Richard Byers - Queen of the Depths

A wisp of spider web enlarged without warning, snaring the men it engulfed in sticky cable. The arachnid at the center grew as well and, when it was as big as a cat, scuttled to bite the first of its prisoners. Straining, Anton managed to slip the cutlass through some of the mesh restraining him, and the preternaturally keen edge severed the gluey strands. He slashed himself free, cut once more, and split the spider’s eight-eyed mask just as it started to pounce at him.

It was all grueling, frantic, desperate work, and from a certain perspective, it was all inconsequential. Where were the rest of the enemy spellcasters? They were the chief threat, the adversaries the pirates truly needed to confront.

They reached the end of the lane running between two rows of low sheds and buildings, peeked out into the open space beyond, and at last Anton saw the Red Wizards.

The surviving Thayans were making a stand in a two-story limestone building like a small but well-fortified manor house. Soldiers shot crossbow bolts through arrow loops or, kneeling, from behind the battlements on the slate roof. The magicians lurked behind windows, popping into view just long enough to hurl bursts of fire and hammering hailstones at the corsairs laying siege to the place then ducking back out of sight.

The quarrels and flares of magic were taking a toll on the pirates. It was obvious they needed to break into the house and fight the Thayans at close quarters. But it was difficult when their enemies concentrated their attacks on anyone who sought to approach. Even when some daring soul did reach the side of the house, he found it impossible to kick in a door or pry open a shutter. Some charm evidently prevented it.

Tu’ala’keth, Kassur, and a couple of others had taken cover behind a big, forked-trunk tree at one corner of the battlefield. Chadrezzan wasn’t with them, though. Apparently, like Anton himself, he was late reaching the heart of the battle.

The priest and priestess of Fury chanted and swept their arms in mystic passes to no particular effect, as far as Anton could tell. Either they were attempting something subtle, or the enemy spellcasters were neutralizing their efforts.

Perhaps he and Tu’ala’keth together could think of an effective tactic. Crouching low, he ran toward her and the others, and the air ahead of him crackled and burned blue.

The shining haze coalesced into a trio of dark, long-legged creatures with streaming tails and manes. For an instant, Anton wondered if the Red Wizards had wasted a summoning spell on something as mundane and relatively harmless as horses. Then he noticed the pale, curved horns and glowing crimson eyes. The beasts were black unicorns, corrupted with a taint of demon blood, a prime example of the many abominations bred in Thay.

Plainly heeding an order to kill the clerics, the unicorns charged the group behind the tree. Anton sprinted after them, but wasn’t exceptionally concerned. Black unicorns were dangerous foes, but Tu’ala’keth’s magic, and Kassur’s, should suffice to fend the creatures off.

Then, however, wind howled. Anton could barely feel the disturbance in the air where he was, but it staggered the pirates behind the forked tree and ripped leaves spinning upward off the branches. Tu’ala’keth’s goggles jerked off her head and hurtled into the air as well.

It shouldn’t have mattered. The sunlight of the surface world couldn’t blind her in the middle of the night. But in the same instant the whirlwind died, as abruptly as it began, her face lit up like an ember fresh from a blazing fire. She pawed at her features as if she could wipe the glow away, but to no avail.

The black unicorns thundered nearer.

Help her! Anton thought. But as Kassur, brandishing his flickering spear, started to conjure, he backed away from her. No doubt he wanted to ensure that the defense he meant to create would shield only himself.

Tu’ala’keth must have mastered her panic, must have heard her attacker’s pounding approach, for at the last instant, she tried to spring out of the way. Even so, the black unicorn’s horn gored her side, spun her, and dropped her to the ground. The creature turned and reared to pulp her beneath its battering hooves.

Still Kassur made no attempt to aid her. It was Harl who rushed in, scimitar raised, interposing himself between the unicorn and its intended prey. He started to strike a blow, but the creature was faster, and the ore dropped with his head bashed to gory, lopsided ruin.

At least he’d distracted the unicorn long enough for Anton to close with it. He hoped to take the beast from behind and cut a leg out from under it before it knew he was there, but it must have heard or smelled him coming because it whirled to meet him.

He cut; gashed the equine’s flank; then twisted to the right when the pale, whorled horn drove at him. That put him in position for a chop at the unicorn’s neck, and he raised the cutlass to try. The beast’s horn suddenly glowed like crystal filled with tainted moonlight. It whipped its head sideways and bashed him in the chest with the luminous spike.

But it didn’t hit with the point, just the side of the shaft. It should have been a solid, bruising clout, but nothing worse. Alas, the supernatural force the unicorn had invoked amplified the power of the blow. It knocked Anton into the air and threw him several feet. He slammed down hard.

His chest burned, and he felt as if he couldn’t draw a breath. He had no idea how badly the attack had wounded him and had no time to worry about it either. The unicorn sprang after him and reared to hammer him with its hooves.

Anton tried to roll out of the way. For an instant that seemed to stretch out endlessly, he thought his abused body wouldn’t answer to his will, but then he broke through the paralysis that came with shock and flung himself to the side. The unicorn’s hooves slammed down mere inches away, pounding dents into the ground and flinging up bits of dirt.

He had to roll again before he could attempt to scramble to his feet. He was still straightening up when the black unicorn leaped at him, crimson eyes blazing, horn shining with another infusion of malefic power.

He needed another moment to settle into a balanced fighting stance, but he didn’t have it. He’d simply have to manage as best he could. He tried to sidestep and cut at the same time.

The unicorn crashed into him. Flung him reeling backward and down on the ground. He was sure he’d taken a mortal wound, but when he ran his hand over his torso, he couldn’t find a puncture. Some part of the beast’s body had struck him, but he’d dodged the horn.

Something screamed an inhuman scream. Anton forced himself to sit up and look around. His foe lay on its side several feet away, the cutlass buried in the base of its neck. It gave a final cry, and its head thudded down onto the ground. Blood oozed from its mouth and nostrils.

Anton smiled then glimpsed a surge of motion from the corner of his eye. He turned his head, and another black unicorn charged him.

Tu’ala’keth’s steely contralto voice cried words of power. The grass beneath the unicorn’s hooves grew long and whipped around its lower legs. The beast’s momentum kept it plunging forward anyway. Bones snapped, and it crashed to the ground to shriek until the shalarin drove her stone trident between its ribs.

She then hobbled to Anton. The blinding luminescence on her face had disappearedshe’d probably extinguished it with a counterspellbut blood poured from the rent in her side.

“Are you badly hurt?” she asked.

“I’ve been knocked around,” he said, “and taken a little jolt of magical virulence, but I can still fight.

You’re the one who’s really wounded. Fix it before you bleed to death.”