Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“Watch the leaders,” warned Balavere. “If they come it’ll be in a curve.”

There was no point in holding your breath. Might freeze if you didn’t keep it moving. The ship moved on, quiet, with the rustle of a hundred pairs of wings drumming against the wind and the creak of spars and sail.

A hatch opened. Colette du Kane walked halfway out.

“When is something going to hap—?” She happened to look skyward, saw the mass of circling demons. One hysterical scream.

“ Trinska !” cursed Hunnar. “They might have lost interest!”

Colette screamed again.

September suddenly shouted, “Ware zenith!” in Terranglo, hurriedly translated it into Trannish as a single line of gutorrbyn folded their wings, dipped to their right, and dove for the isolated frozen figure on deck.

“Loose, loose!” screamed Hunnar at the archers. Bows began to sputter.

Nearly as big as a man and twice as powerful, one of the monsters crumpled to the deck not a meter from Ethan. He thought he heard the neck snap when the creature hit the planking. It had three arrows imbedded in its chest.

Colette had apparently recovered her senses. Ethan heard the hatch cover slam shut. He didn’t see it because teeth flashed suddenly in front of his face and there was a clack like a beartrap. He slashed half-blindly with his sword, felt it bite something soft. There was a hoarse giant-rat scream and a sticky substance covered his bare wrist. A foul, fetid odor assailed his nostrils. Then it was gone and his sword was free.

It was hard to tell the screams of tran from dragon. He swam through an alien nightmare of blood and teeth. He saw one dragon skimming low over the ice, the limp corpse of a sailor firmly caught in its talons. Once the toothed maw dipped low, slashed almost indifferently at the lolling head.

Dead gutorrbyn bodies matted the clean wood. Small bunches of spearmen kept the attackers away while protected archers took a terrible toll among them.

A wounded dragon flashed by, screaming, and smashed into the ice below. It was feathered with arrows. Ethan spun, cut at a spinning, snapping horror that dove at his back. He ducked, and another pair of claws missed his head by centimeters, their owner shrieking in frustration. It backed air, started to pull up for a turn over the deck.

Something slammed it violently sideways and it crashed into a mast. Ethan now could see that a fair proportion of the mounting pile of dragon-corpses on deck were studded with short, thick darts. He spared a glance upward.

Wicker cages were bound at the top of each towering mast to protect lookouts from the wind. Now they served a pair of crossbowmen in each. They’d kept still until the fight was joined. Now they were beginning to make their presence felt, picking off the gutorrbyn below and those crawling in the rigging. In the confusion, none of the dragons looked to find where the stubby, deadly bolts were coming from. They dropped in pairs and threes, now.

Ethan thrust his sword forward again, but by now there was little to strike at. Screeching defiance, the remnant of the fatally mauled flock abruptly lifted with the wind and shot away to the westward.

Panting heavily, he walked over to where Hunnar was trying to bind up the arm of a badly gashed spearman.

“Well, we beat them off, Sir. How are our casualties?”

“There might be more, but we seem to have lost only one man and have few enough wounded. Again the wizard’s magic has served well.”

“That, and perhaps another,” said Ta-hoding. Their captain had spent the battle huddled alongside Hunnar, jabbing occasionally with his sword while expending most of his energy in imprecating his ancestors for getting him into this trouble. As a result, only his ego was scratched.

Now he was standing at the rail, staring at the northern horizon. “Tis long til night, yet darkness comes. Have you noticed, sirs?” Ethan hadn’t. Frankly, he couldn’t see much difference in the light even now.

But Hunnar apparently saw, as had Ta-hoding. “You are right, captain.”

September came over. “What’s all this about, now? Another attack? Good thing those beasties aren’t very bright. They could have picked us off neatly with a little thought.”

“I don’t know, Skua,” Ethan confessed. “Ta-hoding and Hunnar seem concerned about something in the light.”

“Not the light, noble sirs,” said Ta-hoding. “Look there, to the west a little more.” The two humans did so. “There, the Rifs!”

Now Ethan saw. A great dark cloud was just barely beginning to crawl over the stark horizon. Its front sparkled and flashed like the visible pulse of some huge animal. And the sky did seem to dim slightly.

“It comes early,” intoned Hunnar. “I wondered at seeing gutorrbyn come out of the north. Usually they move with the wind or into it. Clearly our flock was driven south.”

“Meaning we didn’t beat them off, then?” asked September.

“No, Sir Skua. I suspect they fought as long as they did only out of strong hunger. They’ve probably been running before that for some time. Now they are forced to try and cross to the west before the Rifs reaches them.”

Above, sails snapped and buffeted the masts, flailed uncertainly against spars in the unfamiliar cross-winds.

“We’ll have to turn further south and run before it as much as we can,” said Hunnar. “If we can stay well enough west it might even be a help… if everything holds together.”

“Good sir,” began Ta-hoding nervously, “I would recommend instead—”

“And we’ll reef in as much sail as you deem wise, good captain…”

Ta-hoding relaxed slightly.

“… less ten percent additional which I will order on, for I suspect you may value your hide above the swiftest completion of our journey.”

“You do me a terrible disrespect, noble sir, for in truth I would gladly sacrifice my poor self to insure that the honored and glorious friends of—”

“Enough, enough!” said Hunnar disgustedly, but without malice. “See to your sails and not platitudes, captain, and quickly!”

Ethan looked back at the cloud. It had doubled in size and was rapidly dominating the entire horizon, swallowing light and blue sky at a furious rate. He started forward.

“Going below, young feller-me-lad?”

“No!” Ethan was shocked at the vehemence of his response. But the big man’s words had been just a mite patronizing. Maybe he wasn’t ready for dancing atop the mainmast, but by Rothschild, he could damn well stay topside and take a little storm!

Hellespont du Kane surveyed the deck, left the hatchway, and strolled over. Ethan didn’t much feel like talking to the financier, but courtesy was part of his character. Besides, he might have a chance to make use of his famous acquaintance one day—if he ever thawed out.

Du Kane nudged one of the dragon-corpses that hadn’t yet been reached by the clean-up crew. Probably estimating its potential price per kilo on the interstellar marketplace, thought Ethan drily.

“Is it over, then, Mr. Fortune?”

“That much of it is,” Ethan replied, trying hard not to be brusque. “However, it appears that we are in for a mild blow. I suggest you go below and tie down anything you don’t want banged about.”

“Only my daughter, and she can take care of herself.” Was that line for real, or was du Kane playing straight? The perpetual poker face gave no clue. “The Rifs, then.”

“You know about them?” said Ethan, a little surprised.

“Oh yes, I shall remain on deck to absorb the experience. If you’ve no objection?”

“I? Object?” He’d enjoy seeing this stuffed shirt scramble for safety when the first strong gust struck. “Be glad of your company.”