Hugh Cook - The Walrus and the Warwolf

The sole surviving Neversh was flying high in long, slow circles. The entire sky was a mass of bruise-black storm-clouds. Lightning flickered on the horizon. No sign of land. .'Use the ring, man,' said Drake. 'Speed counts.'

He feared the cold. It was summer, true, but the sea was as cold as ever.

Blackwood grappled with the ring on his hand. And Drake realized that if Blackwood lost that ring, then everyone in the red bottle would be trapped there forever. And he, Drake, would very shortly drown.The ring turned full circle.

A hole appeared in the sea where Blackwood had been. Water slapped into it, kicking up white foam. Another regular swell rocked Drake up, then down. He saw the Neversh lumbering through the air, coming in over the sea, very low. It was close. And closing. Where was Blackwood? Pox and bitches! The Neversh was dangling its grapple-hooks. The hooks tore foam from the top of a swell.It was almost upon him. Drake ducked under.

And dived, dived as he had learnt to years ago on Ling, forced his way down, down, deep and under, felt pressure build in his ears. Then turned. And started for the surface. Suddenly bubbles of air erupted around him. There were hands, arms, faces. There was rope in the water, a log – no, a spar. Then-Up!

Drake burst to the surface. And up came half a dozen people – Blackwood, Jon Arabin, Whale Mike, Ish

Ulpin, Rolf Thelemite, Sully Yot. And with them, two spars, a dozen planks, some rope. Drake tried to speak, drank water, grabbed for a spar, clung to it and yelled: 'Neversh!''Where?' cried Blackwood.

And was torn from the water as the Neversh hooked his shoulder. Drake grabbed Blackwood's left leg as it went hauling past. He was dragged from the water. Sully Yot snatched at Drake's feet. Held fast.

The Neversh lifted the three of them: Blackwood, Drake and Yot. It flew on, its tail trailing in the water.

Whale Mike grabbed at the tail. The Neversh was brought to a dead halt by the sudden increase in weight. Its wings laboured.'Up, boys!' hollered Jon Arabin.

And scrambled over Whale Mike's shoulders. And started racing up the tail of the Neversh.'Ahyak Rovac!' screamed Rolf Thelemite.And followed.'Bugger that for a joke,' muttered Ish Ulpin.

But, after only a momentary hesitation, his innate recklessness got the better of him – and he too went racing up the tail of the monster.

The brute thrashed at the air with its wings and, slowly, ponderously, lifted the combined weight of six men and Whale Mike. Up they went. Up up up!Then Blackwood's flesh gave way.

Blackwood, Drake and Sully Yot crashed into the sea. Coming to the surface, Drake saw the Neversh swinging round slowly, slowly, heavily. Whale Mike was still clinging to its tail, which was dangling low. Jon Arabin, Rolf Thelemite and Ish Ulpin were on the monster's back, stabbing at its hide with their swords.Where was Yot?

Thirty paces away, keeping himself afloat with a solemn dog-paddle. Where was Blackwood? Thirty paces in the opposite direction.Drake started swimming.Towards Blackwood.

Towards the ring which gave entry to the red bottle which was tied to Drake's waist.

Blackwood went under. Came up. Gasping. There was blood in the water around him.

Drake trod water and shouted:'Use the ring!'

Better to get Blackwood into the bottle, now, before he went under. But Blackwood shouted back: 'One arm!'

From which Drake understood that one of Blackwood's arms was out of action because of his wounds.

'Hold the ring with your teeth!' shouted Drake. 'Hold the ring with your teeth, then turn your finger.'Blackwood put finger to mouth.

Then disappeared.Into the bottle?

Drake was not sure. He half-thought that Blackwood had been dragged under by something. Drake trod water. And saw Blackwood come to the surface, the sea around him boiling with blood. Blackwood opened his mouth and seemed to scream. But no sound came.

'Oh bugger, oh bugger,' said Drake, half-sobbing, half-screaming.

And struck out, swimming overarm, closing the distance. He was deathly tired as he came up with Blackwood. His boots felt like lead, pulling him down.'Blackwood?' said Drake.Grabbing at the man.

Who floated – whose torso floated. His legs were gone. The sea was red. And the ring? The ring, the ring! Drake grabbed Blackwood's hand, fastened his teeth on the ring, pulled it off – and, in his haste, swallowed it.He had swallowed the ring!

Aghast, Drake poked two fingers down his own throat. And vomited. He tried to close his mouth on the vomit, coughed, almost choked, spluttered, gasped for air – and lost his mouthful of vomit to the ocean! He saw the ring amidst the vomit which had spilt to the sea.

Drake momentarily glimpsed the cold gold glint as it went writhing down through the waters. Then he was grabbing, grabbing at guess. Closing his fist on – water? Vomit? Seaweed?Something hard.He opened his fist.Revealing cold gold.

Which he shoved onto his finger. Shoved so hard that he peeled away little strips of his own skin. But felt no pain, no pain, only shock at the vivid red of his blood spilling to the blood of the sea.Now: the death-stone!

Drake grabbed at a leather cord round Blackwood's neck, hauled, brought to light the leather bag hanging from the leather cord, slipped it free from the dead man's head.Kicked with his feet.Eased himself away from the body.

Which staggered, struck, punched, slammed, hit from below and knocked up, over, thrashed into blood by – by a glimpse of grey, striking, striding, taking the body down, deep, down, gone. Brief glimpse of fin as it vanished.That was a shark.Drake screamed.

And was still wailing when the shark erupted from the water in front of him, reared up, rising, huge, smooth, monstrous, vast gulf of mouth – which he attacked, flailing at it with the leather bag. Leather bag heavy with death-stone.And the shark bit.Huge jaws crunching down.Savaging the death-stone.

Which exploded into lightning, blowing the shark's head apart. Drake, blinded by flying gore, floundered, went under, came up, blinking away blood, blinking away water. Went under again. Could see, now.

The Neversh was no longer circling overhead. Instead, it was floating on the sea about a hundred paces away, thrashing furiously. Jon Arabin, Ish Ulpin and Rolf Thelemite had opened the Neversh's flotation tanks to the air, releasing the buoyant gas which the Neversh needed to fly. The three heroes had now turned their attention to the monster's tail. They were trying to hack tail from body.

Whale Mike was still clinging to the end of the tail, his weight effectively preventing the monster from using it as a weapon.

Drake heard something in the sea behind him. Turned, and saw it was Sully Yot.'Hi,' said Drake, having no breath for further eloquence.

Yot closed the distance. And his hand came up from the water, armed with a knife.'Die, Demon-son!' screamed Yot.'You mad bugger!' said Drake.And caught Yot's knife-hand.

Strength against strength they fought. Until finally Drake managed to secure the knife. And cut Yot's throat. 'Crazy,' muttered Drake.

Then let Yot' s corpse float away, and used the knife to cut free his boots, which were threatening to drown him.

With boots gone, Drake released the knife. Let it fall awaytothe depths of the ocean. Helayback, floating in the swells which seemed to stretch away to eternity. Ocean. Blood. Rain. When had it started to rain? He had no idea. But it was raining with a vengeance now. Rain hammering outoftheheavens.

A wave slapped Drake's face. He took a breath which was half water. He felt exhausted. Cold to the bone. Ready to die.'But I'm not going to die yet,' muttered Drake to Drake.

No. He could not die. Notyet. For he carried the magic red bottle. And he carried the ring which commanded that bottle. And within the bottle was Zanya, his true love.'Must stay afloat,' muttered Drake.Swallowed water.