Red Season Rising

by D. M. Murray

  *

  Broden charged into the room. All the raiders were dead. There were two girls in the room, one whose screaming was tailing off as he entered. She wore a stunned look on her face as she regarded the Ravenmayne amongst those who saved her life.

  “Shut the door!” Evelyne barked towards him. She was kneeling by the other girl, undoing the bindings around the silent girl’s arms.

  There was a look of supreme calm on the girl’s face as Broden shut the door. “Everyone alright?” he asked.

  “Aye,” Kalfinar whispered, stepping over and pulling his hatchet from the head of the Solansian raider. He wiped the weapon down and slung it from his belt. “You?”

  “Fine.”

  “We need to be quick. Come on,” Evelyne snapped as the sounds of battle continued outside. “Hurry.”

  *

  The spirit observed the blood-spilling from its perch on the ship’s main mast. The man-thing’s slaughtered each other well, a pastime the pathetic creatures seemed well adapted to. The spirit feasted on the smell and taste of blood in the air, invigorating itself. The chaos would mask the spirit, allowing it to get close enough to take someone, the little Cannan. Close enough to strike out at them all. Now was the time for redemption; time to be enveloped in the Master’s favour.

  *

  Evelyne moved quick in the poorly lit cabin. Footsteps could be heard outside, followed by the clash of steel, wet cries, and the sound of bodies crumpling onto the deck.

  Chentuck held his sword ready by the cabin door, but no one came. Agurk and Rondo held firm on the outer, deck-side of the cabin. More footsteps pounded across the deck towards the aftercastle.

  “She’s well in the trance still. The cut should be easy.” Evelyne handed the blade to Kalfinar.

  “What are you doing to Katela?” the Daughter of the People sobbed.

  “What we must if she or any of us are to live out the night,” Evelyne barked back, her voice edged and certain. “Look away, for your own good.”

  The Daughter of the People sobbed and turned her head, pulling her knees tightly into her chest. “Don’t hurt her. She’s my friend.” The Daughter of the People’s sob was muffled by her buried face.

  *

  The spirit saw the little man-thing standing at the rear of the ship beside a giant. The lust for blood grew in the spirit. Now was the time. Take the small man-thing. Nothing is protecting him. The spirit shot towards him.

  *

  Agurk parried before smashing his fist into the raider’s face, flattening the nose bone. The raider stumbled backwards. His heel caught on the body of a comrade, betraying him to the deck. Before he hit the floor, Agurk had sliced the raider’s belly open. He turned to see Rondo stepping away from the raider he had just cut down. The little Cannan nodded to Agurk. A moment later, Rondo was thrust backwards through the air, crashing against the cabin wall and flopping onto the raider he had just killed.

  “No!” Agurk shouted, and hunkered to the ground, half expecting an arrow from some unseen bowman. Nothing came. Agurk crawled towards Rondo and flipped the little man over, there was no arrow or bolt. He slapped him on the face, nothing.

  Then Rondo’s eyes opened, and something hit Agurk in the neck.

  *

  The spirit punched the little man-thing’s knife into the one-eyed giant’s throat, showering the creature’s new body in blood. The look of shock on the big man-thing was wonderful. The spirit shoved the dead weight off and stood, unsteady on the pathetic little man-thing’s feet. The spirit stretched out its new neck and fanned its fingers, thin and slick with blood. The spirit pulled the man-thing’s knife from the throat of the giant and moved towards the cabin door.

  *

  “Something’s coming,” Kalfinar mumbled to Evelyne while rubbing the amulet around his neck.

  “Carry on!” Evelyne snapped as Kalfinar’s head turned towards the door.

  “No, there is something—”

  The door swung open to reveal Rondo covered in blood.

  “Just Rondo,” Chentuck said, lowering his sword and heaving out a relieved breath.

  “No!” Kalfinar roared.

  Rondo thumped the knife deep into Chentuck’s stomach and withdrew the blade.

  Chentuck sagged and vomited dark blood as he fell to his knees.

  “Kal, no!” Evelyne shouted. “We must finish.”

  She gripped at him, but Kalfinar shrugged her off and placed down the knife. He pulled out his sword as he stood.

  Chentuck lay motionless on the floor, a pool of dark blood seeping across the deck on the cabin.

  “Kalfinar, no!” Evelyne screamed.

  “So there you are, demon. Come back to claim me, have you?”

  “The Master will feed off you all.” It was not Rondo’s voice when he spoke, but a fractured cacophony of voices, metallic and vile, sounding all at once.

  Kalfinar’s heart thundered and he leapt forward. The spirit’s knife flashed across Kalfinar’s chest, just missing his mail shirt. Kalfinar pressed his attack and forced the spirit backwards by his blows.

  *

  Broden picked up the knife, half-deafened by the screams from the Daughter of the People.

  “Do it!” Evelyne shouted over the noise, holding down the arms of the girl.

  The knife cut easily into her flesh.

  *

  The spirit rallied with a series of ferocious kicks and slashes before trapping Kalfinar’s sword arm with a tight grip, preventing him from swinging. Kalfinar’s other hand moved towards the axe slung through his belt, but the spirit caught the limb and held firm.

  The spirit slammed its head into Kalfinar’s, causing him to see flashes of light. Kalfinar dropped to his knees. The strength returned to his arms and he tensed before stabbing his sword upward, punching clean through Rondo up to the cross-guard.

  Despite the wound, the spirit still struck. Its hand flashed to Kalfinar’s throat and tore away the amulet around his neck, before collapsing to the floor.

  Kalfinar’s world went dark for a moment and then flashed with fire and terror, dread and pain.

  *

  Broden risked a glance and saw Kalfinar lying on the floor as convulsions gripped his body. The back of Kalfinar’s head slammed against the deck in a rapid tattoo along with his feet, spit flying from his mouth and blood spreading in tendrils down his face from his nose.

  “Concentrate!” Evelyne snapped.

  Broden pulled the incision open, exposing the girl’s beating heart. The hammering on the floor stopped. Broden looked back to where his cousin lay. Kalfinar had ceased thrashing, and stood unsteadily. His arms shook and blood dripped from his chin while a grin split his blood-speckled face.

  “That’s not Kal.” Evelyne whispered.

  *

  The spirit stared ahead at the vile creature before it, somewhere between man-thing and child of the liar, Dajda. It would never see that process through, for it was about to die.

  *

  Evelyne whispered an incantation and placed her middle and forefinger onto the girl’s beating heart as Kalfinar, possessed by the spirit, bore down on them.

  “Kal, don’t make me,” Broden shouted as he stood. He crashed a fist into the side of Kalfinar’s head, sending him reeling to the floor. A flash of light momentarily dazzled Broden. As his eyes adjusted, he thought he saw the girl floating a foot off the ground as a beam of bright light shined upwards from her chest. Then he saw a blinding pain at the side of his head.

  *

  The spirit’s foot smashed the big man-thing in the side of the face and sent him slumping over. The female had turned the Liar God’s child and woke her. The spirit felt panic. It was too late.

  The spirit felt it. There was only one chance now: harvest the man-thing’s soul. The spirit flashed a hand to the hatchet in the belt and grabbed it, pulling the blade up towards the throat of the searcher’s body. At least this one would die. At least the Master would be pleased and embrace— />
  *

  The Horn of Dajda opened her mouth and sang. Shrill notes caused the spirit to drop the hatchet as it sliced a shallow cut into the searcher’s neck. It fell to his knees as the song redoubled with another voice. The girl, the Horn of Dajda, sang out with her sister. Together, the voice rose, and grew stronger. There was nothing in the moment but their song.

  *

  The spirit fought and struggled. The pain was immense. Too much. It was being dragged, torn from the one it possessed, the searcher. It was being ripped from within, burned and scorched by the horrifying song of the liar’s children. The spirit’s grip loosened.

  *

  Evelyne risked a glimpse around. Broden had come to and held his hands over his ears as Kalfinar toppled onto the deck, his face to the cabin ceiling. His body arched, belly high and shoulders low, and then dropped before arching again and slamming back down, over and over. The song rose, richer and sharper. Kalfinar’s body arched one last time and, with a shuddering jolt, the spirit screamed from him, wailing as its spectral claws clung on. Its hold on Kalfinar failed it and it was locked firmly in the air above them. Exposed for all its horror, vile eyes burning hatred towards them, its claws snapping and slashing as its shimmering form quivered with rage.

  As the Horn of Dajda sang, a shrill chorus between the two ships, Evelyne approached the spirit, causing it to slink back as far as it could. The spirit slashed out, but the song was too great, and the attack harmlessly rebounded off the walls of the spirit’s invisible prison.

  Evelyne stood before the spirit. It looked smaller now, frightened. She tilted her head to the side, appraising the creature before her mouth stiffened and her eyes set firm. Her hand flashed out and stabbed the spirit’s head with her middle and forefinger. Its wretched body burst into a bright white flame. The thing let out gut-wrenching wails that trailed off as the cabin grew uncomfortably hot. In a pop and a puff of smoke, the spirit was gone.

  “We’ve got to hurry,” Evelyne said as Broden got to his feet. “Come on and help me with the others. We need to get them back to the ship.”

  “Chentuck.” Evelyne approached the stricken Ravenmayne where he lay face down in a pool of blood. She placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on his hip and rolled him onto his back.

  He was dead.

  Sorrow gripped Evelyne and she dabbed away the brimming tears. She moved the few short steps to attend to Kalfinar. The sound of fighting had not picked up again after the song of the Horn.

  Broden looked up from Rondo’s dead face to Evelyne, “What was that noise?”

  She continued to tend Kalfinar as he slid back into consciousness. “That was their song.”

  “Didn’t sound much like I thought it would,” Broden said.

  Evelyne brushed the hair from Kalfinar’s brow. “The Horn of Dajda are not like the Anulii. They are not warriors, but they can defend themselves. That song is how they do so.”

  Broden nodded. “Reckon it can get us out of this mess?”

  Evelyne smiled. “I think so. Listen.”

  The only noise was the hyperventilating Daughter of the People.

  “See,” Evelyne said, “there’s little fighting out there. It will start again, once their senses come back. We must be quick.”

  As she spoke, Kalfinar’s eyes flickered open. The blood vessels in the whites of both eyes had ruptured, sending bloody tear tracks down the side of his head.

  “Welcome back,” she whispered.

  *

  Those eyes.

  Kalfinar was grateful for the sight of them. He was grateful for the hair that tickled his face and for her soft hands on his skin. Most of all, he was grateful for freedom from the spirit’s grip. He saw it all. Saw hell. He tasted the power of the spirit’s master. He tasted dread.

  “Thank you,” Kalfinar croaked.

  He tried to prop himself onto his elbows, but his whole body felt like he’d just been trampled. He sucked in an agonising breath. His lungs sent stabs of pain along his chest and into his stomach. He shuddered with discomfort and propped himself up before rising unsteadily to his feet.

  Kalfinar looked fully in the face of the beautiful light-being. The young girl radiated the same calm and serenity as the little girl on the ship. He glanced around the cabin, observing the scene within. “What happened?”

  “The demon that sought you,” Evelyne spoke, “it sought to take advantage of the chaos. It took Rondo first and then it took you.” She reached out and placed the amulet in his hand. “Put that on, just in case. Once the spirit took you, it tried to kill the girl before we could wake her, but it was too late. Once we had awoken her, it stood no chance against the two of them. Their song tore it from you and held it while I destroyed it.”

  “It’s gone?” Kalfinar asked. “Forever?”

  “From what I understand of the nature of such spirits, it’s gone, but it’s safer to keep the amulet on for now until we can be sure.”

  Broden interrupted as the sound of fighting resumed outside the cabin. “We need to hurry. Let’s get ready.” He grabbed his sword. “Evelyne,” Broden asked as she raised the Daughter of the People to her feet, “can they sing again?”

  She nodded once. “You’ll all have to cover your ears if you can, understood?”

  Kalfinar stood unsteadily, sucked a deep breath into his aching chest, and placed his hand on the cabin door. He glanced back to see the Daughter of the People grab an oil torch from its wall-bracket. With a face of stiff resolve, the young woman tossed the oil lamp into the corner of the cabin, causing it to burst into flame. Caught between shock and approval, Kalfinar nodded, signalling for the song to begin.

  The cry was shrill, redoubling as a voice rose from the other ship. When the cabin door swung open, men, women, raiders, and volunteers fell to their knees while clutching their ears. Not too many of Ohasha’s were still alive.

  They quickly covered the deck, leaping over bodies until they got to the port side of the raider’s ship. A body caught Kalfinar’s eye as he approached the rail. It was slumped against the main mast, the feathers of a crossbow bolt protruding from the chest. Dark hair hung lank over the face. Around the left leg was a metallic brace. Ohasha had given her life in service, as vowed.

  Kalfinar hauled the Daughter of the People onto her father’s ship, the two being still bound together. One by one, Ohasha’s volunteers crossed over. The ship’s crew were suffering from the piercing song of the Horn of Dajda. Some were on their knees, palms squeezed tight over their ears, whilst others staggered about, offering whatever help they could.

  Kalfinar looked back to the raider’s ship. The flames in the aftercastle grew larger, cracking the glass windows and licking out like the tongue of some hungry demon. He looked across at the deck of the raider’s ship. No more of Ohasha’s boarding party were moving.

  “We’ve got to get away,” Kalfinar roared, the effort stabbing pain into his back and shoulders. “The other ships in the flotilla will come around soon.”

  Broden and Evelyne nodded.

  Kalfinar removed one hand from the side of his head and pulled his axe from his belt. Running down the starboard-side of the ship, he cut free the ropes.

  Flames from the aftercastle spread across the cabin front onto the poop deck. The hungry fire crept forward, igniting bodies as it consumed more of the vessel. The ships slowly drifted apart.

  Kalfinar raised his hand and the dreadful song ended. The shrill cry rang in their ears as mist enveloped the raider’s ship. Within a moment, the only sign it had been there at all was the growing nimbus. It flared and spread as hungry flames consumed the ship.

  “The rest of the flotilla will have noticed the flames by now. We can out run most ships, but we need to get moving. Where are you being pulled?” Kalfinar asked Evelyne.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. “We must sail across the Yellow Sea for Carte. With all haste.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “So wh
at of this sickness then?” Subath asked Olmat through a mouthful bread.

  Olmat looked up from the book he was reading by the fire in Governor Harruld’s study. “How do you mean?” he asked.

  “Well,” the sergeant said, tearing off another mouthful and rolling it around the inside of his cheek, “I was just wondering what I need to look out for.” Subath swallowed a mouthful of wine and wiped his mouth as his grin split. “Because, you know, I want to know if my old pecker’s going to be dropping off.”

  “If your prick drops off it’ll be your own fault,” Major Merkham said from the other side of the study where he reviewed troop allocations with Harruld. “With all the terrible things you’ve done to it in the past, I’m surprised it hasn’t dropped off of its own accord.”

  Subath laughed and slapped his fist on the table in applause.

  Harruld looked up and smiled thinly. “Best run through the symptoms for him, Olmat,” Harruld said. “We can’t have one of our most experienced men distracted by looking at his prick the whole time.”

  “Well, first thing, Sergeant, I can assure you from what I understand of this type of infection, there is not much chance of your,” Olmat nodded towards Subath’s lap, “falling off. Although, from what I hear, you haven’t had much need for it of late.”