“What the hell?! ” Kane shouted. “I just did you a favor, you morons!”
They made no response. It occurred to him they probably didn’t speak any human tongue, and that he, as his dad used to say, was now well up Shit Creek without a paddle.
There were five crewmen visible, and three of them aim ed weapons at him. One of the riflemen spoke, but whatever came out of his mouth didn’t sound anything at all like language, more like a series of metallic grunts.
Kane put his hands up, but he didn’t drop his weapon. That s eemed to appease them. At the very least, they didn’t shoot him.
“I have no idea who you are, and I can’t understand what the hell you’re saying,” Kane said with a smile. “ For all I know you’re telling me how sexy I am. ”
Something exploded inside the tank. The reptile skiff’s guns swiveled back towards the smoking vehicle as the exit hatch flew open.
A vampire emerged from the wreckage. It was clothed in pale red armor, wore a jagged metal facemask and dark goggles, and held a bone-rifle. Kane dove forward and barely dodged a barrage of needles. The skiff riders hammered the vampire with the chaingun and their rifles, but the undead still managed to fire back at them even as it was torn apart. A barrage of eight-inch bone shards rammed into the skiff. One took a grey-skinned rifleman in the throat and threw him backwards.
Something else emerged from the crash, a bulky and armored shape, four-legged and black. Its horns glistened with some sort of oily and undoubtedly poisonous substance. Barbed chains wrapped around the horns and linked into the beast’s iron jaw plating. Undead nostrils steamed dark fumes as it plowed its way out of the side of the vessel.
“You have got to be kidding me…” Kane said.
The undead Ebonback stamped its feet. It was five- feet at the shoulder s, a tank on legs. Its dank eyes were rotted and mostly gone, and its flesh was riddled with heavy scars. Viscous red and black fluid seeped out from under sheets of iron that had been fused and hammered into place on its bulky corpse. A dark saddle had been riveted to its back. The creature exhaled, and a thick cloud of frozen onyx fumes billowed down around its cloven steel feet.
The beast stamped again, and charged at Kane. He fired his M14, but the bullets bounced harmlessly off the beast’s metal hide.
Kane turned and ran towards the skiff. Sweat poured down his face, and his heart hammered. He expected to feel the horn s punch through his back at any second. F ear raced down his spine.
The creature was right on him. Kane threw himself forward and rolled under the advancing skiff. Sand and stone cut into his arms. The Ebonback collided with the ship and knocked it backwards with a loud clang. Blood and necrotic fluid gushed out from between its armor plates.
The skiff floated back and listed to one side. The beast stumbled, its momentum broken, but he knew it would recover in just a few seconds.
The M14 was empty, so he dropped it and pulled out a grenade as the Ebonback lowered its head and readied to charge at him again. Cold air filled Kane’s lungs as he breathed in, waiting for his end.
The horn dipped, and the beast charged. Its thunderous approach shook the ground. Kane reached behind his back for his combat sword, a short blade with a razor point.
He saw movement over the ridge. H e didn’t want the others to see him die.
The beast scooped its head low as it drew close. Kane darted to the side and rammed the point of his blade into the creature’s eye. Black blood gushed out and sprayed onto his bare arms. He s mell ed grave rot and turpentine.
Kane fell backwards as the creature raced past him. He threw the live grenade in the Ebonback’s path as he rolled down the dune and folded himself into a ball.
The grenade went off. Chunks of black steel and meat pummeled the ground.
“Kane!” Ronan shouted from over the dune, but it was too late.
Something struck him from behind, some sort of webbing that latched onto hi m and sent volts of electricity through his body. Kane cried out, convuls ed, and blacked out.
Kane woke on his back, staring up at the sky. H e felt nauseous, his stomach was clenched, and his hands were asleep because they’d been bound tightly behind his back. There was blood on his face, and his legs were twisted uncomfortably on the metal floor.
He was moving. The world shifted. He turned his eyes from the ic y sun and saw brown stones and low drifts of black sand.
W e ’ re close to the coast.
Jade was there with him, a s were Maur and Sol. A ll of them had been bound with lengths of chain secured to iron loops on the deck of the skiff. T here was no sign of Ronan.
Kane tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. His shoulders ached, and he tasted sand on his tongue.
The skiff moved at a fair pace, especially considering the damage it had suffered during the battle. Smoke churned from its aft end, but the engine sounded like it r an smoothly.
Well that’s a relief, he thought. At least we won’t crash, so we’ll live long enough to find out what these freaks plan to do to us.
“You guys…” He coughed. The scent of vomit filled his nostrils. “You guys ok?”
“They have Ronan,” Jade said.
The skiff bobbed up and down as it hugged a terrain covered in cold dunes and low rocky hills. The ground was deep red, like blood had dried on the sand. Kane smelled salt and rot. He tried to sit up, and failed. Dark clouds waited for them over the sea to the west. The atmosphere was cold and damp, and his skin was freezing. He remained on his side — at least if he stayed like that his hands weren’t crushed beneath his own weight.
“Interrogation?” he asked.
“Maybe,” Sol asked. “But they don’t seem to understand us anymore than we understand them, so I’m not sure what the hell they’d be asking him.”
“Any clue as to who they are?” Kane asked.
The recoilless rifle had been covered and sec ured with a tarp, but the chain guns were manned and pointed out into the wastes. A pilot stood at the helm, which was just a simple shaft of metal covered with levers and cranks. None of the crew paid any attention to the prisoners.
“They could be Grey Clan,” Jade said quietly. “No one knows what ever happened to them.”
The reptilian crewmen were spread out across the uneven deck. Their scaly reptilian flesh was ic y grey and oozed secretion s like dirty oil. They wore g as mask s wrapped around pugnacious lizard-like jaw s, and their eyes were solid yellow. S caly fingers ended in sharp claws, and their bod ies w ere wrapped in mismatch ed leather and metal armor. They carried o ld-fashioned Colt revolver s, razorwire-bound batons th at sparked with electricity, short serrated knives and bandoliers stuffed with grenades.
“Grey Clan… well… maybe… ” Kane said.
A hatch opened that led below deck; it was so carefully concealed Kane hadn’t even noticed it before it swung outwards. A nother tall grey-skinned humanoid emerged wearing a dark and tattered cape that rippled in the wind. Its eyes lock ed on Kane.
“Nice cape, Emperor Ming,” Kane spat.
The creature growled something that might have been an insult. It lifted Kane up by the arm as another crewman undid his chains. Kane considered resisting, but he knew that w ould be dangerous until he knew where Ronan was.
I’ve managed to screw things up so far, he thought. I n eed to make sure I do n’t get any one killed.
Stumbling and dizzy, Kane tried his best not to trip and fall as they led him below deck.
FIVE
Hunted
Blacksand was a city in transition, a place h obbled together by refugees, outcasts, deserters and nomads. Its architecture was a mishmash of scrap and converted caravan vessels, broken-down airships and jury-rigged freighters. Plates of steel and stone had been fused together by mercenary warlocks to provide the semblance of outer walls. Loose agreements between var ious gangs, merchant bands and T he Shard helped maintain a semblance of order, but since the city catered to so many travelers and bizarre tribes like
the Mektesh and the Dorai’mara’kaar, as well as sea brigan ds from the distant Nezek’duul I slands across the Ebonsand Sea, Blacksand treaded the fine line between being cosmopolitan and just being completely disorganized.
Danica had a good view of both the pier and the dark waters through the dingy window. I ron tugboats churned through the polluted bay, and massi ve crates of boxed goods swung in webbed cargo nets. The dipping sun shone rust red on the glassy waves. T he spiked city walls loomed to the north, and corbelled towers statio ned all along the docks rotated in place as their motorguns scanned the waters for signs of trouble.
She and Klos Vago sat at a corner table in The Blood Rose, which was a cross between a brothel, a t avern and a gambling den. Purple smoke made her eyes sting, and t he air was heady with fish oil and musk, overcooked po tatoes and watered down alcohol.
The Blood Rose was essentially a dual-level bar with small private tables in the upper seating area and dozens of crude wooden tables on the lower level. Everything was crafted from red and black wood, and the place was brightly illuminated by open windows and grill-covered skylights. P ortions of greasy seafood were served in trays lined with brown paper. The atmosphere was muggy and tasted of overcooked fish and tobacco.
Danica saw merchants and drifters, mercenaries and killers, laborers, ex-slaves and runaways. It was a place filled with the dregs of the borderlands, people who didn’t fit in — or else who didn’t want to fit in — with the Southern Claw’s laws and plans. Looking at the displaced clientele reminded her of how far she and the team still had to travel.
It feels like it’s been years since we’ve been home, she thought. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that s he thought of the team’s mansion in Thornn as “home”.
She looked ac ross the table at Vago. He wasn’ t a remotely attractive human being in any sense of the word. His scarred face was held together with jagged stitches, and his mismatched eyes sparkled with thaumaturgic augmentations. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and so incredibly thick in his chest and arms that the lower half of his body looked puny by comparison. His thin black hair was pasted back against his scalp, and he had a preposterously pugnacious jaw. He wore dark leather armor, tall black boots laced up with metal straps, and a. 44 magnum in a shoulder-holster.
“You know that I hate you, right?” Danica asked.
“ Yes. I know,” he answered. He always smiled, and that just made him more hideous. His teeth were rotted from alcohol and tobacco, and he ground them when he spoke. His voice was thick, like he had a throat full of glass. “And that’s too bad, Danica. I find you intoxicating.” He took a drink and puffed on a massive cigar that smelled like a burning boat.
“Awesome,” she said, and she took a drink of her black bomber. Danica also dressed in dark leather armor. S he wore a pair of katar s under her long armored coat and a Colt Python in a shoulder holster. It took a lot of willpower on her part not to use either of them on Vago, especially since his unnaturally beady eyes didn’t seem capable of pulling away from her chest.
The fish at The Blood Rose was supposedly the freshest in the city, and they offered their watered down drinks at a cheaper rate than almost anywhere else in Blacksand.
Danica wouldn’t touch the fish. Being in Vago’s presence had effectively quelled any notion of hunger.
“Have I mentioned that I’m a lesbian?” she said bluntly.
“Once or twice. ” H e managed to both growl and smile at once. “Did it occur to you that might be why I find you so interesting?”
Danica thought about that. She lit a cigarillo — the decision she’d made a couple of years back to quit smoking had been almost entirely forgotten in light of recent events — and took another drink. The bomber tasted meaty in her throat, like she’d taken a fresh drink of blood from a kill.
Weird. I haven’t thought about that in a long time. The last time she’d been hunting had been with Cradden, back when they were both kids in what used to be North Carolina. It was one of the few things she and her brother had been able to do and actually enjoy one another’s company, even if it had only been because they had to watch each other’s backs with Dad around.
“If you mean to imply that you intend for to hook me up with one of your bimbette s, you can friggin’ forget it.”
“Danica,” Vago smiled. His accent wa s heavy, something European. “Do you know why I have taken you and your friends under my wing?”
“‘Under your wing?’” Danica laughed. “Are you kidding me? You have us doing free work for you. ”
“In exchange for my help.”
“We were supposed to be gone already,” she said. “If you would’ve helped us out quickly like you promised, my friends and I wouldn’t be hip-deep in shit right now.”
“You should count yourself lucky,” Vago said slowly. “Your Revenger friends want you. Badly. And I’m the only thing standing in their way.”
He was right, but she’d never admit it. From what little information she’d been able to get out of him, T he Revengers had come to the area near Blacksand for some other purpose, but something or some one had tipped them off about Danica’s presence. Now that they knew she was there they stuck to the area like glue. Danica had never heard of the wardens operating this far south before, but she supposed they’d been bound to run out of easy places to find inmates sooner or later, and the borderlands were a perfect place for harvesting new workers for the mines.
“ After my team gets back, we’re leaving,” Black said. She took another drink, knowing what came next.
“Yes,” he smiled. “ Of course.” He didn’t even bother trying to sound sincere.
Danica didn’t think he actually wanted to sleep with her, or for her to sleep with anyone else. He didn’t really want anything except for her to understand that he could do whatever he wanted, and that she and her friends had no room to negotiate.
I’ve met plenty of men like you. It ’ s all about the power play.
Using Vago’s equipment, Danica had confirmed the large number of Killraven and Black Dog units patrolling Blacksand’s perimeter. Vago’s witches had cast incredibly powerful nullifying enchantments that kept Danica from being detected, but the magic had been specifically crafted only to function while she was in Vago’s proximity. Until Black and the others finished their period of indentured service, they were stuck. T here was no way the y could take on so many Revengers.
“I should be with my team,” she said as she pushed her food away. She’d never been a fan of fish, especially fish that smelled like it had been overcooked and soaked in an extra lair of grease.
“ Danica,” Vago smiled. “ D id it ever occur to you why they might be looking for you?”
“I know exactly why they’re looking for me,” she said.
The Revenger’s perpetual quest for money and power pushed them to do horrible things. It was alarming how quickly even new recruits lost their grip on humanity, and how easy it became for them to disregard the lives they took. She only had to close her eyes for a moment to clearly see Black Scar in her memory: halls of reeking steel and b urning cages, deep pits filled with slick red mud, a choking haze of diamond dust, and the screams of the dying in the steam-blasted halls. The wardens had dug through black rock to a world below, a place filled with raw minerals and gems that kept them comfortable and isolated, rich beyond measure but segregated from the rest of humankind.
She wanted s o badly to leave that place behind, but she knew a part of her would always be trapped there.
Contrary to what she said, Danica wasn’t entirely sure why T he Revengers were trying to find her. She had trouble believing Rake would go through so much trouble over a deserter.
She looked behind Vago and saw his bodyguards, a pair of thick-necked and well-muscled men with long knives and auto-pistols. Danica was surprised he didn’t object to her carrying weapons in his presence, but then she remembered she wasn’t technically his prisoner.
It just s
eems like it.
“There ’ s an event today,” Vago said as he cracked open a shellfish and slurped out its pasty white innards with his considerable tongue. Danica tried not to look, but the sound he made while he ate was thoroughly nauseating. “I would like you to accompany me.”
“Gosh, could I?” she said flatly. She finished her black bomber, and their waitress brought her another. Danica drank it without hesitation. Her spirit hugged tight against her skin, and she felt him burn with disapproval — she’d already had several of the stout licorice-flavored drinks, and every time she imbibed another he had to clear the alcohol from her blood with a jolt of arcane energy. H e was gentl e enough with Black to cleanse her system without making her vomit, but h is treat ment became slightly less friendly with each subsequent drink.
She’d had to keep him reigned in, and that made them both uncomfortable. The Revengers undoubtedly ha d hunter witches keyed in to hi s particular arcane signature, and even with Vago’s so-called protection, using him for even the simple act of burning the liquor out of her body was living danger ously.
Gargoyles soared overhead, hired muscle used by Vago to keep the peace in Blacksand. From what Danica had seen on the streets and in the docks, they weren’t terribly good at their job.
Someone started the arcane jukebox in the corner. A heavy guitar riff blasted over unintelligible vocals.
“Are n’t you going to ask what sort of event we’re going to?” Vago asked with a smile.
“No,” Black said. “I don’t have much of a choice but to go. It doesn’t mean I have to care. ” She leaned in closer to him. “We’ve been here for almost three weeks, Vago. And while I appreciate your helping us, we are paying you back by assisting your lackeys with every shitty job you throw our way. Now you want to use me as arm candy to go to some gambling den or to make a public appearance at a pit-fight. But know this: my team and I are leaving. And we’re going to do it s oon.” She sat back and took another drink. “And if you try to stop us, you’re going to pay.”
Crown of Ash bs-4 Page 6
