After lunch, Saire led the group through the ville to the docks. Donfil had begged off accompanying them, saying he had things to attend to. Ryan wasn’t sure if that was the truth, or if Donfil was really afraid his presence would affect the trip—or what they hoped to find. Either way, he didn’t blame the man. If the boats they’d be sailing on were anything like the usual vessels, Donfil’s height would be more of a minus than a plus.
Other than the ever present, slightly brackish smell of the nearby lake, the ville was neat and orderly, reminding Ryan uncomfortably of Poynette. But he dismissed his twinge by the simple fact that Donfil would never have fallen in with cannies, and it was obvious that they all subsisted on and made their living from the wide-open expanse of water stretching beyond the horizon.
The sturdy wooden dock shook under their feet as they walked out to take a look at the craft they’d be using. The ship was about forty-five-feet long, and appeared to be flat bottomed, with a main mast containing two reefed sails, a large one on a jib in front, and a smaller one behind the mast. What at first glance looked to be a crazy tangle of lines snaking every which way turned out to be, upon closer examination, neat groups of ropes that controlled the sails and held the mast in place. There was a very small belowdecks area, but no cabin that Ryan could see. It looked large enough for
about a half-dozen people to work comfortably. Four men bustled about on the deck, clearing lines and readying the vessel to make way.
“A Dutch barge!” Doc exclaimed. “I haven’t seen one of these for—well, a long time, anyway.”
Saire nodded approvingly at the old man. “You know your boats, white-hair. The
Lament
was hand-built by my father from the plans we’ve kept safe for the past seven generations. She’s the sturdiest, fastest vessel on the lake, and should be the perfect bait for those things.”
J.B. slowly walked from the foredeck to the aft section, most likely measuring lines of fire. He glanced up after his inspection. “Got any idea where we’ll most likely run into them?”
Saire nodded at a boat with faded red sails on the other side of the long dock. “Those boys who returned before lunch, part of the
Gravelax
’s crew, said the one they took the arm from was found north of here, ’bout ten miles up. Figured we’d start there and work our way down the coast, see what we reel in either way—fish, amphibian or both.”
“Donfil said you had two boats. Any objection to sending them both out, that way if one’s in trouble, we have backup from the other?”
Saire nodded at the ship next to his, which might have been the
Lament
’s twin. “No one goes out alone anymore, not since these attacks began. The
Banshee
’s ready to sail, too, so all we need is to figure out who’s going on which boat.”
Ryan stroked his chin as he pondered that exact same question. If he had his druthers, he would have left Doc on shore, maybe Mildred as well. However, she would be good in the event anyone got injured, and Doc… Well,
even Ryan had to admit that, as much as he liked him, sometimes the old man seemed sort of like a millstone around his neck. But, just when he thought the old man’s train had finally gone off the rails for good, he pulled something out of his hat—like that crazy torch in the rat’s lair, without which Ryan was sure none of them would be standing here right now. With a shrug, he assigned their places.
“Krysty, you and Jak’ll sail with me on the
Lament
. J.B., you, Mildred and Doc will go on the
Banshee
. Everyone got what they need?” After everyone nodded, Ryan turned to Saire. “Ready when you are.”
The other man leaped aboard, his exposed skin flashing in the sunlight. “Welcome aboard the
Lament
. As soon as you’re secure, we’ll cast off.”
Ryan stepped onto the barge, expecting to feel the boat shift under his feet, but was pleasantly surprised to find the deck solid and sound underfoot. The boat rocked a bit on the water, but overall felt as sturdy as the dock itself. He extended a hand to Krysty, who stepped aboard a bit gingerly, her face lighting up as her boots touched the deck. Jak vaulted the low rail with a flourish and leaped up to the roof of the cabin, already scanning the horizon for their planned route.
“Prepare to cast off!” Saire walked to the captain’s wheel at the rear of the boat and snapped out more commands. “Cast off bow line! Cast off aft line! Hoist sail!” After each one, the crew moved in perfect synchronicity to prepare the small ship for sailing. With the last command, the furled sail was released from its gaskets and raised to catch the wind. Saire guided them away from the dock with minute movements of the wheel. In a few minutes, the barge was heading smartly out to deep water, leaving the coast farther behind. Behind
them, the
Banshee
trailed about a quarter mile off the port side.
For the first part of the trip, Ryan concentrated on getting his sea legs. The lake was calm, and the boat’s keel cut through the water smoothly, but he knew fighting at sea was tricky at best and lethal at worst. While he’d never consider himself entirely at home on the water, so far this was the most pleasant experience he’d had, particularly compared to previous encounters. Being attacked by the loathsome Pyra Quadde on her whaling ship in Claggartville where they’d left Donfil, or getting caught in a power struggle among various pirate empires in a chain of tropical islands was not his idea of a good time. This, however, with the warm afternoon sun on his face and the barge slicing through the placid water, was pretty close to perfect at the moment.
Lost in his memories, he almost missed Krysty’s light touch on his arm. “You might want to watch this before Jak does something really stupe.”
Shading his eyes from the late afternoon sun, Ryan looked over to see the albino teen balancing on the narrow rail of the boat as easily as if he was out for a stroll after lunch. As if he knew eyes were upon him, he arched back into a graceful handstand, walking back and forth on his palms. One of the crewmen was watching in open admiration, but Saire wasn’t nearly as amused.
“Cawdor! Get your man off my rail! We tack over and he’s not ready, he’ll end up in the drink, and you can go in after him!”
Ryan was loath to stop the teen’s fun—he figured Jak could probably handle the change in direction better than some of the crew—but called over anyway. “Jak!”
Without looking at him, the youth pushed off the railing high into the air, turning a complete somersault
before landing on the deck with hardly a sound, just as Saire called to the crew.
“Ready bait lines!”
The others picked up wooden poles as thick around as Ryan’s wrist and set them in heavy-duty metal brackets bolted to the deck. Each had a thin line attached to one end, and the other end of the line held a large, steel, three-pronged hook, about as big as Ryan’s closed fist. As he watched, the men baited the hooks with large chunks of fish, then readied them to go overboard.
One of the mates, a lanky fellow named Rubon, noticed Ryan’s attention. “Now you’ll see how we bring them up on the lakes, lubber!”
“Cast bait lines!” Saire shouted. As one, the four men tossed the hooks overboard, the meat-laden snares vanishing into the green-blue depths.
“We troll for the large ones out here. The bait hooks moving through the water attracts the fish’s attention, it moves in for what it thinks is a tasty snack, and wham—” Rubon smacked his hands together “—we got him. Then the real fun begins.”
Ryan thought of the large hook, and of the size of a fish that would take that bait. He started to reach for his holstered blaster for backup, but stopped at the other man’s snort of laughter.
“Don’t even bother using that pea-shooter. It’d barely bother the fish we catch.” He picked up a nasty-looking harpoon, a two-handed weapon easily six feet long, with a triple-barbed iron head at the end. “We have to play them until they get tired and surface, then finish them off with this.”
“Sounds like fun—” Ryan’s words were cut off by the other man.
“Got one!” Just as he announced it, the boat heeled
over sharply, resisting Saire’s efforts to hold the wheel steady. Rubon felt the taut line and grinned. “A big one!”
“Stop yawpin’ and get on the winch!” Saire snapped. “I’m not letting the best fish we’ve caught in three weeks get away!”
Rubon looped the free end of the line with the fish on it to a large cylinder with a handle on the end. Once lashed tight, he began cranking on the handle, drawing in the line with each turn.
The winch clicked with each revolution, and Ryan saw that it had teeth to lock the cylinder in place, so the line couldn’t play back out unless the operator released a small catch. The tight line quivered as Rubon played it back and forth. Then it suddenly slackened, dropping to the deck.
Ryan frowned. “What happened? You lose him?”
The whipcord-thin man scooped up the harpoon and went to the side. “Nope. He’s comin’ up. There!”
Ryan looked out in time to see a slim, torpedo-shaped fish burst from the water about twenty yards away and arch, wriggling, into the air. It was a dull brown monster, easily twenty feet long, and he marveled at its size as it reached the apex of its leap and fell back into the lake.
“Huge muskie! Get on the winch!” Rubon hefted the harpoon in his other hand and waved Ryan at the crank. “Take in the slack!”
Grabbing the handle, Ryan turned it as fast as he could, watching the line tighten again as he cranked. Shouts from the other side of the boat told him they had something else hooked as well. The boat shook as the pair of huge fish pulled it one way, then the other.
“He’s coming up again! If he’s close enough, I’ll try to spear him!” Rubon leaned over the side of the barge,
harpoon at the ready. The line slackened again, and Ryan cranked hard on it, trying to draw the huge fish as close to the boat as possible.
“Here he comes!” Rubon tensed, trying to judge where the fish would leap so he could strike with the greatest accuracy. The water erupted a few yards off the starboard side as the huge fish launched itself into the air again. His arm cocked, the fisherman hurled the harpoon into the animal, the triple barbs sinking deep into its body just behind the head.
“Got him!” Rubon ran back to the winch mechanism and grasped it, his hands over Ryan’s. “Crank hard and fast!”
The two men put their backs into it, turning the winch as fast and hard as they dared. The rope grew taut again, then even tighter, making them use all their strength to move it. The thick rod was bent in a large curve, but it showed no signs of breaking.
“We must have him right next to the boat!” Rubon said. “Come on, let’s have a look!”
Grabbing a gaff hook, he ran to the side and leaned over. “Yup, got him. C’mere, Ryan, you’ll wanna see this.”
Ryan made sure the winch was secure before going to the side of the barge. Rubon was leaning over, reaching down with his hook to apparently snag the giant fish. Ryan was only a step away when the water exploded over the side, drenching him. He had just enough time to duck away as another fish, easily as large as the one they had just caught, reared out of the water. Its mouth agape, it heaved its upper body over the railing and caught Rubon squarely in the needle-sharp teeth of its open jaws.
The poor man didn’t even have time to scream as the mutant muskie’s stilettolike teeth sank into his chest. The momentum of the fish’s body sent it back into the water, and Rubon was dragged off his feet and into the lake. One moment he was there, the next he was gone, even before the water drops thrown off by the giant fish had finished falling to the deck.
“Fireblast!” The moment he’d sensed the danger, Ryan had hit the deck, blaster in hand. “Man overboard!”
The rest of the boat was still distracted by the battle for the second hooked fish, but Saire, still at the helm glanced over at Ryan. “What?”
“Said man fucking overboard!” Ryan rolled to the rail and peeked over, scanning for the killer fish. The body of the caught muskie was floating parallel to the
Lament
, and he saw no sign of the one that had gotten away—and taken Rubon with it. No blood, no body parts, no froth; it was like the man had simply vanished. “Another big bastard fish came up while we were securing the first and grabbed him!
That
ever happen before?”
“Blind NORAD, no!” Saire crossed himself rapidly, then grabbed the wheel as the entire boat shook from a large impact on its hull. “What the hell—they’re ramming us!”
“Who is?”
“The goddamn fish, that’s who!” Saire lashed the wheel in place and grabbed a gaff hook, walking toward Ryan as he did so. “I’ll be damned if I let them sink my ship! Look out!”
Feeling a shadow fall over him, Ryan ducked and rolled forward, away from the rail, just as he heard a
thunk
behind him. Twisting as he came to his feet, the one-eyed man rose and came face-to-face with the enemy.
The lizard-creature was short—perhaps five feet tall—but broad and very muscular. Covered in scales so dark a green they seemed almost black, it had the standard two legs, two arms and a head, with a short, thick tail lashing the air behind it. Its face was a distinct blend of human and lizard, with a segmented fin atop its hairless head, no ears to speak of, just a small hole on either side of its skull, wide, black eyes, a vestigial nose that was little more than two tiny holes, and a lipless mouth opened wide in a hiss that revealed double rows of small, serrated teeth. A biowep?
A short, rusty harpoon was clutched in its clawed, webbed hands, which it thrust at Ryan with amazing speed as he tried to line up his blaster on its chest. Back-pedaling to avoid the barbed tip, Ryan stumbled on a coil of rope and lost his balance, throwing out his free hand to avoid falling on his back. The mutie pressed its advantage, jabbing the spear at him, then drawing back just as fast, the edge slicing into his blaster hand. Ryan tried to keep his grip on the weapon, but his fingers popped open, and it slid from his grasp. Grabbing the slick shaft of the spear, the one-eyed man wrenched it to one side as his other hand went for his panga, knowing it was probably too late, and expecting his enemy to lean
in and impale him at any moment. But he wasn’t going to make it easy for the lizardman.
A roar from behind him startled both Ryan and the mutant, who looked up in time to see a gaff hook swing at its head. The thick pole cracked into the creature’s skull, making it stagger to one side. Saire followed up his attack by reversing his weapon and coming at the humanoid again, leading with the butt end. At the same time, Ryan used the distraction to shove the spearhead into the deck and scramble to his feet, drawing his panga in one smooth action as he did. Unfortunately, as he rose he realized that Saire and he were facing off against not one of the aquatic attackers, but three.
“Shit!” Ryan quickly glanced behind to make sure no more of the scaled bastards were trying to sneak up on them. On the other side of the boat he heard grunts, a brief shout, and an agonized scream that didn’t sound human before being cut off by the thunderclap of a large-caliber blaster. Over the side, he heard splashes as either more of the giant fish or the next wave of lizardmen approached the boat. But at the moment, he only had eyes for the three monsters in front of him, and every fiber of his being was attuned to making sure he survived the next few minutes.
He stood at a slight angle to the boat captain, Ryan facing left, Saire facing right, forming a two-person wedge. The captain kept the two on his side at bay with tight jabs at their faces. Besides the spear, one had a rusty hatchet lashed to a pole, making a crude halberd, the other carried a pair of foot-long knives, one up and one down, and moved like he had some idea how to use them. Ryan marked him as the most dangerous at the moment, since he could defend and attack at the same time.
The three paused for a moment, as if taking stock of the situation, then rushed the two men. The halberd-wielding one blocked Saire’s gaff hook, trapping it with the bottom of the hatchet blade and forcing it to the deck. His partner with the twin knives came in over the tangled weapons, one blade flashing in the sunlight as it came down at Saire’s head.
The captain dropped his weapon, leaving the first lizardman to try to untangle the two shafts. Engaging the immediate threat, his hand snaked behind his back to draw a slender blade and stab at the lizardman’s throat while blocking the blade coming at his face. Both moves succeeded, but he unfortunately left himself open to the second blade, which slashed deeply into his chest, making him grunt in pain. Impaled on the blade, the mutie thrashed and bucked, its sudden, limp weight driving Saire to the deck.
Ryan had his own problems, as his attacker was using the spear’s longer reach to try to get around his guard while avoiding the panga’s heavy, slashing blade. The lizardman bobbed and weaved, trying to catch Ryan’s arm or face. Hearing Saire’s grunt, Ryan moved to end his duel fast. The next time his opponent jabbed at his head, he grabbed the shaft, making sure his fingers were well behind the head. As he’d suspected, it was metal, affixed to a wooden handle.
Caught by surprise, the lizardman tried to jerk the spear out of his hand, but Ryan moved forward with the weapon, shoving it up into the air. As soon as it was high enough, he reached underneath and swung his panga out in a broad arc—not at the lizardman, but at the weapon’s handle. The thick blade chopped into the wood, splintering it and separating the spearhead from
the wooden haft. Still pulling, the lizardman stumbled backward, clutching the broken piece in his hand.
Pivoting, Ryan reversed the spearhead so the point faced down and drove it between the shoulder blades of the halberd-holding mutie, who had just gotten his weapon untangled from the gaff hook. With an agonized croak, he shuddered once and slipped to the deck, black blood spurting onto the wood.
Ryan checked on Saire, who was shoving the lifeless body of the third lizardman off him. Bright blood stained his shirt, but he waved Ryan off. “Get that other bastard.”
Needing no more encouragement, Ryan stalked forward toward the third mutant, who had gripped the haft like a club in front of him, and was making a low, clicking noise in its throat. Ryan stopped just out of reach of the club, balanced on the balls of his feet, waiting for the creature to come to him. Glaring at him, the lizardman sprang, but not directly at him. Instead, it leaped to the edge of the cabin, gripping the roof with its clawed toes and pushing off in an all-or-nothing attack, the club raised high to brain his target.
It was almost too easy. Sidestepping the falling mutie, Ryan lashed out, his panga sinking deep into the lizardman’s knee. The blade hacked through muscle and sinew, destroying the joint and sending the creature smashing hard onto the deck, squealing in agony. The club skittered from its fingers. Ryan brought the panga down on its head, cleaving through the skull and into the brain. A rush of vile-smelling fluid spurted over his hand as the mutant spasmed and died.
“Ryan!” The shout whipped his head around to see Saire trying to fend off another pair by bracing his gaff hook over his prone body. One lizardman was about to
break through his defense, while another was already charging at Ryan.
Ryan brought his blade down on the mutie’s back, but it was already on top of him, and slammed into his midsection even as the panga bit into its flesh. The impact drove Ryan back against the side of the cabin, making the breath whoosh from his lungs. He raised the short machete again even as his opponent reared up, trying to slam the top of his head into Ryan’s jaw. Twisting his head, Ryan got an eyeful of the mutie’s hissing face up close, one of the most disgusting sights he could remember. Rotting scraps of fish were stuck in its mouth, and its fetid breath almost made him vomit. It lunged forward, its needlelike teeth snapping at his nose, and Ryan jerked his head back just in time.
The lizardman got his hands around Ryan’s throat, claws digging in to tear out skin and flesh. Realizing he had only one chance, Ryan snaked the panga’s blade under the lizardman’s chin and drew it across his throat in one quick slash. The keen metal opened a second mouth in the mutie’s scaled skin, and another gush of cool, foul-smelling blood poured over him. Its mouth opening and closing in a vain attempt to suck in air, the mutie released him, its hand clutching at its throat in a vain attempt to stem the black tide flowing out between its fingers. Ryan lifted his foot and shoved the dying creature back toward the side of the ship, grinning as the backs of its legs hit the wooden rail, and it fell overboard.
Even as it disappeared from sight, he was already moving toward the second mutie, who had just torn Saire’s broken gaff hook out of his hands, and was about to brain him with the jagged hook end. In one giant step, Ryan moved right behind him and swung the panga
with all his strength. The heavy blade hacked into the creature’s shoulder joint, pulverizing the entire ball-and-socket in a crunch of shattered bone and spraying blood. The lizardman wailed in agony, the hook slipping from its hand as it turned to swipe at Ryan with its good arm. Evading the clumsy claw, Ryan wrenched the panga blade out of the rubbery hide and swung at its free arm, severing the hand at the wrist. The creature screamed again, a strange, burbling sound that grated on Ryan’s ears. Shoving the end of the panga blade at the mutie’s open mouth, he herded it back toward the railing, and with one final push, sent it over the side into the churning sea.
After confirming there were no more lizardmen attacking, a second quick glance told him that both Krysty and Jak were all right on the other side of the boat. Only then did Ryan go to Saire’s side. “How you doing?”
“It’ll take more than that to put me in the dark deep for good.” The captain had torn his shirt into strips and created a makeshift bandage to stem the blood flow. “Who’s at the wheel?”
Ryan poked his head up to see the lashed ship’s wheel with no one behind it. “No one.”
“Well, get me up and over there. I’m not letting these overgrown minnows tear my ship apart!”
Slinging Saire’s good arm over his shoulder, Ryan hoisted him to his feet and helped him over to the wheel. Spying Jak at the railing, looking over at the teeming mass of fish below, Ryan was about to warn him to step away when a gust of wind made the barge heel over to the port, tipping the deck precariously.
At the exact same time, a thunderous crash reverberated through the entire hull, shaking the deck and mast. Jak had just kept his balance when the boat had leaned
over, but the impact knocked him off his feet and over the side. Twisting in midair, he clamped a hand on the railing, hanging on as his lower legs hit the water.
“Jak!” Krysty was already reaching for him, and Ryan pitched Saire toward the wheel and leaped onto the roof of the cabin. He needed only a few seconds to get to the teen and pull him back up.
Ryan hit the deck with a crash and lunged forward, but just as he reached the railing, a slim shape burst from the water. Mouth gaping wide, the muskie hit Jak around the midsection, its teeth sinking into the albino as the force of its jump knocked his grip loose, taking him with it into the roiling lake.