Another shot rang out and Bronson hit the street again, rolling away with the force of the bullet, but the vine around Smithe’s legs didn’t let go. Keelin saw Smithe’s nasty little knife lying on the ground between them. Smithe saw it too.
“Cap’n,” the quartermaster cried, clawing at the ground as the vine dragged him away. “Help!”
Keelin had been waiting for this chance for so long. A perfectly reasonable way to rid himself of the man who had challenged his authority for years. No one would argue that the captain was to blame if Smithe was killed in HwoyonDo by a murderous spirit that had taken over Bronson’s body.
Keelin turned away.
With a growl that was frustration at himself as much as the situation, Keelin turned back and ran to his quartermaster’s aid. He couldn’t deny he wanted to be rid of the man, but he wasn’t about to sacrifice Smithe to the evil spirits of a land he had led them to. Besides, no matter how much of a hateful bastard Smithe was, he was also part of Keelin’s crew.
Keelin kicked Smithe’s knife within the quartermaster’s grasp and drew Elaina’s sword from his belt, skidding to a stop by the pirate’s legs and hacking at the vine that held him tight. Bronson started to rise again, and Keelin left Smithe to free himself and closed in on the monster that had once been one of his crew.
He slashed, putting his weight behind the blow, before Bronson could get his cutlass hands up to block. The sword buried itself in the big pirate’s neck and damned near cut all the way through, but it was a short blade and Bronson had a lot of muscle. Vines erupted from the wound, snaking up around the almost-severed head. Keelin stumbled backwards and collided with Smithe, who was also staring in horror.
“Fuck it,” Smithe said quietly.
Keelin glanced at his quartermaster and nodded. “Agreed.”
They turned and ran after the rest of the group, leaving Bronson’s struggling form behind them.
When they reached the gate, Keelin turned back to the ruined city of HwoyonDo. Bronson had given up the chase and joined Feather on the rooftops, charging after Kebble as the marksman leapt from roof to roof, occasionally turning to offer the monsters combat.
“We can’t leave him,” Keelin whispered, trying to think of a way to rescue Kebble.
“We can’t help him,” Elaina said. “We have no way to kill those things. Besides, I kind of think he wants us to go.”
“What do you know?” Keelin snapped. “He ain’t one of your crew.”
One more shot rang out and something hit the gateway beside them. Keelin glanced at the stone, and then back towards the city. He couldn’t make out what was happening in the dim light, but he knew Kebble couldn’t keep fighting forever. Sooner or later the marksman would slip up and the spirits would take him.
“Let’s move out,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Stick close together and move quickly. We’ll drink a toast to the fallen when we’re back on the ship.”
Chapter 48 - The Phoenix
Kebble staggered out of the doorway and onto the moonlit street. He was bloody and weary, limping and using his rifle as a crutch. He had nothing left, and despite his best efforts the spirits were still chasing him down. From behind came the chittering of millions of insects and the crash of Bronson searching the building. Still, he limped on, unable to simply give up and let them catch him.
Immortality, he decided, was a strange thing. He’d spent so many years searching for his death, yet now that it was stalking him and the end was near, he found he couldn’t outrun it fast enough.
His strength wavered and he collapsed onto one knee. For a moment all he could do was sag against his rifle and cough. The rattle in his chest sounded wet, and he knew that was a bad sign. After a moment he looked up. The great library of HwoyonDo rose up in front of him.
“Fitting.” Kebble pulled himself back to his feet and staggered onwards down the ruined street, a ruin he had caused. He mounted the library’s steps slowly, twelve of them leading up to the grand doors. As a child, and even a young man, he’d climbed the stairs two or three at a time, always in a rush to get to the books, to learn. Now he struggled up each one, putting more and more weight on his rifle.
He paused at the threshold, the doors themselves having long since succumbed to time and rotted away. For just a moment Kebble considered turning back. The ghosts within the ruined library were even stronger, almost as though they were real, rather than just figments of his imagination. Kebble shook his head and staggered inside.
A thick layer of dust coated the floor, and moonlight streamed in through a hole in the roof high above. The front desk was long since gone, only dents in the stone proof that it had ever been there. To either side stood the bookshelves, row upon row of them stretching up into the darkness. But they were all empty, the books long since turned to dust. All of the knowledge the Empire had ever garnered, gone. Only Kebble remained, only his memories of those books remained; and after a thousand years he’d forgotten half of all that he’d learned.
In front of Kebble stood a statue, one of the six faces of his god. The scholar held a book in one hand and a knife in the other, a reminder that knowledge can be used as a weapon. Kebble collapsed at its feet, dropping his rifle and turning to lean against the cold stone. His breathing was painful now, a sharp stabbing in his chest with every draw.
Two figures stood at the doorway, silhouetted against the light. One was tall and broad, surrounded by a writhing mass. The other was small, made smaller still by the lack of a head, and there was a sea of insects creeping towards Kebble. Angry spirits finally come to finish the job.
Something tore inside him, and Kebble gasped, closing his eyes against the pain in his chest. When he opened them again a man was standing in front of him. He was tall and regal, with flowing brown robes and a face that was all too familiar. Kebble attempted to sit a little straighter, but his arms wouldn’t respond. It seemed wrong to slouch so much in front of a god.
“I suppose…” Kebble coughed and tasted blood. “Both our times are finally over now. I’m the last one, the only one who still knows your name. We’ll fade from this world together.” There was a symmetry to it that brought a smile to Kebble’s bloodied lips.
The scholar stared down at him, a book in one hand and in the other a gold statue of his six faces, each one with different gemstones for eyes. It was the statue that belonged in the temple – the temple his crewmates had looted. Kebble looked up, realisation dawning. His god was smiling at him.
Chapter 49 - Starry Dawn
Elaina stumbled through the trees onto the sandy beach and raised a hand to her eyes to ward off the sun. Blinking away the glare, she looked up and down the coastline.
“There,” Aimi said, pointing down the beach.
Elaina squinted, and her heart started to hammer in her chest. A ship floated leisurely in its anchorage just a short way from the shore. The Phoenix had never been such a welcome sight, not even when Tanner had first shown it to his daughter and made her captain.
The remains of the expedition trudged one by one through the last of the trees and onto the sand. They were weary and beyond exhausted, but all eight of them had survived the trip back from HwoyonDo.
“Oh, blessed fuckin’ sea,” Jotin growled through a parched throat, dropping to his knees on the sand and rolling onto his back to stare up at the bright blue sky.
Pavel collapsed the moment sand was under his feet again. The priest was used to relative comfort, and Elaina wagered he’d never experienced anything like the hardship they’d all just been through. His crimson robes were ripped and stained dark with sweat and worse, and the man looked as though he’d lost every bit of fat on his body; his cheeks were gaunt and his eyes sunken.