The Walrus and the Warwolf

'Maybe they're near to death,' said Drake. 'They're just sitting there.'

'AH these creatures of the Swarms,' said Miphon, 'they're fairly quiet by night.'

'Aye,' said Drake. 'I remember. Man, when I went past Selzirk . . . yes, there were many, making as if they were asleep. But they were huge! These ones are only little.'

'So,' said Jon Arabin, 'we're in luck. We've only a batch of babies to contend with.'

He spoke in jest; he knew how serious the situation was.'What now?' said Drake.

'We arm ourselves properly,' said Jon Arabin. 'And we wait for dawn. And we pray for wind.''Ballast blocks,' said Drake, apropos of nothing. 'What?' said Jon Arabin.

'Ballast blocks, man. Bring them up from below. Sitting targets. Knock those turkeys off their logs. Do it by dark, they'll be much more trouble by day.''Aye,' said Jon Arabin. 'That's thinking!'

Much later, they had killed every creature of the Swarms within throwing distance of the ship. Meanwhile, the sky had begun to lighten.'Dawn is coming,' said Zim.'Tell me something I don't know,' said Drake.

'Sorry,' said Zim, 'but I don't know your father's name either.'And dodged away from a half-hearted cuff.

As dawn approached, sullen clouds rolled across the sky, driven by high-level winds. Down at sea-level, a deadly stillness persisted. By the growing light, they could see logs upon logs stretching away for leagues, patterning the sea so densely they were almost touching.On every log, a monster.

There must have been thousands of them. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands. A million, maybe. Drake, unable to make an exact estimate, knew this much for sure: the odds were lousy.

To his amazement, Drake realized that someone had got up on his hind legs and was making a speech. It was the soldier Scouse. Probably the man had been infected with heroism from associating with Morgan Hearst. This was what he was saying:

'Let's sell our lives dear, friends! Let's show them what we're made of! Now is our chance to meet the ancient enemy fist to fist, our chance to warray-''Screw speeches!' yelled Zim. 'How about some food?'

'Yes,' said Jon Arabin, loudly, cutting across Scouse's speech. 'Young Zim's spoken sense – albeit for the very first time in his life. Aye. Let's eat. The monsters will be stirring properly soon enough. Food in the gut, that's the story.'

The night's activities had thrown out the ship's routine so badly that no breakfast had been cooked. But hardtack was issued out, plus some oldish bread – hard stuff with a little green and grey mould starting to colonize it. And there was good stuff to wash it down: for every man, a dole of rum and black drop.

The darkening clouds had entirely covered the sky. But the Swarms knew it was dawn. The monsters were moving from log to log, converging on the good ship Dragon. Some lost their footing and drowned swiftly. But there were thousands more where those came from.

'Why so near-begaun with the liquor?' said Slagger Mulps, his voice loud in the sullen air. 'Drunk will serve us as well as sober.'

Jon Arabin was not so ready to abandon hope. But he judged that the battle would be joined before his crew had a chance to get drunk. So, rather than argue, he said:

'Aye, friend Walrus. You go below and organize us some more liquor.'Drake, meanwhile, went quietly to Miphon:'Can we use the death-stone?' he said.

'We could,' said Miphon. 'But what good would a stone ship do us?'

'Have you any other magic?' said Drake. 'Powers, spells, amulets and such?'

'None,' said Miphon. 'I was never very powerful as wizards go, and I lost most of my powers in – in an accident. But what difference would it make? The Swarms are many.'

'In very deed they're many,' said Drake, faking the reckless gaiety of suicidal courage. 'But are we not men?'

Some of them were, some were just boys. All knew they would most likely soon be dead.

Jon Arabin, for his part, did some mental arithmetic. The last year had been kind to him. He was five births in credit. A margin slim enough, but sufficient to satisfy his gods, who asked only that a man father as many people as he killed.And that a man plant a tree for every one he cut down.

It occurred to Jon Arabin that, somehow, he had never managed to get round to as much tree-planting as he should have. But surely that was of no importance.

The men had finished breakfast. They were waiting for the attack, and the waiting was hard. Jon Arabin decided to make a speech of his own to ease the silence. He wished he had the skill to produce some iron-worded oratory which would ring down through the ages, an inspiration to all who followed afterwards, and a monument to his own death.

Then he realized there was going to be nobody to record what was said. So it made no difference whether his speech was good or bad. They were doomed to vanish from the face of the sea – one more ship lost without trace.

'Gentlemen,' said Jon Arabin. 'Let's show them what we're made of.'

And, with that, he drew his falchion and raised it in salute. He looked fearless and heroic. But, in fact, he was starting to worry quite badly about all those trees he had never planted.'Look!' cried Zim.

And they looked where he was pointing, and saw a giant green centipede crawling up over the side of the ship.

'It's fate will be written with my grey-goose quill,' said Blackwood easily, nocking an arrow.

He sent the missile singing toward its target. The centipede, struck in the larboard eye, writhed in agony and fell overboard. Blackwood was pleased. But what could one man do against so many? After all, Blackwood had but twenty shafts remaining.'Where's this extra liquor?' said Zim.

But his question went unanswered. For, the moment he had spoken, purple lightning lacerated the heavens. Then came a roar of thunder, as if the sky had been shattered by earthquake. Then, again, the outlash of lightning. Again, thunder. Then, with a keening, high-pitched ululation, the monsters of the Swarms attacked the ship.

68

The Swarms: diverse creatures, monstrous and almost mindless, controlled from a distance by the Skull of the Deep South, a powerful entity based in the southern terror-lands. The fall of the Confederation of Wizards has allowed the Swarms to venture north of Drangsturm, conquering most of the western seaboard of the continent of Argan.Screaming, the Swarms attacked. They came in their thousands.

But only twenty logs were within monster-leap of the good ship Dragon, meaning the Swarms had only twenty avenues of attack. And there were three hundred men aboard.'Death is our destiny,' said Blackwood, grimly.And sent an arrow hissing to its target.

Lightning crackled across the sky. Thunder boomed. But still no wind. Still no rain.

'This no time to die,' said Whale Mike, sounding worried. ' I got wife and kids to look after.'

And he swung an oar. Thwapl The head of a monster exploded in a spray of gore and ichor.'Ahyak Rovac!' screamed Rolf Thelemite.

And plunged his sword into the underbelly of a scrabbling keflo as it tried to haul itself onto the deck of the ship.'Help me!' screamed Simp Fiche.

A glarz had swarmed over him, and was ripping him to pieces. 'Help!'

Ish Ulpin strode forward. But he was intercepted by a thing which looked like a walking thorn bush armed with a dozen sets of shears and a couple of scythes. Ish Ulpin killed it with the help of a couple of other bravos. But by that time Simp Fiche was dead, ravaged, torn to pieces.The glarz swarmed forward.

Ish Ulpin picked up a spare ballast block and hurled it so it fell square in the middle of the net-shaped body of the glarz. Trapped, it writhed and struggled – but could not get free.'We'll deal with you later,' said Ish Ulpin.

And went looking for a worthier foe.

'Die, Demon-spawn!' screamed Sully Yot, hurling ballast blocks at creatures which had leapt from logs to the Dragon's flank, and were trying to climb up to the deck.

T bet they don't even make good eating,' said Ika Thole gloomily, sinking his harpoon through alien armour.'Now!' screamed Bucks Cat.

A dozen men were with him, using a spar as a battering ram. They pulped a slow-footed monster, screamed,