Black Halo

nothing.

Not loud enough to convince Kataria.

Thirty-One

SUBTLETY IS FOR THE DEAD

I was supposed to have given this up …

There was no doubt in his step as he darted low under a wild swing from a purple arm, shoving his blade up into purple skin, stared up into a purple face. The light leaked out of her white eyes in swift order, the last moments of her life spent spewing a blood-slurred curse from her teeth before she collapsed to the deck of the ship.

Wasn’t I?

‘Unique circumstances.’

He felt his hands driven of their own accord, twisting the blade inside her to extinguish the last sparks.

You’re not supposed to be so chatty, either.

‘You’re supposed to deny us more powerfully.’

And yet …

‘Clarity is a wonderful thing. Behind you.’

‘QAI ZHOTH!’

He whirled and saw the pair of longfaces charging. While he might not have heard Dreadaeleon’s arcane verse over their war cry, he certainly heard the roaring crackle of fire that followed. A great red plume preceded the boy like a herald as he strode forward, arm outstretched to sweep his fiery harbinger over the pair. They writhed, shrieking as they attempted to press forward, then fall back, before they simply fell, blackened and smoking.

‘Nice work,’ Lenk remarked.

‘Well, I do it all for your approval,’ Dreadaeleon replied, panting. ‘This wasn’t a good idea. I’m strong enough to do that, but not for much longer. Not without …’ He glanced at Lenk, then grunted. ‘We should have opted for another strategy.’

‘The other strategy was to leave Kat and Asper to die.’

‘We could have tried something else. Subtlety, perhaps.’

‘We are a pubescent magic-spewing freak, a man with a disembodied screaming head and four hundred pounds of angry reptile. What about that suggests “subtlety” to you?’

A thunder of boots rumbled through the ship’s black hull; alien war cries rose through the planks of the deck. At the bow of the ship, the purple shapes of the netherlings began to emerge from the shadows of a companionway.

The shriek that met theirs was shrill and terrified.

A green shape came hurtling over Lenk’s shoulder like a scaly meteor, colliding with the lead longface with a resounding cracking sound. She collapsed into her companions as Togu, bound and squealing, rebounded from her chest and rolled along the deck.

Lenk had wondered why Gariath had insisted on bringing him along up until now.

Gariath followed, charged on all fours, complementing Togu’s strike with one from his own horns. He struck the longface’s purple torso, rose to his feet and continued to press her back into her fellows, choking their rush in the companionway’s darkened throat.

‘Five hundred pounds, maybe. He’s looking healthy today,’ Lenk said, cringing at the flurry of claws and teeth and noting the wisdom in keeping his distance. ‘Subtlety is where Denaos comes in.’

‘Pointless,’ Dreadaeleon muttered. ‘The moment the heretic even looks at him sideways, he’s dead and we’ll follow. Did you not see what he can do? What he did?’

‘I saw,’ Lenk replied. ‘If I was duly frightened of everything that makes you faint, however, I’d never get anything done. This is the only chance we have.’ He shoved the boy forward. ‘Now, do something useful.’

The boy’s eyes narrowed and, whether because of Lenk’s command or in spite of it, blossomed with crimson light. He swept his hands toward the companionway, the fire in his palms blooming with the murmur from his mouth. He placed them both upon the deck and, with a resounding word, sent serpentine flame racing to meet in the companionway and erect a wall of crackling orange to segregate the dragonman and the netherlings.

Gariath stared at the sudden obstacle with undue contemplation, as though wondering whether to leap through the fire and continue the assault or perhaps just break Dreadaeleon’s hands to bring it down first.

Lenk was more prepared for either of those than to see the dragonman reach down, scoop up Togu’s bound form, and drag him back with unnerving patience. At Lenk’s apparent surprise, he shrugged.

‘I’ve killed a lot so far,’ he said. ‘I can wait for a few more.’

‘The point is not to kill them,’ Lenk replied, ‘but to distract them until Denaos can do what he needs to.’ He glanced over the edge of the ship. ‘Then we leap off, reunite with Hongwe and paddle off before anyone can kill us.’ He glanced to Togu, wide-eyed and squealing behind a gag. ‘What’d you bring him for, anyway?’

‘He caused this, as you say. He should see it to the end,’ the dragonman replied. ‘The end being that you all die, of course.’

‘Not you?’

‘Not yet.’

‘You seem in good spirits. How have you been, anyway?’

‘Not dead yet.’

‘Nor us.’

‘Yet.’

‘Right, yet. It’s a bit strange to see you so enthusiastic.’

‘I could leave, if you want.’

‘Not yet.’

Gariath said nothing in reply, sweeping his gaze up and down the ship. Aside from Dreadaeleon’s murmuring chant holding the flames up and the netherlings back, the deck was quiet from companionway to the looming cabin at the ship’s stern.

‘And you’re waiting for what?’

It happened in an instant. Sound died, wary of being heard. Clouds covered the moon, terrified to be seen. Pressure settled over the deck as the sky sank low and tried to hide beneath the sea.

‘That,’ Lenk whispered.

Dreadaeleon’s voice was choked from him, his chant and the flames it conjured extinguished in an instant. The netherlings emerged from the companionway slowly, all their bloodlust and hatred still present in their white stares, but restrained behind shields and nocked arrows.

Keeping baleful stares on the companions as they defensively backed up against the ship’s great mast, the netherlings filed out silently, uttering no more than a curse or growl as they took positions, surrounding their prey, but making no move to raise blade or draw bow. The yearning to do so was frighteningly plain on their faces, but they were restrained by some unheard command, a cautious calm settling over them that Lenk found unsettling.

He had seen this before.

‘Can I help you?’ a voice, deep and rolling, bade Lenk to turn.

Against the purple pillars of muscle and iron that flanked him, the longface didn’t look too imposing at a glance. It didn’t take long for Lenk to become reacquainted with the eyes ablaze and the halo of black iron wrapped about Sheraptus’ brow, however. It took even less time for him to raise his sword cautiously and slip a hand to his belt and the burlap sack hanging from it.

‘If he’s got only one arm,’ Gariath whispered, ‘that will keep him busy, right?’

‘Yes, but-’

The dragonman didn’t wait. Hurling Togu at the long-face, he howled and fell to all fours, charging after the