Black & Mist by Thomas J. Radford

Author:Thomas J. Radford [Radford, Thomas J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Tyche Books Ltd.
Published: 2018-05-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

GRAVEL WAS COUGHING up blood. His nose was broken, gushing red, and he was drowning in the stuff.

Mors Coldstream gave him a disgusted look, placing his foot on the landsman’s shoulder and kicking him over onto his front. Blood splattered on the deck but at least Gravel could breathe again.

Mors walked back up the gangway, turning to face the crew from atop the tender. Crates and barrels had been placed around the ship to give the scene some window dressing. The objective was simple: board the ship, claim the prize. The marines just had to go through Mors to do it.

Gravel hadn’t been the first to go down, just the bloodiest.

“Again!” Mors called out.

Three marines rushed up the planking, seeking to close. They knew better than to engage the ship’s premiere duellist at range.

They didn’t fare much better up close.

“You all right, sailor?” Kaspar knelt by his friend, holding a swab of bandages out.

“Fine, sir,” Gravel pressed the cloth to his face. It turned damp and sodden and crimson. “Just dandy. Hoping to hold out long enough to see those two go at it.”

Kaspar looked over at his shoulder where the rest of the marines were gathered around Aristeia. The woman wore leathers and vest, sleeveless, staff slung over one shoulder. A group of shellbacks surrounded her, waiting their turn.

“Be grateful it’s not both of them,” Kaspar told him. “Get up, you’ve laid down long enough.”

The landsman groaned, whether from pain or the idea of facing down both Mors and Aristeia, Kaspar didn’t know. Together they made it over to the makeshift triage set-up for Mors’ earlier victims.

Boarding drills. Everyone got a turn.

“What are we doing this for, Ensign?” Gravel eased himself down onto one of the cots.

“Captain’s orders, sailor,” Kaspar said.

Gravel coughed. More blood. Not much of an answer.

“Ensign!” the first mate called out. “Line up with the next wave.”

Kaspar flinched, though not from Aristeia’s words. He looked down at Gravel. The landsman was clutching his own hand arm tight but it was the half-chewed nails that made him flinch. There was a charge coming off the lad.

“Push it down.” Kaspar clapped his friend on the shoulder. He forced himself to ignore the shocks running through his bones from the joint. He had to, else Brandon would be sent back to the Allied worlds. They were part of the Alliance. And that was what was required from all thaumatics.

“Fine, fine. Sir.” Gravel broke the contact, drawing a deep breath. “Go do your duty, Niko. Before Mistress Quinn misses yourself.”

The first mate’s eyes were on Kaspar as he took up his position at the back of the line. Wand in hand, a marine on his left and able seaman on his right. Everybody drilled. Captain had yet to say why.

Aristeia’s smile was mocking as he passed her, the shellback scars on her shoulder a reminder of what he wasn’t.

At least it was over quickly.

“Damned stupid, Sir,” Gravel said to him later, lying slumped in an out-of-the-way corridor. Backs against the wall and legs stretched out.

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