Party of Five - A game of Po

by Vasileios Kalampakas

  ***

  A sleek, fiery streak of light, metal and wood hurled itself across the sky of Laertia. Close behind it like an incessant hound on its mark, was the jagged hulk of the Ygg warship, shooting hooks and chains in an effort to grab the HLS Maryland, which wobbled uncertainly but always managed to steer away at the last moment.

  Winceham was at the ship’s helm, while everything around him wrangled with the overpowering noise things make when they’re about to be torn up in pieces.

  “Ned, lad! If you have any brilliant ideas, now would be a good time!” Winceham yelled, his pipe cut in half, hanging from his mouth perfectly destroyed by a beam of light that would have proved unseemly fatal if it were to stray a few inches closer to his head.

  “Nothing fancy, but it would help if you could land someplace where we can hide!” Ned replied from the deck, where he was helping the crewmen take out a fire that threatened to burn down the main mast. The ship’s hull glowed with a warm, at times fierce orange and silvery light as they entered the planet with a speed far superior to the one the ship had been designed for. Unfortunately for them, the Ygg behemoth which closely resembled a sharp flying mountain like a magnified chipped stone spear-tip had little trouble keeping up.

  “I can’t see a bloody thing lad, we’re still going too fast! It’s all a blur!”

  “Try to find some clouds to hide in!” Ned shouted back as they kept pouring buckets of sand used as ballast on the main mast, with little success in keeping the mast from turning into a cinder. “And try to keep her steady!” Ned added from a prone position on the deck, after a sudden violent lurch had sent him and four other men off their feet. A wide beam of purple, eldritch light thick as shadows shot by the ship’s starboard side, right beside the ship’s waterline, filling the air with a reverberating, fizzing and crackling sound.

  “You mean you want us dead?” Winceham retorted.

  “I mean keep her flying in the same direction! We need to spot the Kingdom of Nomos!” Ned urged Winceham even as he was getting back on his feet.

  “What am I looking for then?” Winceham shouted over the raucous din of the ship falling apart and the turbulent, violent entry into Laertia’s skies.

  “Mountains, I guess!” Ned replied carrying a bucket in his hand, loaded with sand. “Parcifal!” he shouted out, his eyes searching for Parcifal frantically. He saw her then, at the stern of the ship, perched inside a huge throne-like enclosure, like a bird in a cage with a pretty hefty-looking cannon attached to it. Then the whole assembly she was controlling through all sorts of levers intricately connected to a whirring, rotating mass of cogs and rods, shook in its entirety as a violent, blinding, multi-hued colored flash of light followed a fireball shot forth from the cannon’s muzzle in a show of sputtering fireworks. A moment or so later the shot landed at the Ygg ship, tearing down a jutting rock spire and stripping it away from the main ship, crumbling in the air as the turbulent air wrecked it to pieces. The Ygg ship seemed to have noticed, trying to swerve a moment too late, but only barely; it answered with a massive volley of violet bursts of raw energy in a square-grid pattern, its source a neatly packed, shiny mass of rough-hewn crystals.

  “Incoming!” Parcifal shouted for everyone to hear, before urging the cannon’s crew: “Reload! Make it look like your lives depend on it!”

  “I thought they do, missus. Don’t they, Mr. Tinkerery?” a crewman asked earnestly even while loading one of the multi-colored balls into the cannon. “Oy boyo! Shut your mouth and do your job, or there’ll be no rum for you next shift!” replied the crew-master, expertly unfazed even as a violet ray of death ate away crisply at his sailor’s hat. He nevertheless tipped whatever remained of his hat to Parcifal who let another well-aimed salvo the instant she felt a tap at her knee.

  “Parcifal!” Ned yelled, running toward her, the mast behind him snapping in two like a badly burned fire log, just when Winceham put the Maryland in a violent downward spin. The sudden lurching motion threw everyone off their feet, except for Parcifal who was tied down in her cannon cage and Winceham who held on to the helm as if it were the last mug of beer in the universe, his body going flat, in line with the deck. The rest of the crewmen were very professional about it all and simply held on to anything they could, their expressionless face a testament to their seamanship and complete ignorance of danger, even when faced with it, clear and present.

  “Reload!” Parcifal urged the cannon crew and shot an angry look at Ned who was barely able to hold on to the ship from her cage. “What is it? I’m in the middle of a battle!” she said with a piercing, fiery gaze and a voice filled with proud undertones.

  “Well... I don’t know what to say, really. I’m sorry. I... I hadn’t noticed,” Ned found the time to reply in apology, looking surprised and abysmally hurt, his eyebrows twitching and his eyes rolling.

  “This is exactly what I mean when I say you could use some lessons in sword-fighting, Ned. Now please, try and keep the ship steady,” she said while another tap on her knee made her pull on the firing lever, and another fiery ball of light and destruction was hurled against the Ygg battleship, missing at the last moment. The Ygg ship was steadily closing in and this time replied with another salvo of hooked chains and anchors flying in an lopsided arc, aiming to land and latch on to the HLS Maryland. Ned exploded, completely unaware of a deadly mass of iron in the shape of an anchor flying his way:

  “Are you completely out of sync with reality?! It was sarcasm! I was being sarc-”

  Parcifal jumped out of her cage and pushed Ned away with all her might; they both tumbled and fell freely for a moment before the Maryland uprighted itself at the last moment, crashing them hard against the deck as it entered a thick mass of cold, snow-laden clouds, completely obscuring the ship.

  “You’ve trusted the dwarf to fly the ship, haven’t you?” Parcifal asked even as an uncanny, sudden silence fell around them in tune with the extremely dense fog that only allowed one to see as far as his hands could stretch.

  “Halfuin, please! We are a distinct race, descendant from the dwarves of old. We’re just not as thick, mind you,” Winceham said from somewhere probably nearby.

  “Just thick as bricks, then?” Parcifal intoned as she got up, trying to orient herself. The crew breathed a collective sigh of relief. The crew-master’s voice rang above the others: “All right lads! Five minute break, have a swig if ya feel like it,” he said and a round of cheers went up.

  “What are you doing?” Ned’s voice echoed around the fog, the ship wobbling and swaying as it limped through the cloud.

  “We’re taking a break, sir,” the crew-master responded kindly enough.

  “We’re in the middle of a deadly fight, you can rest when no-one’s trying to kill us!” Ned retorted wide-eyed.

  “Well, there’s always someone out there that might want to try and kill us, sir, so we figure, any chance for a break’s as good a time as any,” the crew-master replied and tipped what remained of his hat.

  “Besides, union regulations,” Winceham added and a tiny spark a moment later flashed from somewhere nearby. A tiny fire started going and Winceham was having a smoke.

  “Dredge me down and drag me along the sand! What are you doing?” Ned asked, unable to believe Winceham was apparently like-minded on this as well.

  “I’m having my break,” Winceham said as if trying to explain something to a deaf person.

  “Since when are you union? Since when is there a union? I thought this was some sort of Navy!” Ned asked in confusement.

  “Joined up right before we left Rampatur. Really nice benefits, you should see their program if we get back alive!” Winceham replied smiling.

  “Mutinous traitors!” Parcifal said and unsheathed Encelados, its blade glowing with a dim blue light that went unnoticed inside the foggy cloud.

  “Now hold on a moment, we’re just having a five-minute break, per the Navy’s charter and our union’s regulations,” the crew-master said from s
omewhere close.

  “And you think now is a good time for a break? A huge flying rock hurtling after us, having torn this ship almost asunder, and you take a break?” Ned asked with every bit of sincerity in his voice.

  “Why not? Now’s as good a time as any, isn’t it Mr. Abbermouth?” the crew-master said, and Winceham replied with a laughing voice:

  “I wouldn’t say no to a swig of rum any part of the day!”

  “They’re trying to kill us and you’re having a break!” Ned said, trying to fully realize the concept and failing horribly.

  “The penalty for mutiny in time of war is summary execution!” Parcifal yelled and thrust Encelados blindly towards the crew-master. Ned saw a flash of silver then and feared for the worst. Before he had time enough to speak a word, the fog lifted as if some giant hand pulled away a huge bedcover, and what they could now see, was something they didn’t have time to realize fully.

  An Ygg was standing between the crew-master and Parcifal, Encelados protruding from the monster’s belly, its blue-on-blue eyes flickering with their dying light, and all around them on the deck of the ship, a host of Ygg was a couple of feet away from having their tentacled mouths on everyone’s heads, ready to suck their brains dry.

  “Break’s off, lads!” the crew-master yelled and a moment of grumpy near-silence was followed by a sudden realization that in the flick of an eye gave way to a proper mayhem.

  “Yagh! Yagh!” the Ygg soldiers roared through raspy, abyssal throats and lunged against everyone on-board.

  “By Skrala’s might, begone to the void that bore you!” Parcifal screamed and with one easy swing of Encelados she cut clean the head of the nearest Ygg.

  “All bets are off lads!” Winceham screamed and took out his daggers, tumbled swiftly on the deck and stuck an Ygg in its lower back, white blood sprouting profusely. The Ygg turned around and with a throaty yell lunged at Winceham, its tentacles writhing morbidly. Ned went for his crossbow and loaded a bolt, before realizing the Ygg warship was floating right in front of them, an array of glowing lights brightening up like a demonic spider’s head ready to spout its venom.

  “Helm! Evasive!” Ned shouted even as he took hasty aim against an Ygg hurling itself against him.

  “Wot’s that, sir?” replied the crew-master sounding confused, the cutlass in his hand weaving a path of white blood in front of him.

  “Move! Move the ship!” Ned cried in anguish before springing into a sprint for the ship’s helm.

  He was too late. The Ygg warship let a volley of bright crackling energy rays head on in the Maryland’s bow. The arcane crackling energies flashed violet and bored through the HLSMaryland easily, ripping gaping holes in its wooden hull and metal ribs and parts, small and large, leaving a spatter of destruction in their weight.

  The ship keeled slightly to its left and began a whimpering free-fall, bereft of the thaumaturgic force that kept it afloat. Pieces of its hull began falling apart, as the insides of the ship bolted and sprung, tearing it apart like a badly wound-up toy.

  “Let Svarna’s light burn through your evil!” Parcifal screamed with fury, lending herself to an onslaught amidst half a dozen Ygg, their claws eager to meet her, but always being cut short, literally.

  “We’re going down!” Ned yelled even as he felt the deck below his feet remove itself.

  “No retards?” Winceham asked while in free-fall.

  “Afraid not, boyo,” said the crew-master falling away, letting his cutlass fly away as he dived down to the ground without sounding overly concerned about gravity and death.

  The whole ship fell finally apart with a loud cracking, whipping noise and everyone began falling to meet a certain death a few thousand feet below, the remaining Ygg floating in the air, like harbingers of certain death, chanting in praise of their void master.

  “Yagh! Yagh! Ygg shototh!”

  Parcifal folded her arms and fell downwards like a bird of stone, flying past everyone else who were haplessly tumbling in the air. Their eyes were sharp and clean, bereft of fear. Ned had closed his eyes, his legs splayed and his arms wide. Winceham was trying to steady himself in the air, fumbling for his tobacco pouch; remembering the pouch had been cut in half as well, he rolled his eyes and folded his arms, beginning to tumble fuzzily once more.

  Then Parcifal yelled with all her might:

  “By Skrala’s might and Svarna’s fervor, Gods of the Mountain, lend me the ancient form!”

  Her body began to transform; her skin became taught as her body began to swell and grow. From her back, a leathery protrusion grew into an ever-expanding tail. Her chest became swollen and her sides writhed as if a newborn was about to kick and scream its way out. Her face was cast in a reverend agony, while her feet and hands began to grow talons. Her clothes were ripped apart even as her head became elongated, her forehead becoming a bony, enlarged plate. Her nose turned into a snout and her skin turned into a leathery, deeply-scaled hide, red and orange, the colour of fire.

  In the span of a few heartbeats, she had turned fully into a dragon, red and fiery, with large powerful wings flapping mightily in the sky. She turned and swept in the air, feeling for the currents, before she began to pick up the falling crew one by one, letting them gracefully land across her spine.

  “Swear to any and all gods willing to drop me a line, living or dead, I ain’t having no mushrooms no more, never,” Winceham whispered mostly to himself as he twisted his head around to see Parcifal, in her dragonform, twist in the air gracefully and clutch Ned easily in one of her claws. He then saw her coming for him, swooping down like a majestic predator. He was confused, feeling unsure whether or not he’d been kind enough to Parcifal for her not to rip him apart, possibly claiming it was only a mistake afterwards.

  She caught him expertly in the air and he was swept upwards as she rolled and banked, moving away from harm’s reach, dodging a violet, scorching ray in the last moment.

  “Dear me, I didn’t know you could do that!” Winceham cried with mixed feelings of amazed joy and sheer terror. It was oddly soothing to hear Parcifal speak in her dragonform, her voice deepened but not wholly changed:

  “There’s still some fight left in me, halfuin!” she said and tried to smile, though the effect was more akin to a cringing wall of teeth, each one the size of a man’s fist.

  “Watch it!” Ned cried, pointing at the Ygg warship, descending down onto them like a rolling mountain.

  “I can’t outrun them! Hang on!” she said and started swerving hard, left and right even as fresh volleys of death rays failed to touch her.

  “It doesn’t look good now, eh boyo?” the crew-master said, the air rushing past them with buffeting force.

  “Depends if those shots land on target,” Winceham said and pointed feebly at a swarm of multi-colored fireballs, whirling in the air above the Ygg warship.

  “It’s the Bellerephon’s Quagmire! It’s Judith!” Ned screamed overjoyed.

  The bow of the mighty Human League warship appeared out of the clouds forcefully, shredding its fluffy face with a belligerent fury. The shots landed on the Ygg warship with terrible destructive force, shuttering rocks and crystal spires, chipping away at the flying fortress of rock like powerful, huge chisels.

  “Hurrah!” the crew yelled, erupting in cheers and searching for their caps and hats to wave, realizing they’d lost in them in the fall.

  “Too soon for comfort,” Parcifal commented and nodded with her dragon head to a flotilla of several Ygg ships, equally distasteful and menacing in design, only smaller. At about the same time, the Human League flotilla appeared out of the cloudscape, close behind the Bellerephon’s Quagmire.

  “Think she’ll make it?” Ned said nervously.

  “She’s a big ship, she’ll be fine,” Winceham said idly.

  “I was talking about Judith,” Ned retorted, while Parcifal added: “You should start worrying about us for a change, Ned Larkin,” she said somewhat angrily.

  “Tha
nk you for saving us, Lady Teletha,” Ned said with a smidgen of sarcasm and added, “But we’re fine now, the fight’s up there!”

  “There’s fighting down there as well,” Parcifal replied with what could have been a grin, and folded her wings, dropping faster towards the ground.

  “What’s that big crystal down there? Is that a lake?” Ned asked, his voice strained against the wind.

  “I don’t know about the crystal, but yes, that’s the Pristine Lake of the Walled Gardens,” Parcifal replied with worry in her voice.

  “What about those dark spots down there? There’s hundreds of those, aren’t there?” Winceham asked in turn.

  “Nine and a half out of ten, this doesn’t bode well,” Parcifal said while Ned had a terrible realisation: “It stands to reason, these are Ygg. And if those are Ygg, those spots smack in the center fighting them off, they could be...”

  He let his voice trail off, and Parcifal shouted with righteous fury: “Sister! Hold on!”

  “Would you mind not tensing up? These talons seem quite sharp,” Winceham said uncomfortably and saw the ground, the lake and the huge crystal rushing towards them with alarming speed.