Nigel Findley - Into the Void

But the situation couldn't last for long. Some of the umber hulks forced their way to the front of the attacking group, knocking humans aside like dolls, tumbling unfortunates over the side of the vessel into space. The Probe's defenders kept firing, but their murderous barrage couldn't stop the armored monsters' advance. Arrows glanced harmlessly off the creatures' shells; bolts lodged in plates of natural armor, but didn't penetrate. The monstrosities continued their approach across the deathspider's bridge.

"Vallus!" Aelfred shouted.

The elf was already weaving the power of another spell. He extended one hand, fingers outspread, toward the attacking monsters. An arrow seemed to spring from the tips of his fingers, driving deep into the chest of the leading hulk. It bellowed its agony, tearing at its own flesh as if to pluck out the arrow, then collapsed to the deck.

Sylvie had joined the fray as well. In response to her incantation, a dozen or more rubbery, black tentacles burst from the spidership's hull and wrapped themselves around the legs and torsos of the advancing hulks. Some of the creatures quickly tore the tentacles away; others weren't so lucky. Teldin watched in mixed awe and horror as several of the tentacles tightened around their victims, immobilizing them, and started to crush their hard carapaces. One umber hulk lurched back, one arm virtually torn away, and fell into the darkness. Another collapsed where it stood, its head a shattered ruin.

Mighty though it was, the magical assault wasn't enough to stop the attack. Haifa dozen hulks still survived, though most of those were wounded to one degree or another. As the mages paused to prepare new spells, the attackers lumbered forward. With rattling barks of triumph, the creatures reached the hammership's rail and swung their massive bodies over. Still being forced along by the remaining hulks, the human slaves followed the gruesome shock troops. The second phase of the defense of the Probe had begun.

The main deck was a pandemonium of brawling figures. Packs of Probe crewmen harried individual umber hulks, striking at the monsters' backs and flanks, desperately struggling to stay out of reach of the creatures' rending claws. Others fought in knots, or one on one, against the human and demihuman attackers from the deathspider. The air was filled with screams of rage and agony and grunts of exertion, punctuated by the umber hulks' barking cries. Above all was the clash and skirl of steel on steel.

Sweor Tobregdan, Aelfred's second mate, bellowed orders from the sterncastle, trying to direct the defense. If there was any plan to the fight, however, Teldin couldn't see it. People fought where they had to, or where an opportunity presented itself. This wasn't organized warfare, with its lines of offense and defense, coordinated sorties, and countercharges. This was more like a barroom brawl: no order, no central command, and no quarter asked or given.

The second mate must have seen the futility of yelling orders that nobody could hear, because he leaped down the ladder to the main deck and threw himself into the fray. Almost instantly, four of the deathspider's human crewmen sprang at him, and he went down under them.

"Sweor!" Aelfred yelled. He made to leap into the midst of the fray and somehow cut his way to where his friend needed him, but Bubbo's hand landed heavily on his shoulder. For a moment, the big warrior fought-vainly-to escape the grip of the even bigger weapons master. Then reason quieted Aelfred's anger. He nodded his thanks to Bubbo.

Sweor needed no help, as it turned out. An instant later, he reappeared, his clothing and blade drenched with blood-not his. own-leaving his erstwhile adversaries motionless on the deck.

Another spell split the air. A fan of seven shimmering multicolored rays lashed from Vallus's outstretched hands and struck two umber hulks on the deck below. One fell instantly lifeless, a huge, smoking rent torn in the armor of its chest. He other screamed its agony, flailing about wildly with an arm now blackened and twisted and missing perhaps half of its length. The Probe crewmen who faced the beast seized the opportunity. Two lunged in on its other flank and buried their swords hilt-deep in the creature's abdomen. The hulk lashed out with its good arm, striking one of its attackers with back-breaking force, but a crewman on the other side crouched low and swung his axe at the monster's ankle. It connected and, with another ear-splitting shriek, the creature crashed to the deck. Its assailants were on it at once.

Teldin didn't see the creature's death. A clash of steel on steel from close by drew his attention. Some of the attackers were trying to reach the forecastle, he saw at once. Two were trying to climb the starboard ladder from the main deck. Liono was holding them off, and they hadn't yet reached the forecastle deck itself, but their swordwork was good enough-even on the ladder-that the aged tactician was unable to kill them. Other attackers were swarming up the port ladder, and Bubbo was lumbering over to deal with them. Teldin hefted Gendi's short sword and felt the tension of feat in the tendons of his forearm.

With no warning, a spear hissed past Teldin's ear and drove, quivering, into the side of the forward turret. Another slammed into Liono's ribs, transfixing his thin body. The tactician fell silently. Teldin looked around wildly for the new attackers.

The assault was coming from a totally new direction. Some of the deathspider's crew had managed to clamber over onto the lobe that extended from the starboard side of the Probe's hull-in fact, onto the metalwork that formed the roof of the officer's saloon. Teldin estimated maybe a dozen men, being herded forward by another umber hulk.

"Starboard side forward!" Teldin bellowed at the top of his lungs. He pointed toward the new danger.

It was Sylvie who reacted first. She spun and again hissed syllables of power. A chunk of metal-braced wood from the shattered ballista lifted from the deck and was hurled with inhuman force into the new group of attackers. Several fell, screaming, but the others had reached the forecastle and were now in the partial shelter of the forward turret. Aelfred and Sylvie hurried forward to engage them. Teldin moved to follow his friends.

At the last instant, his peripheral vision spotted motion. Instinctively he ducked… and another spear whistled over his head, to glance off the turret side and disappear over the rail. With Liono gone, his two opponents, followed by a handful of others, had reached the forecastle deck unopposed. Teldin saw one leap toward Estriss, sword swinging to cleave the mind flayer's head in two. He tried to yell a warning to his friend- friend? yes!-but sickeningly knew it was too late.

Estriss made no move to defend himself. The creature just turned featureless, white eyes on its murderer.

And suddenly the attacker arched backward, as though he'd been struck full in the face by a tremendous blow. The attacker screamed, clutching his head with both hands. His sword clattered to the deck.

With a sinuous speed that Teldin had never seen from the illithid before, Estriss lunged forward and flung himself atop the writhing man. Red-tinged hands pried the man's own hands away from his head. Estriss bent low, and his facial tentacles lashed out to cup the human's skull. The neogi slave screamed again….

Nausea and horror washed over Teldin, and he turned away. He was just in time. Two attackers were moving his way, weapons at the ready. Teldin tightened his grip on his sword and dropped into the defensive stance that Aelfred had shown him. He backed away cautiously. His two opponents advanced, no less tentatively, and separated as though to flank him. Both were scrawny men, he noticed, actually emaciated. Their eyes looked wild, almost insane. One was about his own size, while the other was considerably taller, but neither could have weighed nearly as much as he did. The larger man was naked to the waist, and Teldin could easily see his ribs showing under his skin. On the man's upper left chest was some kind of discoloration. It took him a moment to understand that it was a tattoo of some kind, a marking totally alien in its symbology.