The Swarms: diverse creatures, monstrous and almost mindless, controlled from a distance by the Skull of the Deep South, a powerful entity based in the southern terror-lands. The fall of the Confederation of Wizards has allowed the Swarms to venture north of Drangsturm, conquering most of the western seaboard of the continent of Argan.Screaming, the Swarms attacked. They came in their thousands.
But only twenty logs were within monster-leap of the good ship Dragon, meaning the Swarms had only twenty avenues of attack. And there were three hundred men aboard.'Death is our destiny,' said Blackwood, grimly.And sent an arrow hissing to its target.
Lightning crackled across the sky. Thunder boomed. But still no wind. Still no rain.
'This no time to die,' said Whale Mike, sounding worried. ' I got wife and kids to look after.'
And he swung an oar. Thwapl The head of a monster exploded in a spray of gore and ichor.'Ahyak Rovac!' screamed Rolf Thelemite.
And plunged his sword into the underbelly of a scrabbling keflo as it tried to haul itself onto the deck of the ship.'Help me!' screamed Simp Fiche.
A glarz had swarmed over him, and was ripping him to pieces. 'Help!'
Ish Ulpin strode forward. But he was intercepted by a thing which looked like a walking thorn bush armed with a dozen sets of shears and a couple of scythes. Ish Ulpin killed it with the help of a couple of other bravos. But by that time Simp Fiche was dead, ravaged, torn to pieces.The glarz swarmed forward.
Ish Ulpin picked up a spare ballast block and hurled it so it fell square in the middle of the net-shaped body of the glarz. Trapped, it writhed and struggled – but could not get free.'We'll deal with you later,' said Ish Ulpin.
And went looking for a worthier foe.
'Die, Demon-spawn!' screamed Sully Yot, hurling ballast blocks at creatures which had leapt from logs to the Dragon's flank, and were trying to climb up to the deck.
T bet they don't even make good eating,' said Ika Thole gloomily, sinking his harpoon through alien armour.'Now!' screamed Bucks Cat.
A dozen men were with him, using a spar as a battering ram. They pulped a slow-footed monster, screamed, whooped, yelled, and looked for another.
Using spears, ropes, boarding nets, grappling hooks, pikes, halberds and battle-axes, the pirates fought for life and liberty.
And won.
They won the first round, at any rate.
The deck was wet and slippery with ichor, blood, pulp, gore, mashed monsters, the unidentifiable remains of half a dozen men. Amputated tentacles writhed in the scuppers. Someone was floundering in the water, shouting. It was the soldier Scouse. How came he to be there? It mattered not: there was nothing anyone aboard could do for him. As they watched-
Most stopped watching, and, for those who did, the interest was soon terminated with the death of the unfortunate Scouse.
'Come with me,' said Miphon, finding Blackwood. 'Let's go below and venture to the bottle.'
'That's a good idea,' said Blackwood. 'I'm right out of arrows. There'll be more within.' And the pair departed.
The pirates had broken the first assault of the Swarms, killing upwards of a thousand monsters. The onsurge of horror-creatures died away to a dribble, then to nothing. A great cheer went up. But the battle was only beginning. Stalkers, glarz, keflos, granderglaws, green centipedes and other brutes began, as best they could, to paddle logs toward the Dragon.Their best was far from good.
A centipede clinging to the end of a log, half in the water and half out of it, its water-wet half thrashing furiously, was an essentially ludicrous sight. Many of the creatures lost their grip, floundered briefly, then drowned in the oily darkness of the seas. But there was no shortage of replacements. And they were getting results.The logs were converging on the Dragon.Jon Arabin clenched his fists and glared at the sky.'Give me lightning!' he yelled.Lightning forked downwards.'Thunder!' screamed Arabin.A drumroll of thunder followed.
'Now wind!' howled Arabin. 'Wind, for the love of mercy!'
But no wind came. The air was silent. Still. Dead. Even a thread of gossamer would have hung limp in such lifeless airs.'Bugger bugger bugger!' screamed Arabin.
And searched the horizons for signs of squall. He saw none such: but did see five winged creatures circling far, far overhead. He very much doubted that they were eagles. No: the Neversh were up there.
'Maybe we could catch them somehow,' muttered Arabin. 'Harness them to the ship so they'd pull us clear of this grabble of logs.'Could it be done?Somehow, he doubted it.
Drake, also looking up to the sombre oppression of the stormcloud skies, saw the Neversh, but made no comment on it lest he panic someone. With luck, the storm which threatened them would shortly break, scattering the Neversh. Otherwise, there was nothing they could do about the flying monsters. But surely there was something they could do about the logs converging on the ship. Once the Swarms had a hundred jump-off points instead of twenty, it would all be over for the Dragon.'Drake . . .?' said a voice.
It was Zanya, in company with Miphon. The wizard still wore his feathered hat.
'Zanya!' said Drake, embracing her. 'What are you doing here?'
'Standing on the deck so my eyes can proof what Miphon's been telling me. He's been keeping me in touch.'
Drake kissed her. Light touch of lips against lips. Lumps on her lips. Blue lumps. Blue leprosy. What hope now of getting to Ling for a cure? He smelt patchouli on her skin.'Why perfume?' he said.
'Because I wanted to be my best for you. For. . .for the end. This is the end, isn't it?' She was starting to cry.
And Drake, by way of soothing, kissed her again. Then held her, held her close and held her tight. He remembered how he had first seen her, so many years ago, when he had been floating in the water bare-arse naked, a horizon away from Stokos, and she had been looking down from the deck of a xebec. And he remembered . . . other places, other times. Their best had been very good indeed. Yes. It had been worth it to have lived. But now … '
'Darling,' said Drake. 'The next attack is soon. Best you return to the bottle.''Are you coming?' said Zanya.'No,' said Drake.
He had already made up his mind. If the Swarms took the ship, anyone in the bottle would survive. But they would have to stay there, for to exit from the bottle would be death. He had no wish to survive as a prisoner forever. What kind of life was that? He had languished in too many dungeons to consign himself to another. Better to fight, yes, and make an ending.
'You must come!' said Zanya. 'You'll die if you stay out here!''Here is where I'm staying,' said Drake.
'Then I'll not go to the bottle either,' said Zanya. 'My end is soon. I know that much. If you end today, then – then so do I.'
Then she said no more, for she was weeping too much to speak. He held her close. Looked over her shoulder to Miphon. He could see no expression in the wizard's green eyes. Miphon seemed almost to have withdrawn from the world. The wizard had wisdom enough to know that their chances of survival were zero. They were doomed. The game was over.Drake, who had no such wisdom, said:'The death-stone?'
'We've been through that,' said Miphon, his voice so calm that it infuriated Drake. 'The ship would turn to stone. It would sink, surely.'
'And maybe it wouldn't!' said Drake. 'Maybe a stone ship can still float. How do we know till we try? Let's use the death-stone! At least we'd take more of these monsters with us!'
'It is hardly worth exciting false hopes amidst the crew at this stage,' said Miphon.'You're crazy, man!' said Drake.
Zanya wiped a snivel of misery from her nose, then sniffed, then said:
'What does it matter if the ship turns to stone? What does it matter if the ship sinks? The bottle would float. Wouldn't it? Float to land somewhere?'
'No, it wouldn't,' said Miphon. 'Blackwood once had occasion to throw a similar bottle into a tarn on the Scourside Coast. It sank immediately.'
'Tied to a man it wouldn't,' said Zanya. 'That man could use the death-stone, then-'
'Then the ship would sink, and we'd have one man afloat in the ocean fifty leagues from anywhere,' said Miphon. 'And the moment he used the ring to get inside the bottle, it would fall away to the bottom of the ocean. Everyone inside would then be trapped there for life – for if the ring-bearer ventured outside, the weight of ocean waters would kill him without pity.'
There was a scream from someone on deck. Drake looked round wildly and saw – a Neversh! It swooped low over the ship, its twin feeding spikes tearing into a sail. Then it was gone, flying low over the ocean, the sail dangling from its spikes.
Drake's heart was hammering. Of all the monsters, he feared the Neversh most of all. To be held by the grapple-hooks, to be pierced by the feeding spikes: he had had nightmares about that.
'Let two men stay outside,' Zanya said, not bothering to comment on the Neversh. 'One to keep the bottle afloat. The other to be ring-bearer. That way the bottle stays afloat.'
'Yes,' said Miphon. 'Then we have two men afloat in the water instead of one. And both fifty leagues from land! What good would that do?''The ring-bearer brings out a spar,' said Zanya.'There is no spar in the bottle,' said Miphon.
'But,' said Drake, in a moment of decision, 'there will be soon. Come! Let's find Jon Arabin!'
For Drake followed Zanya's reasoning, and saw what she was getting at. They could bring one spar out of the bottle, aye – so they could just as easily bring two. And planks. And hammer. And nails. And ropes. And sails. And a long bamboo for a mast of sorts.
'We can't go to Arabin!' said Miphon. 'We've led him to understand the red bottle stayed with Morgan Hearst in Estar. What will he say if he finds we've been lying?'
'Man, is it sudden death you're afraid of?' said Drake, drawing his sword. 'You'll find it here and now lest you come to your senses!''I yield,' said Miphon, 'to the judgment of your steel.'
'This is no time for fancy rhetoric,' said Drake. 'Do you mean you'll talk with Arabin, or do you mean you want your death on the instant?''We'll talk with Arabin,' said Miphon hastily.
Moments later, Drake was at Jon Arabin's side, with Miphon and Zanya in attendance. Jon Arabin looked Zanya up and down. A strange sight she made, red hair, red skin, her face lathered with blue sores and tracked with tears, her nose still snivelling. While Jon Arabin wondered at this apparition, he judged that this was no time for stupid questions, so said only:'What is it? Make it quick!'Drake pointed at Miphon.
'The wizard Miphon,' said Drake. 'On his finger, a magic ring. The ring can take you and crew into a magic bottle. We have with us on board the death-stone. It's the same one told of in legend – the same which demolished the walls of Androlmarphos.'
'Such magic turns all about to stone,' said Jon Arabin. 'Our ship would surely sink.'
T know that,' said Drake. 'But there's a way to survive regardless. Put crew in bottle with the makings for a boat or such. Then we'll use the death-stone to kill off the Swarms. Then we can bring the timbers out from the bottle, aye, and build a raft or such in mid-ocean.'
'That,' said Arabin, 'is the weirdest thing I've heard all day.''But it will work!' cried Drake. 'It will work.'
Jon Arabin stared long and hard at Drake Douay. Then breathed heavily, and said:
'You and me, young man, we're going to sit down and have a talk when this is over. A long talk. Now where's this bottle?''Down below,' said Miphon. 'With Blackwood.' 'Then get it up here!' roared Jon Arabin.And Miphon fled.At that moment there was a great shout: 'Slaughterhouse! Slaughterhouse! Slaughterhouse!' The Swarms were attacking. En masse. 'We need time,' said Drake.
'Then get me fire,' said Jon Arabin. 'And I'll get you time, easily enough. Come on, don't just stand there! Get fire!'Drake and Zanya fled.
Shortly, Miphon reported to Jon Arabin in the company of Blackwood. The Swarms by now had seized the forecastle, and were fighting their way toward the stern. Drake and Zanya came up on deck, bearing between them a cauldron of hot coals stolen from a brazier in the kitchen.'We're here,' said Miphon. 'Now what-'He was interrupted by Drake, who yelled:'Jon! The Walrus is in the kitchen! Dead drunk!'
'I wondered where he'd got to,' said Jon Arabin – who, in fact, had been far too busy to wonder any such thing. 'Mike! Go below! The Walrus is in the kitchen! Get him up here!'Whale Mike moved to obey.Then Jon Arabin yelled:
'There's fire here! Fire the ship! Ahoy – you in the crow's-nest! Down, down, we're firing the ship!'
Rolf Thelemite had organized a double-line of men with pikes to hold the deck against the Swarms. They still had time. Just. Arabin glanced at Blackwood, who wore the red bottle knotted tight to his belt.
'That's it?' said Arabin. 'Right! You, Mr Wizard – get waterskins. Tie them to your comrade's belt. We don't want him sinking under if he's to carry us.' Then Arabin raised his voice: Tka Thole! Ish Ulpin! To me! To me with a work-party!'
Shortly, men were working furiously. They gathered up timber, and tools, and spars, and ropes, and sails. Whale Mike came up from below decks with Slagger Mulps tucked under his arm.'Drake!' screamed Yot.'What's your problem!' yelled Drake.
'You lied to me! About Zanya! About the red bottle! So you lied about Muck, didn't you? He lives, doesn't he? He was never mad, was he? You really are the Demon-son, aren't you?'
Drake did not know whether to laugh or cry. He spread his arms in helpless amazement and cried:'Man, this is no time to argue theology!''No, but it's time enough for a killing!' yelled Yot.And picked up a spear, intending to hurl it at Drake.
But Whale Mike plucked the spear from Yot's hand, and picked up Yot, and tucked him under his arm. Mike now had Yot under one arm, the Walrus under the other. Bucks Cat grabbed Mike and also grabbed Miphon. Half a dozen men, loaded with all kinds of baggage, grabbed each other. One took hold of Ish Ulpin's ear. Ish Ulpin held Bucks Cat by the neck.
And Miphon, connected by a bond of flesh to so many people, turned the ring on his finger. Whereupon Miphon and all the men, plus their baggage, were snatched away into the red bottle.Moments later, Miphon and Whale Mike rematerialized.'I want spar!' boomed Mike. 'Good spar, take inside.'
Back and forth went Miphon and Whale Mike. Each time they ventured into the bottle, they took with them more men and more materials. Blackwood stood stolidly on the deck, arms folded, sometimes giving a timely order to organize the chaos all around.
The sudden promise of physical salvation by means of the red bottle amazed most pirates not a jot. For – was not their leader Jon Arabin? They'd all secretly expected him to come up with something fancy. And this fitted the bill precisely.
While some of the crew had been gathering materials and venturing to the bottle, others had been holding the line against the Swarms, and others had been setting fire to the ship. Smoke curdled in the air. It spread in choking
clouds. The Swarms wavered as the smoke spread amongst them – then began to fall back.
'They hate smoke!' yelled Arabin. 'They're running! We're winning!'
Meanwhile, the flames leaped through the still and sullen air, swift as a band of lunatic red-jacketed monkeys driven on by a throng of rabid slave-masters wielding razor-tipped whips by way of encouragement. As the fire took hold, flames swung from sail to sail so fast the canvas seemed almost to explode. And the Swarms were truly on the run, retreating from the heat, the smoke, the crackling fury of the conflagration. Many of the monsters plunged overboard, there to drown.
Burning rope and canvas fell amongst the work parties, who swore and shouted and laboured all the harder. Some were weeping, some laughing, some dancing on the spot as they waited for Miphon to transport them inside the red bottle. They were wild, crazy, manic, joyful. They had hope! They were going to live!
'General retreat!' yelled Jon Arabin. 'Retreat to me! We're quitting the ship! Move your backsides!'
From the daze of heat, smoke and crackling flame came the last of the ship's defenders. Sweating. Bleeding. Gasping. Grinning. Miphon took them into the bottle, group by group.Finally, only these stood on the burning deck:
Blackwood, the bottle roped to his waist; Miphon, bearing the ring; Jon Arabin; Drake; Zanya; Whale Mike.Jon Arabin drew his falchion.'Give the bottle to my man Drake,' said Jon Arabin.
Upon which Whale Mike grabbed both Blackwood and Miphon. One hand round each neck. He could have killed them just by squeezing.
Blackwood unknotted the red bottle and passed it to Drake, who swiftly tied it to his own waist. Jon Arabin glanced around quickly. The air was trembling with heat. He was sweating. Somewhere, burning wood broke with a sharp crack. Beyond the flames he could see a handful of hell-creatures writhing in death.
'Now, the death-stone,' said Jon Arabin. 'Give it to me!''No,' said Miphon.'I'll kill you!' said Jon Arabin.
'Blackwood,' said Miphon. 'Blackwood has the death-stone.''This is true?'said Jon Arabin.Blackwood nodded.'Then give it to me!' said Arabin.
'Jon,' said Drake. 'It's no good grabbing the death-stone. I've tried that. There's writing on it. The writing gives a spell which commands the death-stone. You have to hold the death-stone, then say the spell.'
Jon Arabin was literate. But he knew well that any wizard-spell would be written in the High Speech, which he could neither speak nor read.'The spell!' demanded Jon Arabin.
'The spell,' said Miphon, promptly, 'is jonmarakaralarajodo, enakonazavnetzyltrakolii, zeq-telejenzeq.'
Miphon was lying. These words had no power whatsoever: they simply meant, in the High Speech of wizards: stochastic, phenomenological, epistemological.
'Run that past me again,' said Jon Arabin, a puzzled look on his face.Miphon did so.
But it was no good: such long words could never be learnt in moments.
A burning spar crashed to the deck, scattering blazing coals. A wave of heat washed across their sweating faces. The air filled momentarily with choking smoke, then cleared, leaving them coughing, eyes watering.
'Mr Wizard,' said Jon Arabin, deciding. 'We'll learn the ways of the death-stone later. For the moment, you'll give Blackwood the ring. Blackwood will take us inside the red bottle. You'll stay within with me, as a hostage. Then
Blackwood will return to the deck to command the death-stone against the Swarms.'
Reluctantly, Miphon gave Blackwood the ring which commanded the red bottle,'Let's go,' said Jon Arabin.
And grabbed Zanya. Then took hold of Whale Mike, who had still not released either Miphon or Blackwood. Then Blackwood turned the ring on his finger – and all five were sucked into the red bottle which was now tied to Drake's belt.
As they vanished, air rushed in to occupy vacuum. With the air came smoke, ash, intolerable heat. Drake, alone on the deck, crouched low to avoid the smoke. Another spar shook the deck as it fell, scattering more burning coals. One skittled along the deck, finishing right under Drake's nose.
'Come on come on come on!' said Drake. 'What's keeping you?'Were they fighting inside the bottle?
'Come on, Blackwood!' screamed Drake. 'Come on, you crazy ganch!'
He struck at the red bottle tied to his belt. Then saw – smoke? A ghost? No: Blackwood, materializing on the deck.
Everyone but Blackwood and Drake was now in the red bottle.'Do it!' said Drake. 'Use the death-stone! Quick!'
Blackwood proved to be wearing the death-stone in a leather bag slung round his neck beneath his clothing. He took it out. Held it high. Then shouted Words. They were long, tangled things in the High Speech, said so fast they were almost a gabble. Drake thought he caught a snatch of the spell – 'tabanagijish' – but even that he might have got wrong.'Stand closer!' shouted Blackwood.So Drake, to be safe, crouched at Blackwood's feet.
The sea was roaring. Or was it the sea? No, it was the sky. Grating, grinding. The flames – the flames were turning grey. The very air was grey. A red-hot coal flickered, flashed green, then went out. Still Blackwood stood there, arm raised, death-stone in hand.
There was a crash.An enormous crash.
Chunks of rock flew across the deck, narrowly missing the two men. The mast had turned to stone, and the mast, falling, had shattered.
Drake heard a crackling sound, as if an intense fire was burning somewhere. But the fire on the ship seemed to be out. Where was the sound coming from? It was a skin of rock, forming on the surface of the sea, then breaking up with the action of the swells.Drake peered into the grey distance.
Saw monsters of the Swarms writhing, freezing, falling. Saw a Neversh fall, turned to stone in flight. Saw logs submerge, sink, vanish – turned to stone.
This was a Cause with Effect indeed!
At last, the air cleared, and was no longer grey. But it was dry, yes, dry, and harsh on the throat. Drake heard, very clearly, swells slapping against the side of their stone ship. And an ugly grating sound as that ship began to crack open.But, for the moment, the ship was still floating. 'She's starting to settle,' said Drake. 'What?' said Blackwood.
'The ship. She's getting lower in the water. Hey, man – up there! Neversh!'
There was indeed a Neversh still in the sky.
'The death-stone kills nothing which is more than two leagues away,' said Blackwood in a sombre voice, putting that stone back into its leather bag, which he then tucked away out of sight.
The ship was much lower in the water. It was going down fast. Drake went to the side.'Better we jump, man, and swim clear,' he said.
Then suited actions to words. Water shot up his nose. The sea was cold!'Come on, Blackwood!' yelled Drake. And Blackwood followed.
They floundered away through the regular swells, gasping, striving, encumbered with boots and with clothes. Then they were sucked back as the ship went down -sucked back, pulled under, whirled round, coming to the surface at last breathless and chilled.
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.
And was taken from behind, encircled by strength. In panic he fought, thrashed, struggled.
'Hey, man,' said Whale Mike. 'Not so rough. You my friend, right?''Right,' said Drake. T your friend.'
Then he fainted.