actually looking reasonably at ease. He had spent much of his youth sailing these waters as an
apprentice whaler, until he‘d decided his true skills lay in the courteous but deadly cut-and-thrust
of trading diplomacy. ―The wind will be directly behind us then.‖
Theod grunted, and eyed the bucket just beyond the end of his bunk. It was sliding about
the floor, to and fro, to and fro, and its grating across the floorboards made Theod think of the
horrible moaning that gripped Gwendylyr during childbirth.
His stomach cramped and then roiled violently, and Theod did not begrudge his wife a
single moan. He lunged for the bucket and retched into it, his fair hair hanging in damp strings
over his face.
Gods!
He sat for a few minutes until he thought his stomach had finally emptied itself of
everything he‘d eaten over the past six weeks, then pushed it away and struggled back to his
bunk, wiping his mouth.
―I wish I could get some fresh air,‖ he muttered.
Goldman glanced up at the prism set into the deck above them. ―Nay, sir Duke. ‘Tis still
dark night. Terror clings to every mast and railing, and slides down the sails, seeking entrance
below decks.‖
Theod lay down on his bunk and closed his eyes, pretending he might be able to sleep.
He had hoped—they had all hoped—that the Demons‘ influence might not extend over the sea,
but although the grey hazes seemed slightly diluted, they were still powerful enough to drag any
caught in them deep into the bowels of madness. Everyone had to spend the Demonic Hours
trapped below deck. Theod had worried that the ships might strike rocks, or whales, or whatever
sea monsters lurked beneath the rolling grey waves, but the master of the ship, Hervitius, had
said the ships‘ helms were roped and locked onto course, and there wasn‘t much the ships could
strike in this weather.
―All monsters will have dived deep,‖ Hervitius had soothed the previous afternoon, ―for
they dislike the slap of the rolling waves as much as we.‖
If the sea monsters couldn‘t stand it, thought Theod, wishing sleep would come steal him
away from this horror, then how can we cope with it?
―Sir Duke?‖
Theod repressed a sigh and opened his eyes.
DareWing had entered, and was standing as easily on the rolling deck as if he stood in the
sunlit audience chamber of a Queen‘s palace.
―Gods, DareWing,‖ Theod whispered. ―How do you manage?‖
DareWing raised a black eyebrow in feigned surprise, although in truth he was rather
enjoying the predicament of the majority of Acharites. Once the Icarii had contemptuously
referred to them as Groundwalkers. Now DareWing wondered, although not unkindly, if they
should resurrect that as Waveretchers.
―This?‖ DareWing said, and looked about the cabin as if it were indeed a pleasant
audience chamber in some pastel, scented palace. ―‘Tis nothing compared to the turbulence of a
summer thunder thermal.‖
Theod tried to glare at the Strike Leader, but managed only a slight frown.
Holding his breath against the demands of his stomach to retch yet again, he rolled slowly
over and sat up.
―What is it?‖
―Dawn lights the eastern horizon. Another hour, and we can emerge from this wooden
coffin.‖
―Good.‖ Theod managed to stand up, clinging white-knuckled to the bunk support. ―Does
Hervitius have any idea where we are?‖
DareWing nodded, and generously placed a hand under Theod‘s elbow. ―The first light
reveals the coastline, some two leagues to the east. Peaks…mountains.‖
Theod‘s face brightened. ―The Murkle Mountains?‖
―Aye,‖ DareWing said. ―We should be in the Bay by this afternoon.‖
―The gods be praised!‖ Goldman said, standing up himself. He slapped his belly. ―Has
breakfast been laid on?‖
DareWing looked disgusted. ―Sailor food, Goldman. Fried whale blubber. In oil. With
cold salted herring.‖
Theod groaned, bent over, and surrendered to the howling of his stomach.
By noon the ships had tacked into the relative calm of Murkle Bay. The waters were
clearer now than they had been for generations. With the destruction along the lower reaches of
the Azle during the battle between Timozel‘s and Axis‘ forces, the tanneries that had once
poured their thick pollutants into the bay had disappeared, and neither Theod nor Zared had
wanted to rebuild them. During summer, Murkle Bay had become something of a summer retreat
for many of the wealthier Tencendorians, and several small houses had been built along its
shores.
The mountains themselves rose tall, grim and silent about half a league inland from the
gritty beach. Theod had never been able to understand the attraction Murkle Bay had for the rich
and idle, but supposed a summer weekend spent here constituted the closest many of them would
ever come to adventure.
Well, now he supposed that a good many of them were lining the mines of the mountains,
embroiled in an adventure they would never have willingly paid for in a thousand lifetimes.
―The beaches are deserted,‖ DareWing muttered by Theod‘s side, his eyesight far keener
than that of the Acharite.
Theod nodded, keeping his own eyes slitted against the cold, salty wind. ― If they had
scouts posted, and if they had spotted us, then it is doubtful that any would actually want to leave the safety of the mines.‖
He squinted at the leaden sky, searching out the brightness of the sun behind its layered
greyness. ―We have but an hour to go before mid—‖
The ship suddenly keeled over to starboard, and Theod slipped and would have fallen had
not DareWing, half in the air, grabbed him.
―What‘s wrong?‖ Theod said, echoing a half-dozen shouts behind him from crew and
soldiers alike.
The ship lurched again, and this time it felt as if it were being bodily lifted out of the
waves. Theod clung to the deck railing, and peered over the side. They were being lifted out of the waters! He could see exposed barnacles on timbers normally hidden, and below
them…below them…something glistening grey and purple.
Something scaly.
―DareWing,‖ Theod shouted, ―get the Strike Force into the air!‖
DareWing was already airborne and shouting orders himself.
Theod, struggling on the damp decks, managed to look back to the other ships.
At least a third of them were in a similar predicament to his vessel, rolling alarmingly on
the backs of…of some kind of sea creatures, and raised at least the height of a man, perhaps two, out of the waters.
On all of the ships men scurried, seizing weapons, some tying themselves to railings and
masts, while members of the Strike Force rose into the air, fitting arrows to their bows.
Theod looked back along the deck of his own vessel. ―Hervitius,‖ he yelled at the master,
clinging grimly to the useless helm.
Hervitius shook his head. I don’t know what it is!
Theod looked about. ―Goldman!‖
The Master of the Guilds, for once pale-faced, struggled along the deck towards him.
―No-one knows what they are, Theod,‖ he gasped, forgetting all formalities amid his fear.
―I can‘t tell if—‖
The ship lurched again, and threatened to founder completely. Theod glanced over the
side—sweet gods, they had been raised more than the height of a house above the waters!—and
then lunged for a pike from a rack attached to the forward mast.
He seized it, started back for the railing, slipped as the ship lurched again, then managed
to scramble across the deck and lean over the side.
He steadied himself, took a deep breath, and then stabbed the pike down with all his
force. It speared into the scaly surface of the creature with a wet thud, leaving only a third of its
length protruding.
For a breath, nothing, then…
…then the entire ship rocketed for the sky. A frightful wail rent the air, and Theod
screamed with it as a head from nightmare shot above the level of the deck. It looked like that of
a horse, save there were no ears, it was covered in bright purple scales, and was the size of an
entire horse itself.
Purple lips peeled back from rows of squat thick teeth that looked like anvils, and then
the head shot downwards, seized a piece of railing between its teeth, and ate it.
Someone grabbed Theod‘s arm, and as the sea monster‘s head darted downwards again,
felt himself being pulled backwards.
The sea monster‘s head slammed into the deck where Theod had been standing, and
emerged with a mouthful of splintered planks. It chewed, swallowed, then seized the edges of the
jagged deck again and shook its head. Several nails pierced its bulbous tongue, but this did not
appear to overly concern the creature.
The entire deck began to rise, screaming as wood splintered and nails gave way. The sea
monster shook its head, trying to worry the wood free, and Goldman dragged Theod back to the
shelter of the cabin, where Hervitius and several of the crew were huddled.
Another head appeared over the side of the ship, and then another, and then a fourth.