Best Laid Plans (24 page)

The mass of fur moved and Shadrak was borne along with it. For once he was cursing his strong sense of smell. “Shit” would have been doing the stench a disservice. It was far worse than that. Yellow eyes glared at him, hungry for his flesh, but the creatures displayed remarkable willpower. None of them touched him. Sektis Gandaw was clearly a master to be obeyed.

The throng parted at the foot of the gangplank and Shadrak took his body through a series of stretches. The heat was oppressive, a hazy mist rising from the jungle floor and lending the trees a dreamlike quality. The tangled vines and creepers almost seemed to writhe, the moss upon the bark shifting into patterns that could have been faces. Shadrak’s cloak was already heavy with damp, but he refused to remove it. Best be prepared for anything, he told himself as he checked his remaining weapons: the stiletto he’d stabbed Shader with, the
thunder-shot
, and half a dozen razor stars. No more exploding vials. He frowned at that. As soon as he got back to Sahul he’d need another trip to the hub of the Maze.

They’d stopped at a natural harbour, a widening of the estuary that was hemmed with roughly built jetties. One other boat was moored on the far side, a small fishing vessel by the looks of it. Shadrak squinted. There was a man sitting at the oars, casting nervous looks in their direction. A group of mawgs had noticed too and waded into the water.

A hulking brute lumbered towards him, rows of needle-like teeth protruding from black lips.

‘Take statue to village,’ it growled. ‘Give to Krylyrd.’

Shadrak held its predatory gaze. After a tense standoff the mawg looked down. Shadrak noted the backwards bend of its knees, the tough
ened leather of its torso. The limbs were protected by thick fur, the face as rigid as an old saddle. Points of weakness: eyes and armpits. If the jaws were open he’d fancy his chances with a blade through the roof of the mouth. Tough bastards, these mawgs. Always paid to know your enemy.

The mawg snarled and turned away, almost running on all fours as it rejoined the pack. There must have been a hundred or more entering the jungle, and at least as many still onboard the galleon. Barks and growls passed between the ship and those on the shore. Ropes were uncoiled and the gangplank was raised.

Shadrak was distracted by a chorus of yelps and the sound of splashing from the group who’d entered the water. They were swimming towards the fishing boat at an alarming speed. The oarsman half stood, teetered, and steadied himself on the side of his craft. He quickly set about untying the rope tethering him to the jetty. The instant he resumed his seat and lifted the oars, the mawgs capsized the boat and ripped into his flesh. Blood sprayed in a fountain, a dark stain spilling across the water.

When Shadrak looked back to the galleon it was already underway, drifting back down the estuary towards the ocean. Presumably a lift home wasn’t part of the arrangement. Still, if the mawgs had been ordered to kill him, they’d have done so by now. Evidently Sektis Gandaw had other tasks in mind for Shadrak.

He was about to start after the pack that had all but disappeared into the jungle when a dark shape flitted across his peripheral vision. Shadrak crouched down, pulling his cloak about him, but it was too late. He’d already been spotted.

Coal-fire eyes burned into him, and for an instant Shadrak froze. What could you do against an enemy that couldn’t be killed? Cold dread sluiced through his veins and his body grew weary and leaden.

What’s the point of despair?
Kadee’s level voice commandeered his thoughts.
Eingana will break the sinew when she’s ready, and there’s not much you can do about it. But she does expect you to go down fighting.

Shadrak clenched his jaw. That’s what Kadee had done: gone down fighting against impossible odds. Unfair, perhaps, but she’d never complained about it.

He fought back the trembling as the wraith soared closer, its rusted chainmail and age-yellowed tabard growing more substantial. A blade of black fire appeared in its hand.

Shadrak took a step towards the jetty where the fishing boat was moored, but the creature seemed to sense his intention and moved to intercept him. Plucking two razor stars from his baldric, he held them beneath his cloak and waited.

The wraith towered above him, a brooding shadow that shut out the sunlight. Its sword arm extended towards him, the black blade a hair’s breadth from his throat.

‘The statue you stole from the knight,’
the wraith hissed, holding out a spectral hand as if there were no choice but to comply.

Something grey sprang from the trees and the ebon sword swept down, slicing through fur and hide as if it were nothing but air. The mawg’s severed torso fell to the jungle floor amidst spurts of brackish blood.

Another mawg shoved Shadrak towards the tree-line and launched itself at the wraith, snarling and clawing. Shadrak hurtled through thick vegetation, the death cries of the mawg spurring him on. Thorns tore at his cloak and scratched his face. He hurdled a log, charged straight through a bramble bush, and swung across a patch of bubbling mud on a liana. Cold frost assailed his back and it seemed as though a black cloud pursued him. Chill air swirled about his neck and he felt the icy touch of a spectral hand. He threw himself to one side, flinging the razor stars one after the other. Both hit the mark, but passed through the wraith with no effect.

Scrabbling backwards, Shadrak drew the
thunder-shot
and pulled the trigger. There was a faint click, but nothing more. That’s why he always made such a fuss about being prepared. Should have gone back to the hub for more bullets before going after Shader.

The shadow-knight stalked towards him, making no attempt to defend itself. What would have been the point? The situation was hopeless. Nothing Shadrak could do would halt its progress. All his skill, all his training, and there was no chance. Life just wasn’t fair.

He backed away and tripped over a fallen trunk. Terror sapped his strength and despair flooded his heart. Shadrak reached into his pouch and withdrew the serpent statue. He held it out to the wraith, but the creature turned at a demonic screech from behind.

A ferocious looking mawg clad in crocodile hide and human bones snapped shut its jaws and shook a gourd in front of the wraith. A sharp
rhythmic beat cut through the air and the mawg began to hop and gesticulate. Its face was contorted into a grotesque leer, its body taut, fingers clutching. The wraith drifted towards the mawg but was halted by a violent thrust of the gourd and a bloodcurdling scream.

‘No! You cannot stand against me! I am Callixus!’
the wraith cried as it swirled into a black mist and was sucked forcefully into a vortex above its head.

‘Ha!’ The mawg clapped his hands with glee. ‘Gone to the Void!’

Shadrak climbed to his feet.

‘I Krylyrd,’ it said. ‘Shaman of Sektis Gandaw. Come, you have what he wants. He be pleased with Krylyrd. You see.’

‘S
ail ho!’ Elpidio hollered from the crow’s nest. Podesta jabbed his rum bottle in the direction of the black galleon skirting the coast of the archipelago and then took another swig. ‘Seems our reaver knows her business.’ He let out a burp. ‘Coastal reef must have taken a thousand ships at one time or another.’

Shader clung to the forestays, swinging as the ship careened to starboard. They pitched into a deep trough and then righted, the bowsprit ploughing into another colossal wave. If Podesta hadn’t looked so blithe, Shader would have panicked and kept as close as he could to the longboat. On second thoughts, he’d have probably lashed himself to the mainmast and prayed. Maybe this once Ain would take pity on him.

Podesta could quite as easily have been strolling in a tranquil garden, the roiling waters affording about as much attention as a pleasing blossom or a passing butterfly. The finding of the boy aboard the
Dolphin
seemed to have settled him. It didn’t matter that the child wasn’t eating and had a raging fever. He’d hardly stopped coughing since they found him, and his skin was waxy and pale. It seemed he’d taken a few scratches, which had turned nasty. Sabas had been charged with caring for him. Podesta’s job was apparently done.

‘Don’t worry about the reef, my friend,’ he said. ‘I’m given to exaggeration. Can’t have been more than a hundred wrecked.’

Shader took scant comfort from that.

The black sails of the reaver bulged like swollen stomachs as they caught the wind.

‘Heading south into open water,’ Podesta said, squinting over the prow. ‘Not their usual hunting grounds.’

The Captain knitted his brows and gazed into his half-empty bottle. ‘Can’t understand why we’ve not run into more of them.’

Shader was well aware the Captain had been expecting trouble from the mawgs. The crew had been practising with more Aeterna-tech weapons—long slim barrels that blasted smoke and fired lead balls at frightening velocities. Cleto had been below decks pouring over the hand-written notes that had come with the shipment.

It seemed that the Templum archives had developed a leak, and it wouldn’t have surprised Shader if it had come from within. There had been pressure on the Ipsissimus for years to return the knowledge of the Ancients to the world, not least of all from his likely successor, Exemptus Silvanus. Shader couldn’t say he was too impressed with the weapons Podesta had procured. They took an age to load and sometimes exploded in your face. They also seemed ill-suited to fighting at sea. Cleto had made the discovery that the volatile powder responsible for producing the blast was rendered useless if exposed to damp. They’d have been better off with a couple more of the devastating weapons Cleto had used earlier; it might have only given them a single shot, but at least it had been a good one.

The
Aura Placida
sailed on past the archipelago and entered a strait between two larger islands. They tacked towards the northernmost shore and into a narrow estuary. All around the deck sailors scanned the shoreline whilst holding cutlasses, crossbows, and the Aeternam weapons.

The estuary broadened as they followed it inland until they entered a natural harbour fringed with mangroves. Jetties made from huge logs cut across the water. Podesta was frowning at them and tutting.

‘Don’t like this,’ he said. ‘Don’t like it at all. Where are they, uh?’

Shader spotted an upturned boat bobbing beside a jetty off the starboard side. ‘Doesn’t look mawgish,’ he said.

Podesta snapped open his spyglass and took a look. ‘It isn’t. That’s a Sahulian fishing boat, or I’m a teetotal landlubber. Now what the shog is that doing all the way out here, uh?’

‘And where’s the crew?’ Shader said.

Podesta’s face was grim as he looked to the helmsman. ‘Turn us into the wind, Mr Dekker.’

‘Aye, Captain.’

Podesta cupped his hands to his mouth and his voice boomed out. ‘Furl the sails! Ready the anchor!’

Shader gave him a questioning look.

‘Don’t want to be caught in the shallows, uh?’ Podesta said. ‘We’ll take the longboat. That way, if the reavers come, the ship still has a fighting chance.’

The air grew still and humid the further they got from the ocean, leaving the sailors sweat-drenched and complaining as they went about their tasks. Shader removed his armour and unbuttoned his shirt. He borrowed a cutlass from Podesta to make up for the loss of his longsword. Sabas filled a backpack with provisions for him, and there was just about room enough to cram the Liber in on top.

Podesta left Dekker in charge and then climbed into the longboat beside Shader. The near-invisible Osric drifted at the bow, red eyes smouldering at the lapping waves. Cleto was next aboard, shouldering one of the Aeternam weapons, a cutlass swinging from his hip. Two more armed sailors followed him, stripping off their shirts and taking the oars.

The heat intensified as they took a tributary river into the mangroves. Here and there the muddy banks were scarred with skid marks that led down to the water.

‘Crocodile launch sites,’ Podesta said.

Shader’s eyes were fixed on the water for any sign of movement.

‘The crocs out here are big,’ Podesta said, seemingly unconcerned. ‘Seen them up to thirty foot. Tear a boat apart in seconds. Not much you can do about it if they attack, eh? Might as well not worry.’

‘Thanks for the reassurance,’ Shader said, fingering the pommel of his shortsword. ‘Thought we’d have seen more mawgs by now.’

‘Crocs probably got ’em,’ sniggered one of the rowers.