A spirit drifted past Kebble. He couldn’t see them, not like some could, but he could feel them. It was their hatred towards him that he sensed. It was hard not to feel that much malice emanating from something, even an ethereal whisper like the spirits that infested what had become of the empire.
Another spirit floated past, and then another, and another. Kebble found himself assaulted from all sides by the hatred flowing from the creatures. They were all going the same way, towards the temple.
Kebble broke into a run. He needed to warn the others what was coming.
Chapter 45 - Starry Dawn
They walked in silence for a long time after leaving the Observatory. Elaina could tell Keelin was deep in thought, and she could guess the subject. It wasn’t every day someone asked you to betray a friend and sit your arse down on a throne. Not that the pirates had a throne. Now that Elaina thought about – and she thought about it quite a lot – she wanted one. A crown seemed a little ostentatious, but all kings and queens had thrones, and some of them were more than a little grand. Elaina imagined a nice wooden chair, tall and exquisitely carved out of driftwood salvaged from their enemies’ scuttled navies. The image brought a smile to her face.
Keelin stopped and threw up a hand so suddenly that Elaina walked into it.
“What the fuck…” she started, but the complaint died in her throat.
Bronson was back, and the big pirate looked even worse than before. The roads were quite well lit, with the clouds clearing up and the moon and stars shining down upon them. Even in the dark, Elaina could see the man wasn’t only infested with spirits; the vines that crawled along the walls of the buildings had taken up residence in his body as well.
Dark green cords wound up his legs, through his bloody skin, and inside his body. There was a small, wiggling end protruding from Bronson’s ruined eye. The pirate’s skeletal hands had been snapped away, and in their place sat Keelin’s lost cutlasses, wedged into the ragged flesh of Bronson’s arms and held in place by coiling vines.
“I’m starting to form a real dislike of this city,” Keelin said quietly.
“You always were a bit slow, Stillwater,” Elaina replied, taking a shaky step forward. If she could get close to Bronson without him attacking, it was possible she could hypnotise the spirits again. Hopefully she could distract them long enough for Keelin to deal some damage.
“We should be able to take him together,” Keelin said, though he didn’t sound too certain.
“Maybe you ain’t noticed, Stillwater,” Elaina said, already beginning to sway from side to side as she approached the thing that had once been Bronson, “but he’s pretty mangled and he ain’t down. Killing these things ain’t really an option.”
“So what should we do?”
“Hamstring the fucker and run like all the Hells are behind us. Which is pretty close to the reality of it.”
It was almost like a dance as Elaina moved step by step towards Bronson, swaying from side to side as she went. It was a trick she’d learned back on Fango, only back then she’d never thought she’d actually have a practical use for it, as none of the spirits there were homicidal.
Bronson lurched forwards. Elaina saw the cutlass coming and could do nothing to stop it, couldn’t dodge it. The world seemed to slow, and then she was flung backwards past Keelin and rolling in the dust.
Elaina shook her head and looked up. Keelin was wielding her sword with a skill beyond her own, swatting away Bronson’s wild slashes and scoring a number of hits on the bigger man’s body. The damage didn’t so much as slow him down.
Bronson brought both cutlasses over his head and down, forcing Keelin to block. Driven to his knees, there was nothing Keelin could do but yelp in surprise when a vine ripped its way out of Bronson’s forearm and wrapped itself around Keelin’s hands.
Elaina leapt past the restrained captain, right inside Bronson’s reach, and planted her little dagger in the monster’s good eye, then ripped it out and slashed at the vine holding Keelin.
Tearing himself free, Keelin shook his hands violently until the damned thing fell away. Elaina danced away from a wild swipe and crashed into him, sending them both rolling in the dirt.
Keelin was on his feet first and helped Elaina to hers. His hands were red and blisters were already beginning to show, but they had bigger concerns in the form of a mad spirit attempting to slice them in two.
Bronson was thrashing about wildly, swinging from side to side with Keelin’s cutlasses. The man opened his mouth as if to scream and another vine thrust forth, ripping through his cheek and coiling about his neck.
Elaina glanced at Keelin and then nodded upwards. Keelin nodded back; he’d seen what she had – they’d switched positions with Bronson, and the big pirate was now between them and the Observatory. Elaina scooped a rock from the ground and hurled it at the spirit-infested pirate, a last distraction before she and Keelin turned and fled.
Chapter 46 - The Phoenix
Kebble watched the six figures fleeing through the streets. From his elevated position they looked so small. They ran with reckless abandon, terrified by the lone follower. Only he wasn’t alone. From his vantage point, Kebble could see the ground moving with the creatures that flowed after the expedition.
It was a trick of the mind, and Kebble squinted to see past what his head was struggling to comprehend. The earth wasn’t moving; it was the millions of insects crawling and scuttling along that made it look as though the ground were giving chase itself.
The six fleeing pirates probably didn’t even know just how much danger they were in. Clearly the spirit that had taken and warped Feather’s body was no mere angry whisper – more like a bellow of rage. Kebble hadn’t realised they could grow so powerful.
Kebble leapt across a fallen skybridge and ran from rooftop to rooftop in an attempt to keep his comrades in sight. They were moving in the right direction, though he didn’t think they would make it out of the city without his help. He only hoped they would be safe if they made it back to the forest.
Some of the six were starting to flag and fall behind. The priest of Pelsing was more stumbling than running, and the others weren’t faring much better. The insects and Feather’s body weren’t moving quickly, but their pursuit was steady, relentless. Echoing shouts reached Kebble’s ears and he saw the priest stagger to a halt and drop to his knees, clutching at his chest. Smithe skidded to a halt and ran back to him, shouting. The cry echoed up through the buildings, but Kebble couldn’t pick out the quartermaster’s words. Smithe grabbed the priest beneath his arms and hauled the smaller man to his feet, giving him a rough shove to drive him onwards.
Kebble heard another shout, and he set off at a sprint for the south side of the rooftop. There, looking down into the streets below, he saw Captains Stillwater and Black also running for their lives, chased by a figure that looked a lot like it had once been Bronson. Any vines Bronson passed came to life, wriggling and detaching themselves from the walls they infested, slithering along the ground like snakes.
Kebble ran across a skybridge and then across the next rooftop, leaping over a small gap to another new building. He could see the gate from his position, and it wouldn’t be long before the expedition could too. The wards on the gate were designed to keep the forest out, but they’d long ago failed; it was unlikely they would work now to keep the forest in.
Kebble moved quickly to the east side of the rooftop and took up position, drawing his rifle from its sling and bringing it up to his shoulder. Looking down the sight helped him concentrate, helped him focus on the details.