Chris Wooding - The Black Lung Captain

Besides, Hodd reminded Crake of himself, and Crake hated that.

Crake had been that way, once. A life of privilege, sheltered from trouble by his father's money. Mixing only with his own kind. He treated lowlier folk with politeness because that was what people with good breeding did, but they weren't the same as him. He couldn't have said why, and he'd never have admitted it aloud, but they just weren't.

It had been the discovery of daemonism at university which had prompted his awakening. Before long, he'd grown bored with the vacant twitterings of the social classes. While they were talking about mergers and marriages, inheritances and infidelities, he'd been communicating with entities from another dimension. In the face of that, their preoccupations seemed rather juvenile.

But he'd still possessed the arrogance of the aristocracy. The knowledge that no matter what he did, he'd never not be rich. Whatever trouble he got into, someone would look after him.

Maybe that was why he did what he did. He'd not known what sorrow or torment or hardship meant until then. But he learned those lessons well in the time that followed.

'Right,' said Hodd, clapping his hands. 'Are we all ready?'

Belts were tightened, coats buttoned, bootlaces tied and retied. Pinn took a few test steps to check the weight of his pack.

'Off we go, then!' Hodd cried.

'Where are we headed?' Jez asked.

That stumped Hodd for a moment. 'Er ... to the crashed Azryx aircra—'

'No, I mean . . . Don't you have a map? Directions?' Jez asked. 'You said it would be over a day's walk. I just wondered how you were intending to find it again.' She looked around the group and shrugged. 'Sorry. Navigator. I just want to know.'

Hodd smiled broadly and tapped his head. 'It's all in here, Miss.'

'You remember the way,' Jez said, doubtfully. She eyed the forested flanks of the mountains that surrounded them. 'Are you sure? Once we're in there, we'll get pretty badly lost if you're wrong.'

'Be assured, I never forget a route,' he said. 'I've possessed a rather remarkable talent for pathfinding ever since I was a child. It was what inspired me to be an explorer, actually.'

'And what did Daddy think about that?' Crake asked, and immediately regretted it. He didn't want to have a conversation with this buffoon, but he'd been unable to resist a bitter jibe. It had just come out.

Hodd missed Crake's tone and the implied insult entirely. 'He was rather disappointed, actually,' he said, looking downcast. 'My father sits in the House of Chancellors for the Duchy of Rabban, and my six brothers all work in the field of law. But I had a different calling.'

'An explorer,' said Crake. 'So I see. Ever found anything?' Frey gave him a look, but he ignored it.

'Well, not anything that you'd see on the front page of the broadsheets, but I have led many expeditions to far-flung places, and contributed valuable knowledge in the fields of—'

'And how many people have you lost on your expeditions? Aside from your entire team the last time you were here?'

Hodd looked wounded, unable to understand the source of this sudden hostility. 'Sir, I don't know what I might have done to offend you, but—'

'Do you even know? Crake asked. The fury exploded from nowhere. Suddenly he was red-faced and shouting. 'Do you even know how many porters and pilots and natives died while you were playing explorer with your daddy's money? How many people?'

The group stared at Crake, shocked. Hodd had gone pale. He looked to Grist, as if the burly captain might defend him.

'Crake,' murmured Jez. 'Leave it alone.'

'People like him!' Crake snorted. 'Other people die for their dreams of glory. It won't be him that gets killed in there.'

'Now, now,' said Grist, raising his hands. 'Let's all play nice, hmm? We all trust Mr Hodd when he says he's goin' to lead us to great treasure.' He put his arm round Hodd and gave him a menacing squeeze. "Cause he knows what'll happen if he don't.'

The explorer grinned nervously. 'It's that way,' he said, pointing. With a few odd looks at Crake, they began to shuffle off towards the forest. Jez gave him a sympathetic glance and then turned away. Crake shouldered his pack and followed her.

I wonder if I'll make it back alive , Crake thought.

He honestly couldn't bring himself to care.

The rain began in the afternoon. It came with considerable force.

Frey had been rained on before, but this was up there with the best of them. Leaves and branches bowed and rocked under the onslaught. A wet mist gathered in the air until it was hard to see anything more than a half-dozen metres away. The forest filled with the hiss of falling water and the hoots and screeches of excited animals in the treetops.

What little good cheer had attended their departure rapidly disappeared. They trudged along in single file, wishing they were anywhere but here. Pinn, walking ahead of Frey, kept up a constant stream of grumbling. The ground had turned to a quagmire, and was attempting to suck their boots off their feet with every step. Their coats had soaked through. Previously warm underlayers were now damp and freezing. Frey could only hope that Crake's equipment was wrapped up better than they were.

The only person who seemed to be having a good time was Hodd.

'Spit and blood, I've missed this place!' he cried, then laughed and shook his fist towards the leafy heavens. 'Cruel nature, do your worst!'

Frey saw Pinn's hand twitch towards his pistol, and grabbed his wrist before he could do anything rash.

'Can't I kill him just a little bit?' Pinn whined.

'He's the only one who knows the way back, Pinn. We need him to get us out of here when we're done.'

Pinn thought about that for a moment. 'Alright, Cap'n.' He poked one stubby finger at Frey. 'But I'm doing this for you, okay?'

'Appreciate it,' said Frey. Up ahead, Hodd began to sing a marching tune, loud and off-key. Pinn gritted his teeth.

'I can't take much more, Cap'n,' he said.

Frey sighed, then pushed his way up the line to Hodd.

Hodd was punching the air lustily. ' Oh, brave and strident sol-diers, whose cou-rage none can — Oh! Hello, Captain Frey.'

Frey nodded in greeting, and leaned close as they walked. 'You've heard of the monsters that are rumoured to infest this island, Hodd?'

'Oh, yes!' said Hodd. 'I've seen several, in fact. One of them damn near had me for breakfast.'

'You've seen several,' Frey repeated. 'That's good. Did you see if they had ears?'

Hodd looked bewildered. 'Ears?'

'The singing, Hodd. Will you bloody can it? They can hear you five kloms away.'

'Ah!' said Hodd. 'Yes, I see. Quite right, Captain. Just trying to keep up morale.'

'And you're doing a fine job,' said Frey. 'Just do it quietly, eh?'

Hodd put a theatrical finger to his lips. Frey turned away, eyes rolling skyward, and moved back down the line. Grist gave him a smoky grin around the butt of his cigar and Frey fell into step next to him.

'Bit of a character, ain't he?' Grist said.

'You know, the animals will smell that cigar all over the mountain, too.'

'Risk I'm willing to take, Frey. A life without cigars ain't one much worth livin', if you ask me.' He started to laugh but ended up in a coughing fit that had him bent double. When he was done, he stood up and wiped spittle from his beard. He regarded his cigar with a teary eye. 'Tobacco. She's a harsh mistress.'

'We've all got our vices,' said Frey.

'Aye? What's yours?'

'I've plenty. But I reckon Rake tops the list.'

'A card player, eh? My men are partial to a game, but me? I'm no gambler. Don't have the luck.'

'It's not luck.'

'Well, whatever it is, I ain't got it.'