Hours later, a gray fog bank rolled out of the north, enveloping Dauntless. Simon stood on deck and stared at the swirling mass that seemed to disappear right before it enveloped the ship. But he knew that to anyone fifty feet or more away the ship would have been invisible.
As they neared the coastline, still using the sails so the diesel engines wouldn’t alert any creature that might be patrolling, Simon searched the roiling darkness. Patel had warned them that roving parties of the “aliens” hunted survivors as well as ships’ crews brave enough to come looking for them.
Simon held a .50-cal Barrett sniper rifle with an eleven-round clip. He wished he had one of the Templar weapons he’d trained with. Headed into battle, he was more accustomed to a pistol and a sword than a rifle.
Patel had control of the ship, handling the wheel with ease. He was stern and hard in the darkness, and occasionally the moon shined down through the fog to paint his features.
A few minutes later, one of the men called out when he spotted land.
Staring at the craggy shoreline, Simon’s gut clenched. Waves of cool air and warm air drifted over him, which was why the fog was so thick. He took a fresh grip on the rifle.
At Patel’s order, the crew furled the sails and they dropped anchor less than twenty feet from the shore. Dauntless had a shallow enough draw that they didn’t touch bottom.
A weak yellow light flickered in the darkness.
“There,” one of Patel’s crew whispered hoarsely.
“I see it.” Patel left the wheel in the hands of another man, then went forward to the ship’s prow. “I’m Captain Patel, of Dauntless. We’re taking on refugees.”
A small group of men, women, and children stepped out of the darkness and stood as shadows along the shoreline. “Thank you for coming, captain,” a man called out. “We’d about given up. There’s talk that the demons killed all of the men brave enough to cross the Channel.”
“Not all of us,” Patel said. “How many are you?”
“Nineteen, sir. We’ve got five children.”
“I can take sixty. Are there any others about?”
“They’re scattered up along the coast, captain. Every day the demons’ numbers grow. They hunt us constantly.”
“Let’s get you aboard. We’ll sort out what direction we want to go later.” Patel turned back to his crew and gave out orders. He crossed to Simon and Leah. “You have a choice to make, Mr. Cross, Miss Creasey. You can journey with us a while longer, or you can get out here. I don’t need the space yet.”
“I’m going to take my chances here,” Simon said. “If the demons haven’t found these people yet, then perhaps it’s safe enough for now.”
“All right. Miss Creasey?”
“I’ll stay.”
“Help us get these people aboard, then I’ll see to it you’re provisioned as we agreed.”
Simon helped row an inflatable dinghy to shore, then tied a rope to one of the nearby trees. Shouldering the rifle, his senses alert to the night around them, he helped load the dinghy with the survivors.
He was appalled at their condition. It was easy to see that they hadn’t been eating or resting enough. Even the children looked haggard and hollow-eyed, more like stick-people than humans.
The first group in the dinghy was quickly pulled in to Dauntless and helped aboard. Then the dinghy was pulled back by rope and the second group was loaded, leaving only three men on the shore with the security crew Patel had established.
The demons attacked without warning.
Simon felt them there in the darkness before he saw them. Wheeling around to face the thick copse of trees just back of the shoreline, he saw moonlight set fire to a half-dozen pairs of yellow eyes.
Then the demons vaulted into motion, hurling themselves through the trees without a sound. They were only vaguely humanoid, bipedal, but with tree trunk-like arms and legs and powerful bodies. Their heads were too large for their bodies, but they moved sinuously all the same. Three thick projections flared out from the top of the head and a circle of six eyes flared around a central orb.
Darkspawn. Simon recognized them at once from his lessons. They were Primus caste, driven by curiosity.
Simon didn’t bother yelling a warning. He lifted the .50-cal rifle to his shoulder, aimed by instinct, and fired. The heavy rifle thundered and the blowback from the blast hit him in a wave of warm air. His bullet sped true, though, slamming into the center mass of his target.
The Darkspawn tumbled back, hissing in outrage as it went down. Bright green blood showed in the center of its chest. It flailed its arms and pushed itself to its feet.
Squeezing the trigger again and again, Simon hit the Darkspawn twice more. One of the bullets actually shattered one of the spikes protruding from the Darkspawn’s massive head. But it wasn’t dead. It pulled out a weapon, threw its hand forward, and fired.
A beam of violet heat blazed by Simon’s head. If he hadn’t been in motion, the beam would have taken his head off.
Men screamed in pain as some of Patel’s crew met their deaths.
Simon ran behind the three survivors still on shore. He shoved them toward the water. “Swim! Now!” He considered jumping into the water, but he knew that they’d have no chance.
The three survivors ran into the water and started swimming when they couldn’t run anymore.
Leah, Simon was surprised to see, had already dropped to one knee and brought up the H&K MP-5 machine pistol Patel had equipped her with. She fired in controlled three-round bursts. He’d expected to see her frozen in fear.
Or dead.
Even though she was still alive, even though she was still fighting, Simon didn’t expect either of them would live through the next few minutes. Only two of Patel’s shore party remained. One
