fear… I couldn’t be sure which, just that the wolf was agitated. The spirit wasn’t a pup any more, and its power was like a cloak, drawn tightly across my shoulders.
“Adeline, wait!” said Tasha, breathing heavily. “We’ve been running… Can we rest here for a bit?”
“Stay there if you want,” I replied, focusing on the broken ground before me. “Something is wrong here.”
I drew my cutlass and marched forwards, over crumbling earth and past white trees, towards the bone palace. I could hear the other two, slowly pulling themselves together and following. Within a few dozen large strides, I could see smashed sections of bone, strewn across the fractured forest floor. There were nails and coiled, black wire across the bone fragments, indicating that Dark Wing’s home had been attacked. The macabre palace had been the work of decades, but as I moved deeper into the forest, I saw that something had likely smashed the entire structure. A roof section, a thick carpet, a mangled cooking pot… but no blood or bodies.
The Yishian Mastiff caught up with me, but it stayed in my shadow, as if wanting protection. My left eye began to twitch, and I felt the Old Bitch of the Sea rising within me. Then the ground began to squelch under my leather boots. The fissures in the earth became wider, and water was seeping from the broken ground. The thin film of liquid released a fetid aroma.
“Ash… and rotten fish,” repeated Tasha, appearing behind me. “Something’s here.”
I kept moving, until the fissures were wide enough to snare an unwary step, and the water was up to my ankles. Large sections of the bone palace were strewn through the stagnant water, and the smell was almost overpowering. Then, through the mess of bones and trees, I saw movement.
First, a twitching red crest, then a swollen limb of mottled green flesh. As I edged closer, one piece at a time was revealed, until I saw the entire creature, and stopped. It was sitting in a pool of water, its frog-like legs crossed beneath its enormous white belly. The head was pointed, like a deep-sea fish, with a jutting lower jaw and cruel teeth. Sharp spines of bright colours covered the seams of its body, with blood and slime dripping from every spike. It was different to the other Sunken Men I’d seen, with no seashell adornments or rotten seaweed, and it seemed less aware, almost sleepy. Perhaps the sea was rising faster than anyone thought.
I closed my eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. Even with the Old Bitch of the Sea strengthening my wyrd, and hardening my mind, I could still feel fear. I opened my eyes. Kieran and Tasha had also stopped, close enough to see what it was, but too far to make out every grotesque detail. From my vantage point, I could see a handful of dead dogs, each gnawed on by the huge Sunken Man. As I looked closer, having to squint, I saw that the creature had scratch and bite marks across its body, indicating that the dogs were far from helpless. It was but a fraction of Dark Wing’s pack, but enough to make me angry. I liked dogs, and felt a certain kinship with them. Instinctively, I reached down and scratched the mastiff behind the ear, soothing the distressed animal as best I could. Then the dog barked and everything changed.
It was a sound, partly of fear, partly of anger, and ended with a sharp whimper. The dog scuttled backwards, as the Sunken Man shifted its weight and looked at us. It was three times my height and three times my width, with serrated spikes flaring across its body. Its black eyes fixed on me, and its huge mouth popped with oozing saliva. Its arms and legs appeared to unfold, revealing a gangly beast, tall as the broken trees around it, flailing forwards with little coordination.
“Adeline, run!” screamed Tasha Strong.
I backed away, keeping my eyes front, and extending my spectral limb. Behind me, I could hear hurried movements from Tasha and Kieran as the creature caused them both to panic. As afraid as I was, the wolf-spirit kept my hands from shaking, and my feet from acting on their own, even as the huge Sunken Man groped at the sodden ground in front of me. Its limbs splashed and its head lolled from side to side, as if not in complete control of its movements. Even still, it looked at me with hunger in its black eyes.
I circled to the left, glancing over my shoulder and ensuring that Tasha and Kieran were not the focus of the creature’s malign intent. They’d pulled back to a section of ruined wall, and were hiding behind interlocked bone and twisted wire. Both waved me to join them, but I found myself with little inclination to run. I couldn’t fight the creature, but perhaps I could out-think it.
The Sunken Man was trying to stand, but its long, spindly limbs wouldn’t hold its bulk, and it was forced to crawl, pulling itself through the bubbling water. Each of its movements was enough to dislodge trees, and cause the ruins of Dark Wing’s bone palace to break under its weight. As I circled quickly around it, not staying still enough for it to focus on me, I saw a twisted noose of wire, wrapped around the creature’s left ankle. A large section of the domed central chamber was anchoring it to the waterlogged earth. Its turning circle was still huge, and the wire wouldn’t hold for long, but it was unable to reach me.
I manoeuvred behind it, avoiding its flailing arms, and making it twist and turn to keep me in sight. The mastiff followed, bounding back and forth, with its continual barking adding to the creature’s confusion. Then, from the surrounding forest, came more barking. Dozens of dogs, emerging slowly through the sodden forest, were emitting a variety of growls, yaps and snarls. The huge Sunken Man reached in all directions at once, opening and closing its vile mouth, as it tried to find the source of the barking. One of its arms smashed into the water next to me, annihilating a tree, and covering the dog and I with slimy water. Another arm flopped into a broken lattice of bone, just as the wide circle of approaching dogs became visible.
“Dark Wing!” I shouted, somehow sensing the presence of the old Sea Wolf duellist. “Is this what you wanted me to see?”
The monster could hear me, and showed surprising dexterity as it flung its blubbery form in my direction, its snapping mouth landing within millimetres of my head. I struck out with my spectral arm, aiming for its eye. There was a squelch, and the huge creature recoiled, spitting slime at me as the coiled wire kept it from moving freely.
> “No,” came a rumbling reply. “This is one of a load that woke up. The big one ate most of them. This one ate a lot of my dogs.”
“How do we kill it?” I shouted back, making sure I was out of the flailing monster’s range.
“Try stabbing it,” boomed Dark Wing. I couldn’t see him, but I guessed he was circling the creature, much like me, keeping behind his perimeter of barking dogs.
I narrowed my eyes, and measured the distance to the Sunken Man. In trying to reach the mastiff and I, it had further tangled itself in wire and sections of bone, but still described a wide circle, within which it could smash me to death with a single blow. Unlike the others, my mind didn’t recoil from the spiny aberration, but still there were few possible avenues of attack. Its body was armoured in thick skin and blubber, with the only vulnerable spots on its head and face. I glanced down at my cutlass, fearing that it was little more than a toothpick against so large an enemy.
As I considered how to attack, the ring of dogs got closer, their barking and growling rising in volume, drowning out the splashing and squelching from the Sunken Man. I tried to calm my mind, and let the Old Bitch of the Sea infuse through me. I’d told Kieran that I wanted to know if we could win, and here I was, faced with the task myself. Could I kill it? Was my wyrd strong enough? Or was I as helpless as I’d once been?
My spectral limb flared, sending a crackling nimbus of blue across my body. The spirit within me was amplifying my power and my aggression, as if the wolf was pulsing with rage. Pins and needles covered my skin and I began to shake. Even if I’d wanted to back away, the Old Bitch of the Sea wouldn’t let me. She wanted to see if we could beat them as much as I did, and her instincts were far more primal. For a moment, I imagined having claws and a savage mouth full of sharp teeth. I looked again at the Sunken Man, and it suddenly didn’t look so large or so intimidating. As I slowly advanced, I felt a predatory skin envelop me. The creature’s neck came into sharp focus, as did its black eyes, and the weak points of its sinewy limbs, as if a map of how to kill it was appearing before me. The mastiff followed, and the ring of dogs closed with the monster.
