Stan Nicholls - Army of Shadows

"This is hopeless!" Spurral yelled as she battered at a writhing tentacle.

"We'll have to abandon ship!" Kalgeck returned. He was smothered in the foul-smelling yellowish-brown life fluid.

"I wouldn't give much for our chances on the open sea!"

"What, then?"

"Just keep fighting!"

A bellowing human was dragged past, a tentacle wrapped around his legs. Spurral and Kalgeck tried to hack him free, but their blades made practically no headway. The unfortunate Gatherer was whipped over the rail and disappeared.

Ominous creaking and rending sounds came from the ship's bowels. Above deck, tentacles ripped through timber as though it were parchment. Planks buckled, the remaining masts shuddered, canvas fell.

The ship lurched violently. Then it began to descend.

"We're going down!" Kalgeck shouted.

Water began pouring over the rails and swamping the deck. It was ankle-deep in seconds, then knee- and quickly waist-high. Panic broke out.

Spurral felt as much as heard the hull crushing. Dwarfs and humans were swept overboard. She looked around for Kalgeck and saw him being carried over the rail by a torrent of water.

There was a dizzying drop as what remained of the ship was pulled beneath the waves.

Spurral was immersed. Underwater, all was chaos. The sinking craft, shedding fragments. A jumble of barrels, chests, ropes, scraps of sail, struggling bodies, twisting tentacles.

Just briefly she glimpsed animate forms, deathly white and grotesque in appearance. They were of enormous bulk, and their repugnant flesh pulsated horribly. She saw gaping, cavernous mouths lined with fangs the size of broadswords. And she caught sight of a single massive eye, unblinking and afire with greedy malevolence.

Then, mercifully, total darkness closed in on her.

Once the ship they had set on fire was out of sight, the Wolverines inspected their second craft. According to Pepperdyne, the only one with any real knowledge of boats, the damage was worse than he had first thought.

"That magic beam punched through the hull in a couple of places," he explained. "Kind of sprinkled it. Look, you can just see the burn marks around the holes."

Stryke leaned and nodded. "And?"

"It left us with a number of leaks. Small and slow, but a nuisance. We can patch them up, and get somebody bailing."

"So what's the problem?"

"I don't know how much the timbers might have been weakened by the hit. It could get worse, and we don't have what we need for a major repair."

"What can we do?"

"Stop at the next island we come to and hope it's got trees."

"We'd have to change course. That'd slow us."

"We'll slow a damn sight more if we sink. Where is the nearest island?"

Stryke took out the chart and unfolded it. "There," he said, jabbing at a spot.

"I'm not sure if this boat would make that."

"Great," Stryke sighed. "Any ideas?"

"When this sort of thing happened back in Trougath we'd lash the boats together."

"If this one sinks won't it take both boats down?"

"You have to look at it the other way round. The buoyancy of the good one keeps them both afloat. It's not ideal, Stryke, but it should get us there. Though joining the boats will slow down our speed, of course, and it'll steer like a cow."

"With that Pelli Madayar after us, this isn't a good time to fetter ourselves."

Pepperdyne shrugged. "Only other thing I can come up with is abandoning this boat and squeezing everybody into the good one. Mind you, that would slow us down a lot too. Not to mention things would be kind of crowded."

Stryke considered it. "No, we won't do that. It'd cramp our style too much if we have to fight. Take as much help as you need and see to the lashing. But do it fast; I feel like a sitting target."

"Right. Jup'll have to be told about the delay."

"I know, and he's not going to like it. You get on here. I'll tell him."

The boats were already linked by a couple of lengths of rope. And they were near enough to each other that Stryke could easily step over.

Jup was at the prow of boat one as usual. He was leaning over the side and stretching his arm to get his hand in the water.

"What are you doing?" Stryke asked.

Jup straightened and wiped his wet hand against his breeches. If anything, the sombre expression he'd worn since they set out was more intense. "I was trying farsight."

"I thought this much water stopped it working."

"It does, mostly. I'm… I wanted to do something, you know?"

Stryke nodded.

"And I picked something up," the dwarf added.

"You did?"

"A life force. Or maybe a whole lot of them clustered together. Really massive. Big enough to counter a lot of the water's masking effect."

"Any idea what it is?"

"No. But it's got an… atmosphere that I don't like. Definitely didn't feel friendly."

"How far away?"

"Hard to say. The amount of energy it threw out, it could be a long way off. But my guess is that it isn't too far."

"Is it a threat?"

"Who knows? But like I said, it didn't come over as pleasant."

"We'll be on our guard." He considered his sergeant. "There's nothing to say it's anything to do with Spurral."

"No. Not directly. But knowing she's out there with… whatever isn't a good feeling."

"We've got to detour, Jup."

" What? Why?"

"Pepperdyne says the other boat might sink if we don't find an island and fix it."

"Shit." He looked over at boat two. Pepperdyne and several Wolverines were starting work. "What're they doing?"

"Lashing the boats together."

"Doesn't that mean if one sinks — "

"I thought that. Pepperdyne says no."

"Damn it, Stryke — first that elf tries to fry us and now this. Am I ever going to get to Spurral?"

"I'll make it as quick as I can. We'll be working all out."

"I'm counting on it."

"Meantime, you keep doing whatever it is you do with the farsight. We could use a warning if what you picked up comes our way."

"Sure. But if what I sensed comes our way a warning's not going to help much."

It didn't take long to get the boats secured and plot a new course. The two-boat behemoth they created was ungainly and difficult to manoeuvre, but Pepperdyne maintained it would get them to land.

After a faltering start, because of how cumbersome the vessel had become, they got the hang of handling it. They rowed hard, and there was enough of a prevailing wind to make it worth raising the small sails.

Those who weren't on rowing duty speculated on the mystery of Pelli Madayar's group. Some looked forward to tangling with the Gatherers by recounting previous battles, as orcs were wont to do, and garnished their tales with some light boasting.

A few concentrated on sharpening their weapons. Jup stayed at the prow, looking grim and occasionally dipping his hand in the water. Standeven continued to occupy his lonely place at the stern. He seemed restless, and Pepperdyne, too busy to spend time with him, nevertheless noticed that his one-time master's eyes were rarely off Stryke.

They quickly fell back into toiling at the oars combined with breaks for rest and bluster. A couple of hours into this routine, with the Sun well past its highest point, a lull developed. Wheam tried filling it.

He stood and cleared his throat. No one paid any attention. He cleared his throat again, louder and theatrically. Two or three heads turned but most ignored him.

"Comrades!" he declared. "Shipmates!"

Haskeer groaned.

"It occurred to me," Wheam said, "that this could be the perfect time to give you all the first taste of the epic ballad I've been composing." He pointed a proud finger at his temple. "In my head."

"You haven't got your lute," Coilla reminded him desperately.