The Soul Sphere: Book 01 - The Shattered Sphere (38 page)

“Demetrius!” Lucien called.

“I’m fine!” he shouted back. “Focus on what’s before you. I’ll take care of myself.”

Whether Lucien wanted to heed the words or not did not matter, as a half-dozen Dead rushed him at once, forcing him to see to his own defense.

Demetrius saw two Dead advancing toward him at the same time, one—a recently fallen comrade—going slightly left, the other—a skeleton dead for many years—coming straight at him. The dull yellow teeth and the red glow in the eye sockets gave the latter the appearance of sporting a devilish grin, as if it understood its quarry was wounded. Demetrius stole a quick look at the damaged leg as he slid it backward. Not much blood flowed from the wound, and at least for now the leg would hold him. As long as he didn’t have to run…

The two Dead tried to strike together, but the more recently deceased member of the team fell several feet from its target. Rowan and Alexis had come to Demetrius’ aid, and he only had to parry a few blows from the skeleton before Alexis’ spear smashed first into its ribcage, then its skull. Rowan raced past to team up with Lucien.

“Can you make it to the ships?” Alexis asked.

“While fighting,” he confirmed stubbornly. He pointed at her shoulder, where a nasty slice had been torn and from which blood flowed freely. “You’re hurt.”

“But not badly. As long as—”

They heard a cry for help, a pair of Delvishmen having been backed up against a small building by a dozen foes. Three other Dead were working their way down the roof, preparing to drop on the unsuspecting men. As Demetrius and Alexis moved in to help, Tala fired arrows that delayed the assault from above. Together they cut a hole in the semi-circle, and with the two rescued men now added to their number made a fighting retreat. The inner west gate of the city came into view as they worked down an alley and onto the city’s main east-west road. The Dead closed from three directions, forcing all who yet lived to flee to the west.

The six who quested for the Sphere were joined by thirty others who fought and fell back together, needing to pass through an inner and then an outer gate. Men and women still held both gates, ready to close them when none were left in the city but the Dead and the dying. Compassion overcame planning at the first. No one in Demetrius’ group could confirm there were not others behind them needing egress, and the thought of trapping someone alive inside caused a hesitation among the defenders that allowed the Dead to gain control of the gate before it could be closed. Seeing what had happened, and that several gate-holders were killed in the belated retreat, the outer gate was closed as soon as the ever-dwindling group of defenders passed through, the gears then spiked to delay re-opening. The outer gate was more a large sewer drain than anything else, allowing the run-off from the city to work its way into the bay, and now what was meant to handle waste was the only escape for the last living occupants of Upper Cambry. A small group on the west wall dumped a pile of rocks and debris down before the gate, then scaled down ladders to join the last refugees from the city. Upper Cambry had fallen.

Corson found Demetrius and then saw the arrow in his friend’s leg. Without comment he leant him a supportive arm, and together they hustled to the bay.

Most of the larger ships had set sail and were making their way across to Lower Cambry, but two were relatively close to shore. Smaller rowboats had carted the escapees out to the larger ships, at first with some semblance of order but more recently with a growing panic, sparked by the terrified flight of most of the city’s defenders when the second wall fell. Several boats were now moving away from the shore, some with only solitary oarsmen who had decided to escape before the Dead closed on their position. Shouts on and off the shore added to the confusion, as did the ever-deepening darkness of night.

A boat with four oars took on a dozen warriors, and another ten held onto the side and floated away with it. The oarsmen pulled furiously, seeing the Dead now pouring over the wall and out of the city and scrambling over the rocks scattered about the base of the west wall.

“This way,” Alexis said to her friends. Thirty yards to the south she had found a small boat with a woman and her daughter at the oars. The girl was no more than twelve, and wore the same hard expression as her mother.

“How many?” the woman asked as Alexis took hold of the boat to steady it.

“Six,” she replied.

“We can squeeze in more if we need to,” the woman said, although the boat was sized to hold only four comfortably.

“I think we are the last.”

The woman and her daughter helped everyone on board, then wordlessly yielded their places at the oars to Rowan and Demetrius. Now that it was time to be away, speed was the singular focus.

Before they had moved away from the rocky shore, Corson said to Rowan, “Let me and Lucien take the oars. Demetrius and Alexis are hurt.”

Tala was already tending Alexis’ shoulder, using straps of cloth that the woman was tearing from her skirt. “I can see to her for now,” she told Rowan. “Demetrius has an arrow in his leg that needs to come out.”

Rowan leaned close, struggling to see in the darkness. “I’ll need some light.”

“Not until we’re across,” Demetrius said. “We don’t need to give them a target. I’ll be fine until then.” Rowan helped him switch positions with Corson, while Lucien took Rowan’s place.

Corson and Lucien set to work, the smaller man expending an extra effort to keep the boat from moving in a circle. In the confined space the rowing action caused a great deal of jostling among the boats’ occupants. Everyone tried to give the rowers as much room as possible, but the small boat could not allow them complete freedom of movement. Demetrius grimaced as he pulled his leg away from Lucien’s straining back, which flew toward him with each powerful stroke.

The night was moonless, the shimmering stars doing little to chase away the darkness. Lower Cambry was lit by torches to give the boats a target toward which to row. Upper Cambry shone in the night as well, the shadowy outlines of the Dead Legion visible around the burning city.

Tala thanked the woman for her courage. “We could have easily been trapped back there.”

“I would have taken up a sword, but my husband begged me to stay with our daughter.”

“I would have fought too,” the girl said defiantly.

Her mother smiled at her with a fierce pride and stroked her stringy hair. “I know you would. But we have served as we could.”

“That you did,” said Alexis, “and bravely.”

From the lights on each shore Demetrius guessed they were halfway across. His leg throbbed with pain, and when he put a finger to the wound it came away slick with blood. Rowan had prayed over him, and Demetrius had to admit it had helped, but the uncomfortable position in which he had to sit soon re-aggravated the injury. Rowan spelled Corson at the oar, and Demetrius was thankful Lucien, at least on this short trip, had the strength to go on.

New sounds suddenly filled the night in their wake, quickly drowning out whispered conversation and the slap of the oars on the water. Demetrius turned too fast, the arrow catching on the side of the boat and cracking the wooden shaft. He choked off a scream of pain, and then in frustration snapped the shaft where it had broken and pulled the rest through his leg. His muted cry as he did so was lost in the screams that now filled the night. He clamped a hand on the wound and looked up just in time to see the larger ship that bore down on them, a ship coming fast from the south. In an instant the small boat was fractured and its occupants dumped into the frigid water of the bay.

Demetrius returned to the surface spitting water. He ignored his howling leg and moved to the intact larger ship on instinct. He gained purchase on some netting and allowed himself to be pulled along while he regained his senses. From the deck a few feet above he saw volleys of flaming arrows soar into the night, most being doused in the bay or tossed back out of the watercraft they struck, but some finding living targets and others setting sails ablaze. Naval warfare had made a surprise appearance in the conflict.

Others had latched themselves onto the boat as it raced into the heart of the small flotilla escaping Upper Cambry. Demetrius saw Corson and Alexis and a dozen others he did not recognize. With silent nods they agreed it was time to act.

Demetrius was slow pulling himself up and over the side of the ship, his leg hampering his movement, and when he finally set his feet on deck the battle was fully joined. What caught his attention immediately was Lucien, who fought with an angry rage that was extreme even for a goblin. Everything in his path was laid waste, the Dead either cut down or cast overboard. Lucien had led a group up the other side of the ship, and if the Dead outnumbered the living when the battle began, they clearly did not now. While the others finished the task of taking the ship, Demetrius found himself slumping against the railing, the blood from his wound warm against his chilled flesh. Unable to fight effectively, he turned his attention to what was happening around him.

The darkness made it difficult to tell friend from foe, but the ships that now burned in the bay added a grim backdrop to the fighting. Debris was scattered over the surface of the water, and hand-to-hand fighting took place on at least two other ships. A dozen ships, two as large as the one he was on but most smaller, were quickly being consumed by fire.

A man named Jazda took charge of the ship along with several of his men, as they were captain and sailors by trade. They turned the vessel and moved in a path parallel to those boats still trying to reach Lower Cambry, calling out to establish whether they overtook allies or enemies. Silence was an indication that those aboard were Dead or dead, the latter soon to join the former in fighting for Solek. Lucien led a pair of raiding parties, which easily overcame the resistance the Legion offered. These foes had been lightly armed, and did not enjoy the massive advantage in numbers their land-based fellows did. Soon the little armada was in the hands of the living, and while they had gained two new boats, they had lost six or seven times that many, and had suffered many casualties. Still, Corson was led to remark that it could have been much worse.

Demetrius agreed while he busied himself wrapping his wound. “Have you seen the others?”

“Lucien’s hard to miss. Alexis is still on one of the boats we retook.”

“Tala? Rowan?”

Corson shook his head. “Not the woman or her daughter, either. But it’s very dark. They could be anywhere.”

“Captain Jazda!” Demetrius called.

The captain stepped over to where the two men conversed.

“Can we circle back and look for others fallen overboard? We should be able to use torches now. We’re well out of bow range of the Dead back at Upper Cambry.”

“It’s worth a try, although we’re just as likely to drown someone as rescue them, even with the torches. I’ll signal a few of the rowboats to join us as well. The rest will press on.”

“Thank you,” Demetrius said.

Jazda looked at his leg. “Had a surgeon once, but he died six months back. I might have had some drink that could have taken the edge off, but the Dead put that at the bottom of the bay. I can have one of my men look below if you’d like, see if there’s anything that might ease the pain.”

“I’m okay,” Demetrius said with a rueful smile. “That dip in the water seems to have numbed things sufficiently for now.”

The captain bowed and took leave of them, ordering his men to bring the ship about and begin the search for survivors.

The work was slow and grim, more so because each corpse needed to be retrieved and rendered ineffective for service to the Legion. As each waterlogged body was hauled up, Demetrius, Corson, and Alexis silently held their breath, fearing whom it might be. Lucien sat alone, staring blankly into the distance and keeping his own thoughts. When dawn broke they had rescued seven, recovered thirty-four dead, but found no sign of their companions or the woman and her daughter who had helped save them.

The captain exchanged a quiet word with Demetrius and then ordered the crew to head for Lower Cambry. As they neared the shore a ragged band of survivors waited, many with expectant and hopeful looks that would soon turn to despair. Toward the city—or what was left of it after the earlier assault by the Dead Legion—a camp of sorts had been set up.