“They’ll do,” Stryke announced. He turned to Pepperdyne. “Is the weather right?”
“Tide’s up and there should be wind enough. But if we don’t go right now it’ll have to be tomorrow. I wouldn’t relish steering through those straits in the dark.”
Stryke bellowed the order and embarkation got under way.
Once everybody was on board he had the containers lined-up ready on deck. Braziers were stoked, for igniting the fuses. Archers and spear-carriers lined the rails. Jad was dispatched to the crow’s nest, and other grunts swarmed on the rigging. The sails dropped and the goblin ship’s peculiarly embellished anchor was raised.
Pepperdyne had taken the wheel. Coilla was at his side, clutching a bow. Stryke roamed the decks, scolding, encouraging, swearing. Dynahla stood alone at the prow, crimson hair flowing in the clement breeze.
They set off.
The band fell into a tense silence as the craft gradually started to move. Any exhaustion they had from working all night fell away as they scanned the waters, alert for the slightest sign of anything amiss.
At length, and painfully slowly, the ship nosed its way into the open sea.
“So far, so good,” Pepperdyne half whispered.
Coilla dragged her gaze from the ocean. “Maybe all that work was for nothing.”
The sails were swelling. They started to pick up a little speed.
“At least we’ve got an addition to our armoury,” he said. “This Acurialian fire could be useful if-”
They saw Dynahla’s head turn their way. The shape-changer was shouting something, but they couldn’t get the sense. A heartbeat later Jad was crying out from the crow’s nest and pointing. It was the prelude to a general uproar from those on deck.
Ahead of them, and off to starboard, the water was troubled. A leathery dome broke the surface, larger than any they had ever seen on a temple or a tyrant’s folly. It rose inexorably, growing bigger, shedding water and glistening repellently in the light. Several tentacles appeared, thicker than a main-mast and garlanded with seaweed.
Pepperdyne frantically spun the wheel. Sluggishly, the ship began turning to port.
Dynahla was heading their way. Thundering up the stairs to the helm, Stryke got there first.
“Can we lose it?”
Pepperdyne shook his head. “Don’t know. Maybe if we’d been under way a bit longer…”
The Krake was still rising, water cascading from its coarse hide. The ship rocked in the swell.
Dynahla arrived.
Before the fetch could speak, Stryke barked, “What was it you said about clouding that thing’s mind?”
“How do you think we got this far? I’ve bought us a little time. Use it!”
Pepperdyne applied all his skill to manoeuvring the craft. The Krake was still ahead and a lot nearer. It wasn’t in their path, but close to it. As the ship swerved to its new course, away from the creature, the Krake surged forward, as though to cut them off. It was hard to tell whose speed was the greater.
They avoided a collision, but found themselves uncomfortably close to the beast. They were still veering. It continued to advance. The gap was closing fast, and the Krake’s tentacles stretched their way.
“We’ve no choice now,” Coilla said, glancing at Stryke.
“So we take the bastard.”
Even though he was coming to know the orcs better than most other humans had, Pepperdyne was taken aback at the wild, almost crazed smiles Coilla and Stryke exchanged. The orcs’ hunger for a fight, whatever the odds, was as deeply ingrained in them as cruelty was in his own race.
“Try to keep us clear of it!” Stryke bellowed.
Pepperdyne nodded and bore down on the wheel. Coilla nocked a cloth-headed arrow. Dynahla clutched the rail and stared intently at the looming monster.
Stryke made for the stairs and the deck below. The Krake was a writhing mountain now, blocking out the light. The air had a fishy stink to it.
“Steady!” Stryke yelled at the band. “ On my order!”
Spears and arrows were poised over the braziers. Torches were held ready for the bombards to be lit.
A tentacle brushed the side of the ship. To the Krake, it was no more than a tap, like a hatchling’s gentle nudging of a toy boat. It felt like a small earthquake to the Wolverines. The ship listed violently. Several band members lost their balance and fell. Unsecured objects slid across the deck, and the port side took a drenching.
“Now!” Stryke bellowed.
The archers were first. A swarm of burning arrows streaked towards the groping tentacles. All struck. The range was close enough that many penetrated, sizzling as they delivered their blazing cargo. Those that didn’t pierce still left a stamp of fire on the creature’s moist flesh. The nearest tentacle, peppered with glowing, fizzling bolts, dropped back underwater. Another immediately replaced it, and a second cloud of radiant arrows soared its way.
The main bulk of the Krake, its ravenous eyes and gaping maw, could be seen clearly now beyond a growing forest of waving limbs. Arrows like darting fireflies sprayed them. Once the tentacles were running with flame they fell back, but the Krake was only slowed, not deterred.
Stryke was fearful that if it got into range the creature would dispatch tentacles under the ship to upend or crush it. And it was almost near enough to do that. His dilemma was that the Krake was still too far away for the bombards or spears to reach it. The point at which it would be near enough, yet not threaten the ship, was a fine judgement. All Stryke could do was urge on the archers and bide his time.
On the bridge, Pepperdyne and Coilla watched as the fiery rainbow of arrows arced towards the encroaching beast.
“The arrows can’t last much longer, surely?” Pepperdyne said, spinning the wheel.
Coilla had an arrow nocked herself. She applied flame, aimed and sent it winging to the Krake. “No,” she replied, plucking another shaft from her quiver. “I’m surprised they’ve lasted this long, the rate we’re using them.”
He looked to the mass of living flesh bearing down on them, then back at her. “I don’t know that we can get away from this thing.”
“If anybody can do it, you can.”
“I’m flattered, but your faith might be misplaced. The Krake’s moving nearly as fast as we are, despite what we’re throwing at it.”
“We haven’t thrown everything yet.”
He gave the wheel another hard tug. “Maybe we’d better start.”
Coilla unleashed her arrow.
A wave of displaced water swept in, rocking the ship again, and more violently than before. The orcs in the rigging had their work cut out hanging on.
Stryke judged the time right to strengthen the assault; the Krake seemed near enough. He just hoped his estimate of the gap separating them was accurate.
At his command, the band began lighting bombards’ fuses. A moment later they were flinging them hard, adding their power to the volley of arrows. The distance was a challenge, and took all the throwers’ strength, but most of the missiles found their target. On contact with the Krake they exploded with much greater force than the arrows. Some burst reddish when they struck, others yellow-blue or orange, depending on the glutinous liquid mixed with the oil.
“Best you can do?” Haskeer taunted.
Jup glared at him. “I might be throwing less than you, but at least I’m hitting the bastard.”
“Yeah? Beat this.” He lit a fuse, drew back his arm and took aim. With a grunt he lobbed the flame-tipped pot.
They watched it streak against the darkening sky. It briefly disappeared from sight in the confusion of explosions, flaming arrows, smoke and thrashing limbs. It showed itself again when a reddish-orange bloom erupted on the side of the creature’s gigantic head. Tendrils of fire rippled out from the blast, marbling the Krake’s leathery hide.
Haskeer shot the dwarf a superior smirk.
“Stand back,” Jup said, hefting a bomb.
He launched it like a discus, spinning round for momentum and letting go with a roar. The projectile soared high and fast. It, too, impacted on the monster’s glistening dome; a blood-red blossom, sending out rivulets of lava.