‘Good work, Denser,’ said Ilkar. ‘Let’s move, they’re readying to cast again.’
Hirad sensed the ForceCone deploy, carefully and under total control, and The Raven started on up the corridor.
‘Selik,’ said Hirad. ‘I can get Selik.’
‘No. We have to go now,’ said Ilkar. ‘Ready Raven?’
‘Ready.’
‘Heading left at the deck, keep those shields up. Run!’
Selik appeared at the frozen cabin door, sword in hand. Hirad waved, turned and ran, shouting over his shoulder.
‘Bye bye, Selik. ’Til next time. Push that Cone, Ilkar, there’s trouble at my back!’
The elf released the Cone, flinging it full spread at the casting mages and Black Wings, punching them from their arc by the door.
‘Ilkar sword, guard stern to starboard. Denser, Erienne, hang on to those shields. I’ve got the rear.’
The Raven burst on to the deck, Ilkar sprinting left, slithering on the greasy, wet timbers. Behind him came Denser, hand-in-hand with Erienne, daggers drawn, and finally Hirad, Selik at his back, the Black Wings dragging themselves to their feet in front of him.
The ship rolled and Hirad fell to his right, tumbling on to his back and around on to his knees, dagger sprung from his grasp and sliding away. Scrambling back to his feet, he raced back towards the port side. Selik’s head appeared at the aft doors. Hirad cursed, sword in his wrong hand to strike and instead lashed out with his left fist, catching the Black Wing leader on the side of the face, and hearing Selik’s head connect with the door frame as he ran past.
‘Yes!’
Steps behind him spurred him on, and ahead a Black Wing ran down the side of the wheel deck after the mages. Hirad slid into the rail to brake himself and charged after the soldier, striking overhead with his blade and slicing deep into the man’s exposed neck and back. He pitched forwards, sword flying out of his hands and flipping just over Erienne’s head and out into the raging ocean, his flailing hands catching her and dragging her over.
Denser slowed.
‘Go!’ yelled Hirad. ‘I’ll bring her.’
He kicked and hauled the body of the dying Black Wing aside, grabbed the elbow of the scrabbling Erienne and pulled her towards the stern.
‘Shield down,’ she said. ‘Shield down.’
To illustrate, a crossbow bolt hissed past and thudded into the rail. Hirad ducked reflexively.
‘Gods. Go!’ He pushed her ahead of him. ‘Go!’
Erienne turned the corner, Hirad right behind. As he slid to turn, a crossbow bolt tore into the flesh of his calf, the impact throwing him from his feet and he fell, hammering into the rail which cracked under the impact. He heard a cheer behind him and hauled himself out of immediate sight.
‘Fuck it!’ he said.
‘Hirad,’ said Erienne, turning back.
‘No time,’ he grated, dragging himself to his feet. ‘Keep away from those windows. Denser, Erienne, get your ShadowWings sorted and go. Ilkar, what have you got?’ The pain screamed through Hirad’s leg as he applied weight to it, feeling the blood flooding into his boot. The bolt was lodged, which was a blessing, and hadn’t struck his bone, which was close to a miracle. He hefted his sword.
‘Unknown numbers running towards us this way,’ said Ilkar. ‘I’ll keep them busy.’
In front of Hirad, the first Black Wings were coming down the port rail towards them. He hefted his sword, changing to his left hand for a better angle and waited, knowing every bought moment was vital.
‘I can cast Orbs,’ said Denser.
‘No, Xetesk man, get Erienne off this bloody ship!’ snapped Hirad. ‘Go before I pitch you over myself. We’ll be right behind you.’
‘You’d better be,’ said Denser.
‘Fly!’ The first Black Wing paced around the corner, sword swinging round at shoulder height. Hirad blocked it aside then swept his blade back left to right, the man swaying backwards to dodge the blow, bringing his sword back in front of him and stabbing forwards. Hirad blocked easily and backhanded the man across the face with his right fist and lunged forwards, pain flaring from his calf and spearing up through his back. He took the man in the midriff, skewering through his leather armour. He felt the sword grate against the Black Wing’s spine and wrenched it clear, the body collapsing to the deck.
‘Ilkar, how are you doing!’ Hirad thrust forward, seeing a crossbow edge around the corner. His blade ground along the stock of the weapon and smashed though the sight, burying itself in the eye of the Black Wing who screamed and fell, finger flexing on the trigger, the bolt scoring Hirad’s leather as it passed.
‘Holding them back,’ said Ilkar, out of breath. ‘Just.’
‘Keep going, watch for crossbows.’
He glanced over his shoulder. Erienne and Denser were gone.
‘Time to leave, Ilkar.’
‘How?’
Hirad crouched, waiting, his wound throbbing badly. The next attacker was more cautious. The barbarian listened closely, hearing a boot slide along a timber. And again. Gripping a stay with his left hand and ignoring the billowing agony from his calf, he leant out and struck low, his sword thrashing into the man’s ankle, biting through boot and into bone. The Black Wing howled and fell back. More bolts whistled by, missing comfortably.
Hirad swung back. It had to be now. He limped down the stern rail. Ilkar was struggling.
‘Behind you,’ he said, approaching. ‘Duck on my word.’
Ilkar fielded a blow to the stomach and pushed the man away but he was strong and snatched his sword back, whipping it round and over his head.
‘Now!’
Ilkar ducked. Hirad’s sword powered round, blocking the downward strike and sending the guard off balance. Hirad stepped over Ilkar and thumped a fist into the man’s face. He staggered back a pace.
‘ShadowWings and go, Ilkar!’
‘They’ll come from behind us, Hirad.’
‘I’ll hold them. Go.’
‘No.’
Hirad slashed again, the Black Wing blocking but only just.
‘Trust me, and don’t lose sight of me. Now get lost.’
He stepped up and crashed his sword through the enemy’s neck. The man teetered and pivoted over the rail.
‘Fish food,’ growled Hirad. ‘Who’s next?’
Behind him, he heard Ilkar deploy the wings and leave the deck.
‘Hirad, they’re on you,’ he shouted.
Hirad put his back against the wall of the aft cabins. Black Wings were filtering down the rail from his right. He could see crossbowmen behind him.
‘Don’t you lose me, Ilkar!’ he yelled into the night, praying that the elf was watching him.
‘Drop your weapon!’ ordered a Black Wing.
Hirad smiled. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said.
He stepped forwards and dived over the rail, sword ahead of him, and splashed into the sea.
The freezing water enveloped him, the waves huge and dark surrounding him. He broke surface briefly, kicking his legs, feeling his injured calf protesting as the salt edged in. He scoured the sky but could see nothing. The Ocean Elm moved gently away from him and he was lifted by another wave. The wind roared in his ears, he could feel more hail lashing down and he felt heavy. Very heavy.
He knew he should let go his sword and try to shed his leather but something inside him refused. He submerged again, water piling over on him, the storm singling him out as its next victim. He kicked again, feeling the air on his face and grabbing in another lungful.
‘Ilkar!’ he shouted into the gale.
He scrabbled at his back, sinking again, fighting to get his sword into his scabbard, knowing it was stupid, knowing he could afford to lose it, but having to free both his hands. He was going down but he refused to die. And there it was, like the feel of silk on the body of a woman, his sword slipping down into the leather. He swam for the surface, breaking clear and shouting again for his friend.