The Night of the Swarm

Lunja was out there in the water, leading the swimmers, for she was the strongest of them all. After the Promise launched the lifeboat, she had swum near them and rested a hand on the gunwale.

‘We are nearly all in our harnesses,’ she had said. ‘And we have knives. If any of us should get entangled in the reefs we will cut ourselves free so that the others may go on, and tie on again when we can.’

‘The spare ropes are already secured,’ said Hercol. Take every care, Sergeant! The dangers may not all be from above.’

‘Whatever happens to us,’ said Ramachni, ‘you must see the Nilstone aboard. Its power would continue to flow to the Swarm of Night from the floor of the bay, or for that matter the deepest trench in the Ruling Sea.’

‘I understand,’ said Lunja. ‘Farewell for now.’ Still she had hesitated. Then Thasha had realised that she was looking at Neeps. The tarboy was gazing at her wordlessly; his breath seemed caught in his throat. He leaned closer, but in that moment Lunja turned and vanished in the darkness. Only when she was gone had Neeps managed to speak her name.

Now a little light glowed behind them in the east. They were almost within the bay. Once there the dlomu could pull in a straight line for the Chathrand for one more unobstructed mile — and the guardians of Stath Balfyr, with any luck, would be powerless to stop them.

There came a hard thump near the bow. ‘Upa, that was no reef,’ hissed Pazel. ‘Something just smacked into us, by Rin.’

‘We are nearly out of the coral,’ said Hercol. ‘Stand by oars — let us give the swimmers all the help we can. Steady, steady. . now.’

Two sets of oars plunged into the water. Neeps was left the job of holding the Nilstone, while Ramachni kept watch upon the bow. ‘Pull!’ he urged. ‘The light is growing, and we are still too near the shore.’

Suddenly Lunja’s head broke the surface next to them, along with those of two other dlomu. ‘That reef was like a forest of blades,’ she said. ‘Many of us are bleeding, and some of the ropes have been cut. I fear we did not bring enough spares.’

It was then that the cry broke out: a strange trumpeting noise, strident and huge. It began on the clifftops, but was soon taken up on the north shore, which was much nearer the boat.

‘Away, away!’ cried Hercol. ‘They have seen us!’

Lunja and her two companions seized the spare ropes coiled on the bow and vanished ahead. Thasha looked at the cliffs: the shadows of the boulders appeared to have multiplied.

The trumpeting grew louder. From the north shore there came a sound of crashing and breaking limbs, as though some great herd of animals was stampeding through the forest. Then a great concussive boom sounded on their left. Spray struck their faces, and a wave lifted and rolled the boat precariously. ‘They’ve started with the rocks!’ said Neeps. ‘Say your prettiest prayers that we’re out of range. Upa! Their aim’s improving! Can’t you blary row any faster?’

Thasha wanted to kick him, but she did row faster. Then she heard Bolutu gasp. He was looking at the northern shore.

In the half-light, a pale strip of sand glowed between the trees and the water, and crossing it were twenty or thirty of the largest animals Thasha had ever seen. They were shaped like buffalo, or bulls, and yet not quite like either, and they stood almost as tall as the trees themselves.

‘Pull!’ cried Ramachni. ‘Pull for you lives! Those are drachnars, and they are the ones hurling the stones!’

The beasts were thundering into the water. Not buffalo: they were more like elephants, great shaggy elephants that would have dwarfed any specimen in a Northern zoo. The great ogress they had fought in the mountains would scarcely have reached the shoulder of one of these. But they were not elephants either — not quite. The mouths were like shovels, with great flat incisors on the lower jaw. The trunks were much thicker and stronger than elephant trunks, and strangest of all, they divided into three halfway down their length. Yes, she thought: those trunks could grasp boulders, and hurl them. And if they could manage boulders, why not-

‘Look out! Look out!’

A palm tree struck the water like a spear, not five yards away. The boat rocked wildly. Thasha rowed with all her might. She could see now that many of the creatures were grasping logs or stones that they had dragged out of the forest, and some were already rearing up to hurl them. Others were still wading into the bay. They had come several hundreds yards already, and the water was not yet to their necks.

‘Halfway!’ said Ramachni. Pain seering Thasha’s arms, her shoulders. On the ship, lamps blazed. Thasha could hear screeching — Oggosk’s screeching; had she ever imagined she could miss it? — and the rattle of davit-chains. The drachnars pelted them with whatever they could scavenge — old logs, young trees, even the remains of some other wreck. But the dlomu were swimming in formation, now, and pulling like a team, and soon the north shore fell behind them, and they were out of range.

Then Niriviel swept down out of the sky. ‘I could not warn you,’ he cried, hovering. ‘Those creatures have never emerged by daylight. We did not know what we faced.’

‘Never mind,’ shouted Hercol. ‘But tell us, brother, has Fiffengurt prepared the ship? Is she ready for the Ruling Sea?’

‘The Ruling Sea!’ cried Niriviel. ‘You do not know what you are saying. The crawly lunatics will never let us depart. Can you not see them, riding on the heads of the monsters ashore?’

‘Riding them!’ said Ramachni. ‘Well, there is the secret of Stath Balfyr’s defences: the ixchel have tamed the drachnars, or at least allied with them to fight intruders. No, falcon, our eyes cannot match your own. But hurry, now: back to the Chathrand. Tell Fiffengurt to start weighing anchor, if he has not begun already.’

‘I will tell him,’ said Niriviel, ‘but there is no way out of this bay.’

The falcon departed. Pazel glanced over his shoulder at the Chathrand, caught Thasha’s eye, and forced himself to smile. Whatever lay ahead, they were almost home.

Two of the dlomic swimmers returned to the boat. They were clearly weakened, and once aboard Thasha saw that they were bleeding from many spots. ‘Bandages, Undrabust!’ shouted Hercol. ‘You two: are no others hurt?’

‘How could we know?’ they said. ‘In dark water it is hard to judge your own wounds, let alone someone else’s. But Lunja must have had the worst of it, for she led us through that coral maze.’

‘Then she should come in!’ cried Neeps.

‘So we told her. But she paid no attention.’

‘The Chathrand is lowering a skiff,’ said Ramachni, gazing ahead. ‘We must see the wounded aboard first — and then the Nilstone, and Thasha. Pazel, you must go too, since Erithusme bid you escort her, and — Oh fiends beneath us, no!’

On either side of the boat, dark fins sliced the water. They were sharks: the same grey, man-sized creatures that had trailed the serpent off Cape Lasung. But these sharks were not following any serpent. They were following blood.

Everyone in the boat howled a warning. Someone among the swimmers must have heard, for they all broke formation, and then began to pull for their lives.

‘They’ll be slaughtered!’ cried Neeps. Hercol stood and raised his bow.

‘Put that away, are you mad?’ cried Ramachni, leaping onto the prow. ‘Cut the swimmers free, and row on!’ With that the little mink launched himself from the prow, and took owl-form before his body could strike the waves.

Hercol drew his knife and slashed at the ropes. He was leaning far over the prow, and Thasha clung desperately to his belt, terrified that he too would fall among the sharks.

‘Who’s that one, what’s he doing?’ cried Pazel.

Thasha squinted: one of the dlomu was peeling away from the rest — and the sharks were following. As they had done off Lasung, the creatures hunted in a tight school that never divided. It seemed that terror had overcome one swimmer, who must have expected the sharks to follow the larger group. But who knew how that collective