Alexa Drey- the Gates of Striker Bay

by Ember Lane

  Pog was still considering his choice.

  We approached the mouth of a river. Glistening rhombus made up its eerie shoreline, with numerous flat, square shelves allowing the seawater to pool before spilling back, and sharp, vertical walls holding back the pushing tide. It was one of the strangest things I’d ever seen.

  The cuboid coast led us, like petals on a flower, toward a gently angling, darker stamen and tapering stalk that was, according to Billy, a river called Baase Anwin. It would be our route for a while, our vein into Ruse itself.

  “What do the words mean?” Faulk asked Billy.

  “Baase Anwin? Put simply, it means the River of Death. Why do you think we can enter unseen?” He chuckled. “No one lives to patrol it.”

  I could see his logic, even understand it, but as a plan, it kind of sucked. “Exactly what about it causes this death?”

  “Ah!” said Billy. “I’m glad you asked that because it’s best to be prepared. The river has its own peculiar set of monsters. There’s the bonefish, the razor turtle, ghostgator and so on, so forth. They all provide an interesting passage, but none really prepare you for the hug of the rock hydra. Of course, we may see some, or we may see none.”

  None would be good…

  “Rock hydra?”

  It didn’t sound too bad.

  Billy gazed over the bow. “Let’s just hope it's sleeping, dead, dormant, any of those things, really. Best to call everyone up. We’ll adjust the yacht a little, so if you all need to fight, you’ve got the room.” He winked at me. “Have you got that fire in your belly? The one that danger ignites. I envy you that. It’s been a while since I’ve felt it.”

  I had dread in my gut, ominous dread, conflicted dread. I was drawn to Ruse, enticed by its abundance of shadowmana, but revolted by its barren landscapes, its geometric sterility. But as with everything Billy-related, his actions threw up questions, and things niggled at my gut too.

  “If this is your route and it’s packed with all manner of monsters, how come you survived it solo?” I asked him.

  “Benefits of being me, my dear. I only came this way once while I was alive.” He shivered. “I was not crazy enough to do it again, barely escaped with my coattails. They don’t seem to bother me now.”

  “Why,” I asked, the question slipping out and already answered.

  “I’m dead.”

  “Dead-ish,” I reminded him with a smirk.

  I called below decks, enlisting the help of the others. Billy directed us from the stern, his cigar lit and his feet up and with Charlotte finally emerging and sitting by his side.

  First, we packed away the sails, stowing them under the deck. Then we detached the booms, dismantled the masts, and Faulk secured them to the yacht’s side, reinforcing them and creating some sturdy buffers. Ropes were coiled as anything loose was gathered up and stashed away. Billy then signaled us, telling us the oars were stowed under the galley walkway, and before we knew it, they were in place, outriggers and all, and we were ready to row upriver.

  While the yacht’s deck was slightly lower than its gunwales, and it even had small indents that could have been mistaken for seats, rowing was a challenge, to say the least. Billy protested that it was actually a backup that he had put in for emergencies, so just get on with it, but that didn’t really help.

  Much to his horror, Faulk had other ingenious ideas and set to work.

  First, the trapmaster reassigned some of Billy’s rosewood galley, stripping out its lining planks and bringing them above deck. He then made us sit. I occupied the seat closest to the bow, then Mezzerain and Sutech took two side by side and Pog and Faulk the rear two.

  It wasn’t that they didn’t love me, that wasn’t the reason I was on my own. It was a tactical choice. I had the ranged magic. If an attack was to come, we reasoned it would come from in front, so my position made perfect sense. At least, that’s what they told me, so I chose to believe it. Either way, I had to get used to leading, so why not now?

  For each of us, Faulk built up a small back that we could strain against, and blocks for our feet to stop them slipping and provide purchase. Billy winced as each plank was sawed and as each nail was driven into his yacht’s deck.

  “A morning’s rowing? Is this all really necessary?” he lamented over and over.

  Charlotte appeared to be enjoying his discomfort. She had a mischievous streak.

  The result of Faulk’s endeavors was infinitely better, so we organized further. We rowed three one side, two on the other. Mezzerain and Sutech on one, both with their strength enhanced by their stones. Pog, Faulk, and me took the other, the extra oar hopefully compensating. We struck a rhythm, and Billy set a course for the River of Death’s estuary.

  It was quite unnerving suddenly facing the wrong way. Ruse lay behind me. Danger lurked over my shoulder unseen. I was exposed. Once I perfected my strokes and was able to subconsciously listen for Billy’s instruction, I sank into my meditation. Both my manas still cycled together, the pumping of my arms, the thrusting of my legs appearing to accelerate them around me, and that pleased me. I was gaining shadowmana still but no mana. That was now conspicuously static.

  But accumulation of mana wasn’t quite my aim.

  I pushed my awareness out, like I had before when I’d centered on the yacht, and looked all around. My sight gradually expanded in a sphere. While I could see little under in the murky water, I could tell we were currently free of danger. Billy hadn’t mentioned any threat from above, so I merely let my awareness note it. Pushing my sight farther along surface, I shoved it right up to the cubed shore of the V-shaped estuary and then along the river as far as it would stretch.

  Satisfied, I imagined my awareness resembled a scruffily ringed planet and now felt less exposed with my back turned to the danger. I also felt pretty delighted that I’d worked it all out myself.

  Billy stared at me, the gap between the others allowing him that luxury. He had something on his mind. It was like he was assessing me, appraising my intent. I wondered what his conclusions were, how far I’d come from that wide-eyed woman he’d first met. I felt the same inside. Not the same as the woman who sought salvation in a well’s bucket, but the same as the woman who’d rounded up waifs and strays in the toxic belts back on Earth. Few women had taken on that burden—fewer men. Like this place, danger was everywhere—had been everywhere.

  Thoughts of Earth made me homesick. Futile, I knew.

  Earth was gone.

  Pique was gone.

  Earth and Pique were one and the same. I had to accept that.

  Ultimately, we humans set the seeds for our own destruction, but now I was coming to the conclusion the AIs had finished us off.

  That conclusion threw up too many parallels here. I shut down those thoughts. Now was not the time.

  The first attack came soon after.

  A shoal, fluid, the shape of a torpedo, flashed under the boat. At first I thought nothing of it, just passing residents. At that point, I still didn’t quite get Ruse. The land had no goodness left.

  Like an exploding firework the shoal burst from the water raining down on us.

  As white as stripped bone, with huge eyes and a mouth filled with needlelike incisors, they fell on us. Faulk took the brunt, one latching on to his shoulder and twisting its neck in a bid to strip the trapmaster of his flesh. I screamed our alarm a second or two too late and pulled my oar in, standing, equipping my black knight's dagger and surging forward, smashing the things away as I tried desperately to help the struggling Faulk.

  Grabbing the bony thing attached to his shoulder, I stabbed it straight through the head, ripping the knife back, slitting it in two and ending it in an instant. Mezzerain was screaming something at me, two of the bonefish on him. The big man flapped around like he was swatting deadly wasps.

  “Magic!” he screamed as another wave of the fish arced over us, some falling on Pog, on Sutech, on us all.

  “But?” I cried back, not understanding.
Pain ripped through me as I took a spiteful bite to the side. Stabbing backward, I set a protection over the boat, my new arcane shield, and at first it seemed to hold. I wrestled the fish from my side, casting a fast heal on myself with my light mana.

  Faulk was screaming again, spinning around blindly, two of the bonefish on him. I tackled him onto the deck, pinning him down to stop him struggling and then set about his aggressors. The knife made short work of them, like its cold, Ruseian blade was their nemesis rather than friend.

  Pog ripped another from his forearm, looking up at me as he gutted it easily. “They’re attacking Faulk first,” he said, his voice even, not a hint of emotion.

  “Why?” I screamed, pumping light mana into his wounds.

  “Ruse doesn’t need him,” Pog shouted back simply, clinically.

  Sutech brushed the last from his torso, his shirt barely torn, and Mezzerain stomped on the deck, finishing off the stragglers.

  Just as we settled, my shield failed.

  The bonefish came again. This time they didn’t bother hiding their intent. All fell on Faulk, snapping, biting at the trapmaster. Mezzerain and Sutech stood back to back and either side of him, fending off the beasts as best they could. Pog and I set about killing those who had already gotten through. Pog’s knives were a blur, the bonefish dispatched easily.

  “We’ve got to get him under!” Pog screamed as more fish broke through.

  I nodded, trying to increase the force of my shield at the same time.

  How were they getting through?

  We dragged him to the stern. Mezzerain and Sutech worked in harmony and forming a clear way through. Pog split off from helping me and fended off any fish that got between the two men. I dragged, and we eventually got the now limp trapmaster below decks. Quickly infusing him with some light mana, I jumped above deck and dropped the shield completely.

  They came then, and I was ready. I equipped my black knight's staff and began. I cast a flash of mixed mana, letting it radiate out, stunning a wave of the fish. Mezzerain went down as a half dozen focused on him. Pog was soon on him, aiding the big man. Sutech appeared to have the measure of them, ducking, weaving, striking with his scimitar-like sword, fish fencing.

  They thinned. We slaughtered them all, now focused and not worried about Faulk.

  I eventually sent out my awareness and could perceive no more.

  Pog tossed the last of Mezzerain’s attackers away and slumped back.

  “Easy,” he said.

  I could have punched him.

  Scooting back under the deck, Charlotte had laid out Faulk and was cleaning his many injuries. He looked like he’d been bashed all over with a razor-sharp tenderizer.

  “I can’t fight them,” she said with a shiver of regret. “I’ll be of more use against the undead. I promise.”

  “We survived,” I told her, sitting by Faulk and laying my hands on him, searching out deeper pain. I infused him with a little more mana, but he didn’t appear to be in mortal danger. “You got any whiskey? I like saving my lighter mana in case we really need it.”

  Faulk grunted. “Prefer whiskey anyway,” he muttered.

  “You go up. I’ve got this,” Charlotte told me.

  I mouthed my thanks. Up top I immediately squared up to Billy.

  “Do you know why my shield failed?” It was a challenge, not a question. I fancied he’d not told us something. His eyes shied away from my drilling gaze, telling me I knew I was right.

  “Did I not tell you?”

  “What?” I growled.

  “Things work differently here. Defense is not very effective. Ruse favors attacks.”

  Pog laughed, scooping up the last of the bonefish carcasses and tossing them overboard then scrubbing down the decks. “No defense buffs; nice twist.”

  “No,” Billy corrected. “Little defense at all. Bonefish are thick as flotsam and jetsam, yet they wormed their way through your shield in moments. Defensive magic doesn’t work here. Ruse despises the weak and the cautious.”

  “Would have been handy to know,” I snapped.

  Billy shrugged. “Never been a magic man. Kind of slipped my mind.” He tapped his long thumb against his chin. “Never been weak and cautious either.”

  We gathered all the oars back, sliding them along the deck before we sat and took stock. I estimated we’d traveled for barely an hour before the first attack. With no defense available, we’d have to adjust. First things first, though, I reinforced my awareness, this time as intensely as I could effectively muster.

  “We’ve got to change things up,” I said.

  Sutech was brushing himself off. He nodded. “That we have.”

  “Faulk has to stay below deck. He’s got no hope if they all attack him first,” Pog pointed out.

  “Faulk wanted to come. He gives his fair share of work and takes his portion of pain,” Mezzerain said. “We’ll put him closest to safety—he can have that. He gets the seat nearest the cabin. If he needs, he escapes. We’ve got two freeloaders as it is, can’t be having three.”

  “Freeloaders?” Billy raised his eyebrows. “Just who do you think keeps the yacht under control while you lot fight for your lives? I have a suggestion.”

  “What?” Mezzerain snapped.

  “Why don’t you mostly die, then they will leave you alone.”

  Billy howled.

  Mezzerain scowled.

  The pirate had a point.

  “I concur about Faulk,” Sutech said, breaking the tension. “But I also propose this. Mezzerain and Faulk make up a pair—closest to the cabin. Faulk must fight and with Mezzerain by his side he has more of a chance. Pog and I row together. We are both capable and can look out for each other as our fighting styles are similarly fast.”

  “With me up front,” I added, resigned to being alone again!

  “No, Alexa. We sacrifice a little time for safety. You focus on alerting us. You have ranged magic. While we are pulling the oars in, you can be attacking. This is my proposal. Discuss it, if you will, but I can see no better formation.”

  We had nothing to add.

  “Can Faulk row?” Pog asked.

  As if by design, Faulk emerged from the cabin. “I’ll pull my weight. That just took me by surprise, that’s all. Anyone got a shortish sword I can borrow? I’ve used one before, a long time ago.” He tapped his temple. “Faulk rarely forgets, though.”

  Pog produced a sword from his never-ending inventory and handed it to his friend. Faulk took a few practice swings that looked as fluid as molten rock. Mezzerain rolled his eyes, grabbing Faulk’s wrist and adjusting his grip. He led him through a few simple strokes, some defense, some attack. Faulk nodded his appreciation, parried, and thrusted a few times before appearing satisfied.

  “This part,” Mezzerain told him, indicating a small circle around his seat, “stick here, no matter what goes on. Defend this part and you’ve done your job.”

  Faulk nodded, lowering his eyes as if he accepted he was the weakest link. They all took their positions. Faulk slid his short sword between his feet and grabbed his oar. His remaining wounds were superficial. The slow ingress of my healing mana was gradually completing its work and hopefully he would be fully healed before the next, inevitable assault.

  We began rowing, and I picked out my path between them. My meditations were automatic now. I didn’t have to worry about them. My awareness was as before, but now I accepted all was dead in Baase Anwin. The River of Death had its name for a reason, and anything that moved was now our enemy.

  I made up my mind to stroll the deck from bow to stern and back. It was a relatively clear path if you discounted Mezzerain’s ranging elbows. If I sat, I might sink into my any number of my thoughts, my conundrums, but if I walked, I stayed alert like the guard I had been nominated to be. I could hold all else in abeyance.

  It wasn’t long before my awareness was tested again. This time the beast flitted in and out, taunting me, but I didn’t react and hoped my inaction woul
d lull it into a false sense of security. I received some minimal information about it this time.

  Slaughtower Swordfish

  No further information available

  “Billy, what do you know about a swordfish? We’ve got one nosing.”

  Billy shrugged. “Where there’s one, there’s three or four. Normally six or so feet long. As the name suggests…”

  “Got a sword for a snout.”

  He clicked his fingers at me. “You got it.”

  I waited as we forged on, positioned now between the two pairs of rowers. My awareness was soon nudged again. I debated whether to equip a weapon but wanted my hands free to release my magic as fast as I could. Then came a large nudge, a probe, and like a ballista’s bolt, they shot toward us.

  “Incoming!” I screamed. “Four.”

  The swordfish broke the surface before the number was out of my mouth. I sent a gout of mixed magic on instinct, smashing into the leader. It exploded on impact, blasting the beast to bits. I sent another off, dancing out of the flying beast’s way as the bolt smashed into it, but it glanced off, the beast arcing over me, dipping its snout, and trying to snag my outstretched arm. Beside me, Mezzerain had discarded his oar and slid sideways, catching it with a nice sidestroke of his mighty blade. And then they were gone, slipping back into the water with barely a splash, and they left my sphere of awareness.

  We all breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Anyone hurt?” I asked, looking around to Pog and Sutech for the first time.

  “All good,” said Pog. “We both nicked it but no more.”

  “A tester,” Sutech said. “No more than that. They know our formation now.”

  I had the dreadful feeling he wasn’t far wrong.

  We waited, debating whether to begin rowing again. Before we came to a choice, they attacked again, this time from three different directions. This time I was ready. I faced the bow, knowing that one would break the choppy water first. Blasting it just as it left the surface then switching to my right, blasting that one as it rose a foot in the air. I spun to the stern, and I took that one out as it arced toward Mezzerain and Faulk, watching, satisfied, as its flesh strafed us.