Rebellion: Tainted Realm: Book 2 (32 page)

The missing two shell racers had been hiding behind a house-sized iceberg. As Holm’s boat went past they burst out and closed in from either side.

Tali fired at the biggest man in the leading racer and struck him in the shoulder. He lost his stroke and clutched at the wound, baring his teeth.

The ferret-faced man behind him yelled, “Row, dammit!

The injured man took hold of the oar with a bloody hand and resumed his beat. She snatched another bolt, laid it in the groove of the crossbow and gave the crank a furious turn. Too furious – the bolt slipped sideways, jammed, and before she could free it the racer was alongside. The injured man and the fellow at the bow held it steady while the other two began to scramble up onto Holm’s boat.

She dropped the crossbow, picked up a length of anchor chain and swung it like a flail, striking the ferret-faced boarder around the head. He fell back into the racer, which rocked wildly. The rower at the bow lost his grip but the injured man did not, and now the second man was aboard and coming right for her.

She swung the chain again. He caught it, tore it out of her hands and tossed it aside. He wore a sword but did not draw it – clearly, he wanted her alive and unharmed. Tali backpedalled around the deck, looking for something she could use to hold him off. There, under the rail, was a boathook used for hauling in lines. She grabbed it and moved it back and forth in front of her. It was a poor weapon because the hook was U-shaped, the point facing her.

The man she had shot in the shoulder was holding the shell racer against the side of the boat. His sleeve was drenched in blood and he was white-faced, swaying in his seat. She did not think she had to worry about him. The fellow she had knocked back into his own position in the racer had recovered. He began to haul himself aboard, blood dribbling from his ear, a gash on his right cheek and a deadly expression on his ferret face.

Now the second craft was only yards away. With eight against two there was no hope. Where was Holm? The boat was drifting. She could not see him anywhere.

“Holm?” she yelled. “Holm, where are you?”

It came out as a screech. Her opponent grinned – he didn’t think much of her. She struck at him with the boathook, missed. Struck again, and this time the curving brass hook slammed into his knuckles. He tried to snatch it out of her hands but she managed to tear it free, gashing his arm.

Tali swung the boathook wildly. It caught in one of the sail lines. She freed it and backed away, but she was up against the side with nowhere to go.

“Holm, they’re aboard! Get out here.”

He burst up from a hatch at the bow, carrying a metal canister the size of the porridge pot, with a lid on. Tali’s opponent drew his sword and went for Holm. Holm bent, did something with the canister then, almost casually, tossed it at the approaching shell racer. It smacked into the water near the bow, sank, and went off like a small Cythonian bombast.

The bow of the racer was lifted fifteen feet into the air. The stern remained where it was. The bow kept going up, up, up until it was vertical, tumbling the rowers back onto the lowest man, then the craft sliced down through the water, carrying the four rowers with it, and disappeared.

The boat heeled violently under the water-blast but Tali, who had her back to the rail, kept her feet. The ferret-faced man had fallen to one knee. She sprang across the deck and dealt him a monumental blow to the head with the boathook, right where she had hit him with the chain. It felled him but did not knock him out. He struggled to his hands and knees, collapsed and struggled up again, fumbling out a knife.

If it’s you or me, thought Tali, it’s not going to be me. She whacked him again and this time he did not get up.

Where were the others? She looked around. The man who had gone for Holm lay unconscious – no, surely dead with that great wound in his neck. Holm was pursuing another man around the deck with the weapon that had done the damage – a harpoon. The fellow turned and struck at Holm with a curved sword like a scimitar.

He ran backwards, raising the harpoon. “Surrender or die.”

The man lunged at him and Holm put the harpoon through his breastbone.

Holm wrenched it out, went to the side and said to the injured man holding the boat, “I’ll give you the same choice.”

The man looked at the bloody harpoon, and then at Holm, and said, “I’m going.”

“Take him with you.”

Holm dragged the semi-conscious ferret-faced man to the side, heaved him onto it, then dropped him into the shell racer, head-first. The injured man rowed awkwardly away.

“Give us a hand with these, will you?” said Holm.

He took the man with the neck wound under the arms. Tali lifted his feet and they heaved him over. The harpooned man was much bigger. It took three goes before they could get him up onto the side and by then Tali was seeing double. She held the man there; Holm rolled him into the sea.

They watched the little shell racer limp out of sight. “Do you think they’ll get back to tell the story?” she said, swaying on her feet.

“With that injury, I’ll be surprised if he gets a mile. Better sit down before you fall down.”

Tali slumped down with her back to the mast. “What about the other racer? The fifth one?”

“I’d say we’ve lost it. But keep an eye out, just in case.”

Holm sighed, collected water in a bucket on a rope and scrubbed the blood off the deck. Tali crawled across to the crossbow, cleared the jammed bolt and put it away, trying not to think about the violence and her part in all those men’s deaths.

“How did you make that canister go off like that?”

“Got the idea from some of the enemy’s weapons,” said Holm. “I used to dabble in alchymie when I was young —”

“Is there anything you haven’t done?”

“Not much, but now isn’t the time for it. You’re shaking. Come inside, I’ll make you a cup of tea?”

“Thank you. And maybe I’ll have the bacon and eggs after all. I think I could hold it down now.”

“It’s hungry work, fighting for your life.”

“And taking other people’s lives.”

“It was them or us.”

“We still killed them.”

“I know, I know.”

Holm set a course south and east, heading inshore until they were within sight of land, where the icebergs were fewer and further apart. They ate bacon and eggs, soaked up the fat with chunks of bread, and sailed on. In an hour or two they were passing The Cape, an outjutting finger of mountainous land that marked the south-westerly end of Hightspall.

“Beyond here we’ll be sailing east, through the straits between Hightspall and ice-bound Suden. We’ll have to keep a sharp lookout there. The straits are shallow, treacherous waters, full of rocky reefs and sandbanks, and the tidal currents are fast and treacherous.”

“Anything else we have to worry about?”

“As I said earlier, it’s Cythonian territory.”

“But they’re not sailors, are they?”

“You know them better than anyone. You tell me.”

“I never heard of any of them being sailors… though they could have practised sailing on the lake at night.”

“I’d better keep a sharp lookout.”

“I’ll take a watch,” said Tali.

“Not now you won’t. Go below, have a sleep and don’t come back ’til dark.”

Despite her exhaustion, sleep was a long time coming. She kept seeing the faces of the dead, and the way each man had died… Tali woke abruptly and she could still see daylight through the porthole. What had roused her?

“Tali!”
 

It was Holm, yelling. “What’s the matter?” she said sleepily, pulling on the oversized sea boots he had given her.

“Up here, quick!”

She clumped up the ladder into the cabin. He was out on deck, staring up at the sky. She went out. The sea was dotted with low-hanging patches of mist or fog and a scattering of icebergs, large and small.

“What do you make of that?” said Holm, pointing.

She squinted up at the sky, which was half covered in grey, wind-shredded cloud. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, but she was so tired her eyes would not focus. All she could see was a faint dark shape. “A bird, I assume.”

He gave her a sardonic glance. “A bird?”

“Until a month ago I’d never seen the sky, much less a live bird. If you know, why don’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know what it is. That’s the problem.”

“What do you think it is?”

“It’s not a bird, and it’s not a bat. That rules out anything natural.”

“A blown-away kite?” said Tali. She had seen children playing with kites in Caulderon.

“It’s flying, not drifting.”

“Haven’t you got a telescope or anything?”

“I fell on hard times a while ago and had to sell it. Haven’t replaced it yet.”

“But you’re afraid of something.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“I don’t want to alarm you.”

“You’re alarming me.”

“I think it’s a shifter.”

A line of shivers ran up the back of her neck and over the top of her head. “A flying shifter?”

“Yes.”

Memory stirred, sank, stirred again. “Is it a gauntling?”

“It looks like one – and that’s bad. Of all the shifters Lyf has created, gauntlings are the most troubling.”

“I would have thought that caitsthes were the worst.”

“They’re powerful, and vicious, but they’re also predictable. Gauntlings aren’t – but they are intelligent.”

“How do you know?”

“Shifters are one of my hobbies.”

Tali liked nothing about that statement, and it aroused her dormant worries about Holm. Though he had rescued her, and though he had saved her life, she felt sure that he wanted something from her. Did he also want her healing blood, so he could test it on his
hobby
?

“How long has it been there?” said Tali.

“I first noticed it half an hour ago.”

“What’s it been doing all that time?”

He stared up at the creature, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“I’m very much afraid,” said Holm, “that it’s watching us.”

The gauntling turned and began to describe slow, descending circles, high above the boat.

“It’s coming down.” Tali retrieved the crossbow and loaded it.

“Not sure it’ll be much use against a shifter that size,” said Holm.

“How can you tell how big it is?”

“You get used to judging sizes and distances, at sea. Reckon its wingspan is a good fifteen feet.”

Three times Tali’s own height.

“And it’d need to be…”

“Why?” said Tali.

“I reckon it’s carrying a rider.”

Tali rubbed her eyes, which were sore from all the sea spray. As the gauntling descended, she made out legs hanging below the middle, but not the spindly little legs of the gauntling she had seen above Fortress Rutherin.

“It’s spying for Lyf. When it reports back, they’ll send a boat after us.”

“And not cockleshell craft like we dealt with last time,” said Holm. “They’ll send a proper boat, and they’ll be prepared for anything.”

“Can you hide from it?”

“Pray for a storm, or for the fog to thicken,” he said, “though I wouldn’t want to navigate these waters in either. Likely as not we’d come to grief on a reef or a berg. Keep watch.”

The gauntling was still descending in slow, sweeping circles. Was it coming down to make sure of her identity? She paced the deck, checked the crossbow, and checked it again.

She put it down and bent over, rubbing her sore eyes. When she straightened up, the gauntling was gone.

It could not have disappeared; it must be behind a cloud. Though the clouds were too high, and the scattered fog banks, hanging above the water, seemed too low.

“Holm?”

“Yes?”

“The gauntling’s disappeared.”

He ran out. “Where did you see it last?”

“Up there. I just rubbed my eyes for a few seconds, and when I looked for it, it wasn’t there.”

“I suppose it’s gone back to report,” said Holm. “Keep watch in case it’s hiding behind an iceberg. I’m just popping below.”

The nearest iceberg was a good mile away. He returned to the wheel and the boat turned towards a fog bank half a mile off. It wasn’t much of a hiding place. The gauntling could circle above it, waiting for the fog to thin, or direct searchers in boats back to the area.

She was staring up at the sky when there came a shrieking whistle behind her, like wind howling across tortured wings. Tali whirled to see the gauntling hurtling low over the water, its clawed feet extended, straight for her.

“Holm! It’s here!”

Where had she put the crossbow? She turned around, around, around. There it was, right where she had left it. She grabbed it, aimed for the creature’s chest and fired, but her hands were shaking and the bolt missed.

Still Holm did not reply. The rider stood upright in the stirrups, pulled off a helmet and a cascade of black, wavy hair streamed out behind her. Lizue! She had tried to kill Tali before and she was here to finish the job.

“Holm,” she shrilled. “It’s Lizue.”

Tali scrabbled another bolt out of the bag, slammed it into the groove and desperately wound the crank. She would not hesitate this time. If she got a chance to draw bead on Lizue’s chest, she would put a bolt right into her heart.

Where was Holm? She shot a glance over her shoulder and he was not at the wheel. That’s right; he’d gone down the ladder and might not have heard her.

The gauntling shot across the deck, directly above. Tali fired and seemed to get it in the tail, which lashed about like a dying snake. Lizue sprang off. As she soared through the air, arms outstretched, Tali was struck by two contrasting thoughts: how extraordinarily beautiful Lizue was, and how determined she was to cut Tali’s head off.

There wasn’t time to reload the crossbow. Lizue slammed into Tali, knocking her to the deck. She tried to whack Lizue in the face with the crossbow. Lizue elbowed Tali so hard in the nose that her eyes flooded with tears, momentarily blinding her, then struck her on the elbow. Tali’s forearm went numb and the crossbow skidded away across the deck.

She blinked away the tears and jammed a finger into one of Lizue’s eyes. Lizue reared back, dropped her head and attempted to butt Tali in the face. Tali elbowed her in the mouth, splitting her lip.

Lizue heaved Tali onto her back and jammed her left knee into Tali’s belly, pinning her to the deck. Her thigh was bandaged where the Sullen Man had stabbed her. It looked swollen and fresh blood was seeping through the bandage.

The injury must be exceedingly painful – how had Lizue kept going all this time? After Tali had taken that Cythonian arrow in the thigh, out in the Seethings, only intensive healing magery had allowed her to walk on it. Tali clubbed her fist, swung it around and drove it against the stab wound with all her might.

Lizue threw her head back, let out a shriek and fell backwards, her teeth bared. Tali rolled over and scrabbled across the deck, desperate to get out of reach. Lizue was her master in every respect and fighting her hand-to-hand could only end one way. But as she regained her feet, Lizue overcame the pain and attacked with a flurry of punches, trying to finish Tali as quickly as possible.

A blow to the jaw rocked her backwards; a second blow to her nose sent blood gushing from it.

“Holm!” she gasped. “Help.”

Was he absenting himself deliberately? Could he be working with Lizue? He had tracked Tali down immediately after Lizue’s first, failed attack, after all. Had he brought Tali this way so as to sell her to Lyf?

She stumbled backwards, looking around for a spar, the boathook, or anything else she could use as a weapon. Her lack of fitness was telling on her, and the weakness in her knees told her she could not resist much longer.

From a small pack on her back, Lizue withdrew a head bag like the one she had used in the cells. She slid a heavy knife from a sheath on her left thigh, and advanced. Tali went backwards until her back was against the side of the boat. If she moved left she would be trapped at the stern; on her right, a winch blocked her way.

How could she beat a fanatical opponent who carried a knife as big as a machete? Tali’s one advantage was that Lizue could not do her serious harm before she had the head bag securely over Tali’s head. She could not risk destroying the pearl. And Lizue had a weakness. Her thigh.

Tali groped behind her in the open compartments that ran along the sides of the boat, but felt only coils of rope and other items that were useless for self-defence. How could she attack Lizue’s thigh wound? She could not use any of the tricks Nurse Bet had taught her, for Lizue knew them all. Something new, then? No, a combination of old and new.

Tali attacked with a flurry of right-handed blows intended to divert her attacker from her real attack, a roundhouse left to the throat. Then, as soon as Lizue moved to defend against the blow, Tali raised her right foot and slammed her boot heel into the thigh wound.

Lizue screamed, dropped the head bag and fell back against the side of the boat, blood flooding from the wound. Her beautiful face was twisted in agony. Tali had to finish this now; she could not fight for one more minute. She crouched, seized her attacker’s ankles and, with a swift heave, dumped her overboard.

“Did I hear you call?” said Holm from the top of the cabin ladder.

“About an hour ago,” she snapped. “Where the hell have you been?”

She picked up the boathook she had used earlier and stood ready for when Lizue tried to reboard.

“I was at the crapper,” said Holm, coming to the cabin door. “Wasn’t aware that I was supposed to ask your permission.” He looked down at the bloody deck, up at Tali’s heaving bosom and scarlet, bloody face, and his weathered face paled. “What’s going on?”

“Lizue happened. She tried to take my head. Again!”

Lizue’s head and shoulders shot from the water. Her eyes were staring and the sea was red with her blood. Her arms caught the side of the boat, heaved and she was on the side.

“Not this time,” Tali said savagely.

She jammed the curve of the boathook against Lizue’s chest and shoved hard. Lizue slid off into the water and floated there on her back, her blood staining the sea around her.

A grey fin cut the water. The sea churned and a huge, grey head burst out. Jaws opened, revealing dozens of backwards-angled teeth. A single snap took Lizue’s bleeding leg off at mid-thigh. She screamed until foam gushed from her mouth. Her hands caught the gunwale and she tried to pull herself up, but the jaws opened again, closed around her middle and pulled her under.

Even when she was screaming, even when she was about to die, Lizue was still the most beautiful woman Tali had ever seen.