whooped, yelled, and looked for another.
Using spears, ropes, boarding nets, grappling hooks, pikes, halberds and battle-axes, the pirates fought for life and liberty.
And won.
They won the first round, at any rate.
The deck was wet and slippery with ichor, blood, pulp, gore, mashed monsters, the unidentifiable remains of half a dozen men. Amputated tentacles writhed in the scuppers. Someone was floundering in the water, shouting. It was the soldier Scouse. How came he to be there? It mattered not: there was nothing anyone aboard could do for him. As they watched-
Most stopped watching, and, for those who did, the interest was soon terminated with the death of the unfortunate Scouse.
'Come with me,' said Miphon, finding Blackwood. 'Let's go below and venture to the bottle.'
'That's a good idea,' said Blackwood. 'I'm right out of arrows. There'll be more within.' And the pair departed.
The pirates had broken the first assault of the Swarms, killing upwards of a thousand monsters. The onsurge of horror-creatures died away to a dribble, then to nothing. A great cheer went up. But the battle was only beginning. Stalkers, glarz, keflos, granderglaws, green centipedes and other brutes began, as best they could, to paddle logs toward the
A centipede clinging to the end of a log, half in the water and half out of it, its water-wet half thrashing furiously, was an essentially ludicrous sight. Many of the creatures lost their grip, floundered briefly, then drowned in the oily darkness of the seas. But there was no shortage of replacements. And they were getting results.The logs were converging on the
'Now wind!' howled Arabin. 'Wind, for the love of mercy!'
But no wind came. The air was silent. Still. Dead. Even a thread of gossamer would have hung limp in such lifeless airs.'Bugger bugger bugger!' screamed Arabin.
And searched the horizons for signs of squall. He saw none such: but did see five winged creatures circling far, far overhead. He very much doubted that they were eagles. No: the Neversh were up there.
'Maybe we could catch them somehow,' muttered Arabin. 'Harness them to the ship so they'd pull us clear of this grabble of logs.'Could it be done?Somehow, he doubted it.
Drake, also looking up to the sombre oppression of the stormcloud skies, saw the Neversh, but made no comment on it lest he panic someone. With luck, the storm which threatened them would shortly break, scattering the Neversh. Otherwise, there was nothing they could do about the flying monsters. But surely there was something they could do about the logs converging on the ship. Once the Swarms had a hundred jump-off points instead of twenty, it would all be over for the
It was Zanya, in company with Miphon. The wizard still wore his feathered hat.
'Zanya!' said Drake, embracing her. 'What are you doing here?'
'Standing on the deck so my eyes can proof what Miphon's been telling me. He's been keeping me in touch.'
Drake kissed her. Light touch of lips against lips. Lumps on her lips. Blue lumps. Blue leprosy. What hope now of getting to Ling for a cure? He smelt patchouli on her skin.'Why perfume?' he said.
'Because I wanted to be my best for you. For. . .for the end. This is the end, isn't it?' She was starting to cry.
And Drake, by way of soothing, kissed her again. Then held her, held her close and held her tight. He remembered how he had first seen her, so many years ago, when he had been floating in the water bare-arse naked, a horizon away from Stokos, and she had been looking down from the deck of a xebec. And he remembered . . . other places, other times. Their best had been very good indeed. Yes. It had been worth it to have lived. But now … '
'Darling,' said Drake. 'The next attack is soon. Best you return to the bottle.''Are you coming?' said Zanya.'No,' said Drake.
He had already made up his mind. If the Swarms took the ship, anyone in the bottle would survive. But they would have to stay there, for to exit from the bottle would be death. He had no wish to survive as a prisoner forever. What kind of life was that? He had languished in too many dungeons to consign himself to another. Better to fight, yes, and make an ending.
'You must come!' said Zanya. 'You'll die if you stay out here!''Here is where I'm staying,' said Drake.
'Then I'll not go to the bottle either,' said Zanya. 'My end is soon. I know that much. If you end today, then – then so do I.'
Then she said no more, for she was weeping too much to speak. He held her close. Looked over her shoulder to Miphon. He could see no expression in the wizard's green eyes. Miphon seemed almost to have withdrawn from the world. The wizard had wisdom enough to know that their chances of survival were zero. They were doomed. The game was over.Drake, who had no such wisdom, said:'The death-stone?'
'We've been through that,' said Miphon, his voice so calm that it infuriated Drake. 'The ship would turn to stone. It would sink, surely.'
'And maybe it wouldn't!' said Drake. 'Maybe a stone ship can still float. How do we know till we try? Let's use the death-stone! At least we'd take more of these monsters with us!'
'It is hardly worth exciting false hopes amidst the crew at this stage,' said Miphon.'You're crazy, man!' said Drake.
Zanya wiped a snivel of misery from her nose, then sniffed, then said:
'What does it matter if the ship turns to stone? What does it matter if the ship sinks? The bottle would float. Wouldn't it? Float to land somewhere?'
'No, it wouldn't,' said Miphon. 'Blackwood once had occasion to throw a similar bottle into a tarn on the Scourside Coast. It sank immediately.'
'Tied to a man it wouldn't,' said Zanya. 'That man could use the death-stone, then-'
'Then the ship would sink, and we'd have one man afloat in the ocean fifty leagues from anywhere,' said Miphon. 'And the moment he used the ring to get inside the bottle, it would fall away to the bottom of the ocean. Everyone inside would then be trapped there for life – for if the ring-bearer ventured outside, the weight of ocean waters would kill him without pity.'
There was a scream from someone on deck. Drake looked round wildly and saw – a Neversh! It swooped low over the ship, its twin feeding spikes tearing into a sail. Then it was gone, flying low over the ocean, the sail dangling from its spikes.
Drake's heart was hammering. Of all the monsters, he feared the Neversh most of all. To be held by the grapple-hooks, to be pierced by the feeding spikes: he had had nightmares about that.
'Let two men stay outside,' Zanya said, not bothering to comment on the Neversh. 'One to keep the bottle afloat. The other to be ring-bearer. That way the bottle stays afloat.'
'Yes,' said Miphon. 'Then we have two men afloat in the water instead of one. And both fifty leagues from land! What good would that do?''The ring-bearer brings out a spar,' said Zanya.'There is no spar in the bottle,' said Miphon.
'But,' said Drake, in a moment of decision, 'there will be soon. Come! Let's find Jon Arabin!'
For Drake followed Zanya's reasoning, and saw what she was getting at. They could bring one spar out of the bottle, aye – so they could just as easily bring two. And planks. And hammer. And nails. And ropes. And sails. And a long bamboo for a mast of sorts.
'We can't go to Arabin!' said Miphon. 'We've led him to understand the red bottle stayed with Morgan Hearst in Estar. What will he say if he finds we've been lying?'
'Man, is it sudden death you're afraid of?' said Drake, drawing his sword. 'You'll find it here and now lest you come to your senses!''I yield,' said Miphon, 'to the judgment of your steel.'
'This is no time for fancy rhetoric,' said Drake. 'Do you mean you'll talk with Arabin, or do you mean you want your death on the instant?''We'll talk with Arabin,' said Miphon hastily.
Moments later, Drake was at Jon Arabin's side, with Miphon and Zanya in attendance. Jon Arabin looked
