The Sword Falls

by A. J. Smith

  I stood. There was a quiet compliance from the captain of Halfdan’s Revenge. Whether he liked me or not, I sensed that he planned to see this through to whatever end awaited the few remaining Sea Wolves. Despite his grief, his eyes sparkled, almost as if a huge weight had gone from his shoulders, and there was a boyish look on his face.

  “Follow me,” I said, confidently.

  Outside the captain’s cabin, the warship was filled with sailors. Most were quietly going about their work, readying the ship to make way, but a substantial portion were simply waiting for the captain and I. They pretended they had duties that required them to be below deck, but their deception became obvious when we emerged. They stopped loitering and began whispering, until a sharp command from the blonde bosun elicited a swift silence. Anyone who wasn’t where they were supposed to be was quickly dispersed, mostly to the ballistae decks where, with the supervision of Daniel Doesn’t Die, black dust was being added to the ship’s arsenal.

  “Work can wait,” I said to the bosun. “Get everyone up on deck. I have words.”

  “Aye,” she replied, before shouting commands along the length of the ship. “Right, you grubby bastards, nurse those hangovers a while longer. All hands before the mast. Eyes to the quarterdeck. At the fucking double, ladies and gentlemen.”

  Driftwood and I paused by the upward stairs, allowing the crew to follow orders. The whispering resumed as everyone made their way up on deck, with the two of us following a moment later. The bosun stayed ahead of us, making sure the path was clear of malingerers. It was a solemn journey, from the darkness below deck to the crisp, blue morning of the world above. The glassy black cliffs of the Starry Sky acted as a distant curtain, obscuring the sun and casting a huge shadow. To the north, obscured by oddly angled rocks, was a small fleet of ships, slowly filling up with thousands of Sundered Wolves, preparing to sail south, towards the Moon’s Teeth.

  Up on the quarterdeck, I was greeted with a warm hug from Tasha Strong, a raised eyebrow from Kieran Greenfire and a nod of loyalty and respect from Siggy Blackeye. Closer to the starboard railing, now silent as I appeared, were Tomas Red Fang and Bjorn Coldfire. The two spirit-masters knew what had happened at Last Port, but the rest of the crew did not. Daniel Doesn’t Die and Eva Rage Breaker stood with a gang of Sundered Wolves, distinctive for their dark green cloaks. They knew how to behave aboard a warship and needed little instruction in filling the roles left by dead Sea Wolves. Most were assigned to the ballistae decks, assisting Daniel with the black dust.

  “Brothers and sisters,” I began, projecting my voice down the length of the ship. “No matter how far we travel from our homes, we will always be Sea Wolves… and we will always have each other. None of us should forget this, for I have news.” The deck was quiet, with only the ambient sounds of creaking wood and lapping water to accompany my words. “Last Port has fallen.” I said it plainly, knowing it would take a moment for the news to sink in.

  Behind me, I could hear grunts of disbelief from Kieran and the tall bosun, but they and the rest of the crew were quickly silenced by a growl from Tynian Driftwood. “When she’s talking, you lot are listening,” barked the captain.

  I gave him a shallow nod, grateful for his support, before turning back to the crew. Two hundred souls, now silent, with tears in their eyes, looked up at me. “Mikael Brand was my father,” I said. “He was the Battle Brand and the strongest of Sea Wolves. And now he’s dead. Both he and the walls of Last Port were destroyed by the same frogspawn that attacked us at the Bay of Bliss. I know each of you have fathers, mothers, siblings and friends, though I cannot tell you how each fell. Just that they died as Sea Wolves, defending their home from the Sunken God.”

  The assembled crew began to bow their heads, until all of them were looking at the wooden deck. Implied on every face was a silent question. They all wanted to know the same thing as Driftwood. Where the fuck did this leave us? Since the glass broke above the Severed Hand, I’d preached nothing but vengeance. With the Old Bitch of Sea as my ally, everything had been about the fight-back. Now, Last Port was gone and there was no safe haven on the Sea of Stars. Everything left of our people was now aboard two hundred ships.

  “Listen to me,” I boomed. “The Sea Wolves are not defeated yet. There are two hundred ships, sailing into the Sea of Stars. Everything that is left of us and everything we will ever be is with that fleet. If there is no Last Port, then there is nowhere for the fleet to go. We must reach the fleet and warn them. Protect them if need be.”

  Tynian appeared at my side, placing his hands on the quarterdeck railing and facing the crew. Some were silent, but a good portion were whispering amongst themselves. After a second, the captain bowed his head and turned to me. “That might be the wisest thing I’ve heard you say.”

  “Fuck off,” I muttered, out of the corner of my mouth. “I’ve said my words. You can take over now and get this ship to the Bone Coast.”

  He grinned, turning his bearded face into something resembling a clown mask. “We’ll need to use the phoenix again,” he said quietly, assisted by two hundred sailors all lost in their own thoughts. “And we’ll be alone. That talisman will only take one ship through the void. The Sundered Wolves can join us eventually, but it’ll take them weeks on conventional tides. A lot of warriors will join us, after we need them.”

  “Indeed,” I whispered, backing away from the railing. “Halfdan’s Revenge will be alone. Just get it done.”

  He straightened and loudly cleared his throat. “Right, you ignorant bunch,” he roared. “You have heard what we’re doing and you have heard where we are going. We are bound for the Bone Coast, east of Four Claw’s Folly. We will be travelling back through the void. You know the risks and you know the drill. Strong masts, double canvas, and our caps set at a jaunty fucking angle.” He nodded to Eva Rage Breaker. “The ships of the Starry Sky will have to take the long route, but they are now our friends and our allies. Those aboard will be made welcome.”

  “Get to it!” commanded the blonde bosun, marching from the quarterdeck to the mainsail.

  “All hands up and fucking ready,” added Siggy Blackeye. “Work needs doing.”

  “Once more for the Sea Wolves!” I shouted.

  “Once more for the Sea Wolves!” roared Driftwood.

  The chant was quickly taken up and it flowed across the deck like it was all that mattered. Like it was armour against the world. Even the Sundered Wolves joined in, happily bonding with their new friends and allies. Once more for the Sea Wolves.

  *

  The Bone Coast was a vast, craggy line, stretching a thousand miles or more either side of Four Claw’s Folly, where the huge island of Big Brother met the Inner Sea. It was a primeval gateway to a primeval land, left wild and unchecked by the Kneeling Wolves. Even the Folly itself was built on a flat section of the coast, with as little impact as possible on the natural world. The coast was a roadway of sorts, where ships of any draft could sail close to land, using the tides of the Western Drift to make way. It was this very tide that would carry the huge Sea Wolf fleet along the Bone Coast to the Sea of Stars.

  The crew of the Revenge only came back up on deck when a solid jolt and a loud splash signalled that we’d broken the glass and returned to the realm of form. Driftwood, Kieran and I had estimated the likely location of the High Captain – a few days south and west of the Folly, near a tide-ravaged outcropping called Hook Point. As before, Anya’s Friend had exceptional aim, and we arrived right where we meant to, a mile from the coast, within sight of Hook Point. I didn’t like using the talisman a second time, but it was the only way to quickly reach the fleet.

  “Ease her down,” shouted the captain, as a hundred Wolves returned to their duties.

  “Mainsail only,” added the blonde bosun. “Let’s find the Western Drift.”

  “Kieran, get someone aloft,” I ordered, going to the port railing and seeing no sign of the fleet.

  “Aye, my lady… Hitch, get your arse
up there.”

  One of the rig-rats, a small Sea Wolf with strangely large hands, scuttled to the base of the mainmast and pulled himself up the rigging with skill and speed.

  Driftwood and Siggy came to join me by the railing.

  “They should be here,” said the captain, his red beard twitching.

  “Don’t panic,” I said. “Being a little off doesn’t make you a bad navigator. They could be around the headland, past Hook Point.”

  “Hmm,” he replied, doubtfully. “Siggy, ring the bell, I want everyone at battle stations. We’ve got that black dust, let’s make sure we can use it.”

  She saluted and rushed to converse with Kieran and the bosun. They split up along the deck and each rang a heavy, brass bell, rousing everyone still below. Truth be told, they didn’t need much rousing. The men and women of the Revenge had taken to their new duty with gusto, and all were well rested and prepared for whatever fate awaited them. The presence of the Sundered Wolves added to morale, as the strange Eastron were endearingly curious, and eager to learn about their new friends. I was proud to be their leader in a way I’d never been as the Alpha Wolf. As Adeline Brand I felt love and kinship with each and every one of them, though I also felt rising concern for the fleet and the future of my people.

  Tynian Driftwood clicked his fingers in my face. “Adeline, get out of your own head. We’re here… now. A hundred thousand Sea Wolves don’t give a fuck about your internal conflict. Get it under control.”

  “Yeah,” I replied, drily. “I’ll… get it under control.” I scanned the coast ahead of us. “Let’s keep to the shallows, Tynian.”

  “Aye,” he agreed, equally drily. “Shall we drop the Fair Lady as well?”

  I glared at him. “Perhaps not just yet. Though we should open ballistae ports.”

  We stared at each other for a moment, before he replied. “Look at us… having a good, old-fashioned bicker, without anyone threatening to kill anyone.” He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. “As you were, Adeline.”

  In unison, we stopped glaring and turned back to the port railing. The sea was as empty as it had been a moment before, though Halfdan’s Revenge was now moving swiftly, having picked up the Western Drift. The sleek warship was pushed as close to the coast as possible, staying in the shallow water as it glided towards the headland. The Bone Coast was low here, with stretches of rocky beach, before thick, green forest stretched inland, though there were cliffs to the west, with the headland blocking our view of the waters beyond Hook Point.

  “Captain!” shouted Hitch, the rig-rat, from the crow’s nest. “Look starboard… something in the water.”

  Tynian and I rushed across the quarterdeck, joined by many of the crew, roused by the alarm and rushing to the starboard railing. I arrived first and saw a grey line of jagged coral, disappearing beneath the surface of the water. Either side of the coral were flared crests, flushed red. Sunken Men, perhaps twenty of them, though they were gone a moment later. The captain saw the same thing, as did many of the crew.

  “Depth barge!” bellowed Driftwood. “Get us in the shallows… now!”

  29

  Eva Rage Breaker remained on deck, while Daniel Doesn’t Die and twenty Sundered Wolves took charge of the black dust. It was packed into small casks, primed with fuses and attached to ballistae bolts. No Sea Wolf knew exactly how effective it would be, but having it at my disposal made the appearance of the depth barge a little less terrifying, as did the confidence of my new allies.

  Kieran Greenfire was at the helm and flung the wheel to port, pointing the ship at the nearest rocky beach. All across the deck, sailors quickly went aloft and trimmed the sails, making sure we didn’t run aground. Siggy led a watch to the ballistae decks to assist Daniel, and the blonde bosun made sure everyone armed themselves. Within moments, fear and duty had enveloped the crew, with not a single face showing dissent.

  “They die,” I murmured to Tynian. “It’s not easy, but they can be defeated. How many did we kill at the Bay of Bliss? And we didn’t have whatever Daniel’s cooking up below.”

  “We are mighty,” offered Rage Breaker, appearing next to us on the quarterdeck. It was telling that no Sea Wolf had questioned her presence next to their leaders.

  Driftwood chewed on his beard and stared at the gently rolling sea, as if he was holding his breath. “I’d prefer a few catapult boats,” he whispered, scanning the water. “At the Bay of Bliss we didn’t need to draw blades against them and they couldn’t skewer us from below.” He carried on talking, unintelligibly muttering to himself.

  I clicked my fingers in front of his face, mimicking his earlier gesture. “Hey! Do you need me to quote you?” I asked. “It was something about no one giving a fuck about your internal conflict.”

  “Be calm, captain,” said Rage Breaker, subtly caressing the miserable Sea Wolf with her wyrd. “We have strength we have not yet shown.”

  “Getting shallow,” roared the bosun, craning her body over the starboard side of the ship. “Ready the anchor.”

  Kieran, having to use wyrd to wrestle the helm into compliance, spun the wheel back the other way, causing the Revenge to list sharply, with a booming creak from the hull. It was impressive seamanship and we settled in the shallows, pointing our broadside towards the open water, just as Siggy commanded the ballistae ports to open, with the anchor splashing into the sea behind us.

  The water was not deep enough for the depth barge to get near us and it prowled left and right, agonizingly close and appearing as nothing more than a huge, serrated crest. The Sunken Men themselves were still submerged, though it was clear their vessel could not traverse the shallow, coastal water. Against any other foe, a Sea Wolf crew using such skill to evade their enemy would be cheering. I’d be standing with them, swearing and laughing, trying to goad the enemy into hubris. As it was, everyone on deck just stood by the starboard railing, watching the red crest glide in circles, like a ravenous shark had tasted blood and was stalking its prey.

  “Steady,” commanded the captain. His eyes were still wide, almost startled, but Tynian was a tough old bastard and wouldn’t let his crew see the fear I’d seen. “Siggy, ready the ballistae. I hope the dead man’s dust is more than just a fucking story.”

  “But, hold,” I added. “Let’s see what the barge does.”

  The captain nodded agreement and, below deck, Siggy Blackeye roared commands to the Sundered Wolves. Huge bolts emerged from six ports on the starboard side of the ship, with wide, steel arrowheads protruding from the hull. The casks of black dust were secured halfway along the shafts, with men and women poised to light short fuses before the engines were fired.

  “First time I’ve seen a depth barge,” I said to Tynian.

  “You’re coping admirably,” he replied, out of the corner of his mouth. “A few of my boys and girls lost their minds off Karcosa. But those barges didn’t attack us.”

  Halfdan’s Revenge came to a complete stop, her hull tickling the seabed, with two hundred armed Sea Wolves standing ready. Driftwood and I strode down the starboard railing, until we were amidships and facing the, now stationary, depth barge. A hundred thoughts ran through my head. What was it doing here? It can’t have been waiting for us. Had it been following the fleet, perhaps a part of a larger force of Sunken Men?

  “Fire?” asked a timid voice from behind us.

  We both turned and saw Tasha. The Kneeling Wolf had fetched a burning brazier from below deck.

  “Remember… they don’t like fire,” she continued. “I hope the black dust works, but we should still use fire if they get close.”

  There was a momentary pause, then everyone who’d heard rushed to arm themselves with fire, and commands were relayed across the deck to position braziers along the starboard railing. It was a simple reminder, but one that added purpose and vigour to our movements. Even with one arm, I managed to assist Kieran in hefting a black steel brazier across the quarterdeck. The captain and the blonde bosun directed sever
al dozen archers to prepare flaming arrows.

  “They’re on the move,” announced Hitch, pointing from the crow’s nest.

  Back at the starboard railing, I gasped. A dozen Sunken Men, with only their shoulders and heads visible, had left the depth barge and were moving towards Halfdan’s Revenge. They wore strange suits of seaweed and shells. It was some kind of armour, though it flowed unlike steel or leather, hugging their swollen bellies and bulbous arms. As they entered the shallows and began to wade, the grotesque fish-beasts became more and more visible. There was little uniformity in their appearance, just pieces of frog, fish and man melded together in a slimy mockery of all three. They were larger than those at the Bay of Bliss, perhaps ten or eleven feet tall, though still smaller than the one I’d killed at the bone palace. They each held a spear, covered in woven seaweed and tipped with three prongs of serrated coral.

  “Stand ready,” I commanded, when I realized that half the crew, including Driftwood, were just staring dumbly at the monstrous creatures.

  “You heard her!” roared the captain, as if my words had helped clear his mind. “Sight your targets well.”

  “At your word, captain,” shouted Daniel Doesn’t Die, from the ballistae deck.

  “We’re cleared for action,” added Siggy.

  “Fire!” Tynian ordered, as the Sunken Men entered our range.

  “Cover your ears,” roared Daniel.

  Six engines flexed and six ballistae bolts flew from the Revenge, each trailing a lit fuse. They plunged at a low trajectory towards the line of emerging Sunken Men. Their flight appeared to happen in slow motion, with the crew holding their collective breath, until the first bolt struck its target. A cask of dust smashed against a bulbous body, as a steel-tipped shaft impaled the creature. Two other bolts struck, but a surge of water and a deafening explosion quickly obfuscated the scene. One bang turned into a chain, with overlapping explosions creating a dense cloud of black smoke. I’d never heard a Sunken Man scream. It wasn’t the sound of a normal creature and barely recognizable as a sound of pain. It popped and vibrated, until a high-pitched note rose and fell, like the death rattle of a dozen whales.