Deathmatch (Blood Bowl Book 3) by Matt Forbeck

Author:Matt Forbeck [Forbeck, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2015-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

Now that the masthead lived no more, the arm had become a plank of well carved wood. With the ship’s nose already starting to sink, Dunk could slide down the plank, right to the deck of the Seas of Hate – and he did.

Once Dunk reached the ship, he pulled himself up over the gunwale and onto the main deck. There, in the open hold below, he saw a few dozen bruised and battered men straining desperately against their shackles. None had managed to free themselves yet.

‘The keys!’ Dunk shouted down at the prisoners. ‘Where are the keys?’

A few of the slaves stood up and pointed at the rhythm-keeper’s drum at the edge of the deck overlooking the hold. Dunk dashed over to it and found a single rusty key hanging from a vicious hook. He snatched it up and dived into the hold below.

Insane with panic, the water already sloshing around their ankles, the men grabbed at Dunk and tried to take the key from him. After he smashed the first few attempts down with his free fist, they held up their iron-cuffed wrists instead and pleaded with him to let them go.

Dunk worked that key into every lock he could find. In, twist, out. In, twist, out. In, twist, out.

A few of the freed muttered their thanks to the thrower, but most scrambled free and dived over the gunwale without a word. Dunk could hardly blame them. The water was rising fast.

Just as Dunk reached the final row of oarsmen, something in the front of the ship gave way, and the sea came rushing into the hold. In, twist, out. In, twist, out. In, twist, out.

Dunk thought he just might make it, but the last prisoner refused to show Dunk his shackles. Instead, he snarled at the thrower and tried to bite him. Dunk considered knocking the man out and then freeing him, but the hold chose that moment to slip beneath the waves.

The water hit Dunk in the back and shoved him up and free. He reached for the shackled madman, but his grip slipped away. As he bobbed on the surface for an instant, he looked down and saw the man struggling with his irons, the air bubbling from his lungs.

Dunk grabbed a good breath and then dived down towards the man. He wasn’t going to let this poor soul drown if he could help it. The more people he could rescue from daemons of any kind, the better, and if he had to risk his own life to do it, then so be it.

When Dunk reached the man, his impending death by drowning seemed to have washed his madness away. He presented his shackles and waited for Dunk to work the key into the lock.

Once the man was free, he kicked away towards the surface. Dunk made to follow him, but found that the sleeve of his shirt had caught on the man’s irons. Before he could separate himself, one of the last escapee’s desperate kicks caught Dunk in the side of the head.

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