Exiles in Arms: Night of the Necrotech (21 page)

Taryn hated to leave Rutger the way she did. She knew it was hurtful and cowardly, but it was the only thing she could think to do. Many more of his appeals to her martial pride and sense of camaraderie and he would have broken her resolve. She’d have agreed with him, gone off with him to help the watch. She only hoped she’d managed to delay him long enough that he wouldn’t be able to get to the launch to help them on his own.

Parvolo was a good man, as watchmen went. He wasn’t Taryn’s sort, but she could respect what he was trying to do. Somebody under his command, however, wasn’t playing a strictly fair game. Someone had let it be known that she and Rutger were going to be up at Volkenrath’s estate. Kalder had come there looking for her, not the gangster, and she didn’t see how it could have been any of Vulger’s men, not the way he kept everyone penned in behind his walls.

No, working with the watch was the last thing they should do right now. There was just no knowing if another tip would be handed off to the bounty hunter. Fighting the monsters of Cryx was difficult enough—as her brush with the pistol wraith had made hideously clear—without the necessity of looking over one shoulder to see if Kalder was aiming a gun at her back. Or, worse yet, at Rutger’s.

Taryn hurried along the crowded streets of Captain’s Isle. She wished she’d told Rutger that Kalder was still alive. But that would have meant telling him why Kalder was after them, or rather
her
. If she did that, nothing would keep Rutger from trying to help her. She didn’t want him sticking his neck out for the sins of
her
past. It wasn’t like sharing the danger fighting Khadoran soldiers or gatormen or even the undead horrors of Cryx. This was a threat that existed because of something she’d done. It was her burden, and the consequences should be hers alone.

Gradually, the crowded streets opened up into the waterfront. Taryn could see the distant cliffs of Chaser Island, the two suspension bridges stretching out to the island across the murky waters of the channel. The hoot of horns, the screech of steam whistles, the dolorous ringing of bells, all the clamor of the river traffic rolled across the waterfront. Taryn smiled at the noise. She could use something to distract her from her gloomy thoughts.

The gun mage turned away from the bridges. They were fine for a short walk one island over, but she was going further than that. She wanted to head back to Bellicose and from there strike out across the mainland. Hiring a ferry would be the quickest way.

As she descended the winding tiers of steps and platforms leading down to the docks, Taryn’s gaze drifted toward the rusty bulk of the Old Colossus. A relic of the final battle that drove the Orgoth from these islands, the giant machine had become a local landmark. She looked down toward the metal giant’s submerged legs, saw the sleek prow of a launch pulling out into the channel. Parvolo, she decided, wondering if Rutger had made it in time to join him after all. And whether Kalder was nearby, watching the boat.

Taryn consoled herself that if she wasn’t around, the bounty hunter wouldn’t do anything to hurt Rutger. Kalder would be too hopeful that Rutger would lead him back to her.

Now that Parvolo’s launch was moving, Taryn noticed other ships steaming rapidly out to block the neck of the channel. Ordic naval ships, their sides bristling with guns. Taryn remembered what Parvolo had said. He wanted to take the
Majestic
intact, try to take prisoners. The navy, it seemed, had their own orders. If Parvolo failed, they’d lose no time blasting the
Majestic
out of the water.

She felt a pang of guilt when she spotted the suspect ship. It was an ugly black-hulled merchantman. Chains dripped down the sides of its hull in long coils. She could see the crew bustling about on the deck, gesturing excitedly as Parvolo’s launch drew near. The sailors reacted angrily when the launch hailed the
Majestic
, several of them producing pistols and crossbows, others taking up javelins and casting them down at the launch.

The watch lost little time returning the hostility. A swivel gun roared from the launch’s wheelhouse, cutting down a half dozen of the sailors at a go. The marksmanship of Parvolo’s men accounted for several more. It was during that first bloodletting that one of the sailors threw open the hatch covering the ship’s main hold. A ghastly monstrosity leaped up onto the deck. Taryn felt her breath catch in her throat as she recognized the loathsome shape of a bonejack, similar to the thing she’d fired on in the Scrapyard but with the addition of a lethal-looking cannon protruding from between its jaws.

The creature scrabbled toward the railing, a clutch of undead risen following it up from the hold. It reached the railing and reared itself up as high as its clawed legs could stretch, then sprayed a sizzling green foam down into the launch. Even from such a distance, Taryn could hear the agonized screams of the men caught by the burning slush.

The watchmen, to their credit, held their ground and lobbed grenades up onto the merchantman’s deck. Several explosions caught the bonejack, ripping one of its legs clean from the chassis. The tanks that contained its caustic ammunition must have also been punctured, for a jet of green slush spurted across risen and enemy sailors alike, melting living flesh and undead corruption with equal rapacity.

The bonejack toppled to the deck of the merchantman, thrashing with its remaining claw. Taryn noticed the evil-looking green light that surrounded it, the same light that surrounded the helljack in Vulger’s mansion. Gradually, the glow faded away as whoever had exerted an enchantment over the machine realized it was too damaged to draw any benefit from the bolstering spell. Taryn searched the merchantman for the necrotech. Rutger had said the abomination was some sort of minor warcaster, if the power to merge one’s mind with the cortex of a ’jack could ever be described as “minor.”

She saw no trace of the necrotech. What she did notice was the absence of the chains that had hung from the boat’s hull. Almost as soon as she noticed they were missing, the chains reappeared, rocketing up from beneath the surface of the channel, a big grappling claw attached at the end of each. The claws slammed down on the deck of the launch, sliding around as the chains dragged them back toward the water. Most of the grapples eventually caught hold of a hatch, a bit of railing, even the corner of the wheelhouse. As they caught and held, the chains fitted to them shuddered, groaning as they pulled a tremendous weight from below the channel.

Taryn couldn’t believe her eyes. Fastened to the end of each chain was another bonejack, hideous with sleek black carapaces of metal and oversized claws arching upward from each shoulder. A squat vulturine head jutted from the front of each lobster-like chassis, sharp beaks of bone snapping malignantly at the crew. The bonejacks’ crab-like claws flashed as they clattered onto the deck, ripping through watchmen like a scythe through wheat.

Aquatic bonejacks! The perversity made Taryn’s blood curdle. To think that it might be possible for the fiends of Cryx to simply walk from their necrofactoriums and march under the sea to strike the lands of men. The marauding fleets of the Nightmare Empire were vile enough, but at least there was some hope of warning. What alarm could be given when the first anyone was aware of their peril was when the undead horrors came marching out of the surf.

Arcane energies swirled about the bonejacks, which glowed with an eerie light. Their hideous frames surged forward with an enhanced swiftness. She looked again at the merchantman, but there was still no sign of the necrotech.

Instinct or perhaps simply premonition made Taryn look skyward. The lines of several elevated cable cars stretched across the river, running between the towering buildings of Captain’s Isle to their rivals on Chaser. One of the cable cars stood frozen high above the channel, almost directly above the battle. Taryn could see a figure standing there, its red robes whipping in the wind, pale hair streaming about it like a mane. A spiral horn rose from the figure’s forehead, where once there had been two. It took little imagination to transform the distant figure into the Satyxis witch Taryn had shot at Volkenrath’s estate.

The witch was alone on the roof of the cable car, but another Cryxian machine hovered in the air beside her, floating like some monstrous paper lantern. The strange, octopus-like machine was not like a ’jack—concentric rings of arcane runes glowed in the air around it. Taryn was amazed at how many different circles of runes there were, and she felt more than a touch of horror when she considered that each separate strand must correspond to one of the bonejacks down below.

Her horror collapsed into a sensation of utmost dread when Taryn appreciated what that meant. The monster, whatever it was, was empowering the bonejacks, but not from the ship! She could see grisly lights streaking from the ring of soul cages dangling from the creature’s hull, each light screaming downward to add its energies to one of the monstrous machines. She remembered what Rutger had told her about defeating the helljack by luring it outside the control range of the necrotech. If this new monster was also some kind of warcaster, there was only one reason it would shun closer proximity to the battle.

The
Majestic
was a trap to snare Parvolo and the watch!

It was hopeless to warn Parvolo now. Whatever trap the Cryxian forces had laid, the watch was caught. The only thing she could do to help them now was disrupt the malignant influence controlling the aquatic bonejacks. She had to stop that infernal machine floating beside the Satyxis witch.

The idea made her shudder. She wasn’t callous enough to want to see Parvolo and his men die, but she wasn’t going to risk body and soul for them either. There was no knowing what sort of abilities that octopod horror might be capable of. Even more disturbing for Taryn was the possibility that the pistol wraith might also be lurking nearby, hidden in reserve. That prospect alone killed any foolhardy notion of rushing off to confront the monsters.

She had just started to retreat from the waterfront when the thunderous sound of a heavy warjack on the run caught her attention. Spinning around, Taryn felt a rush of relief when she saw Rex’s familiar bulk charging toward one of the bridges, Rutger just behind, shouting directions to it as they hurried along. It was as well for Rutger that nearly all foot traffic had quit the street and scrambled to the waterfront to watch the river battle, given the way Rex smashed through the carts and sledges left behind.

She hadn’t seen Rex on Parvolo’s launch, but now she could be sure he was free of whatever trap the Cryxians had set. She ran toward him.

“Rutger!” She had to shout his name three times before he heard her over the rumble of Rex’s engines. He spun about, and the relieved smile that filled his face struck at Taryn more forcefully than any reprimand could have. In that moment, she decided to explain to him why she’d left, but it was an explanation that would have to wait.

“They’re attacking Parvolo’s boat,” Taryn said, before he could speak. She waved her arm at the channel where the embattled launch and the sinister merchantman could be seen clearly. “Rutger, it’s a trap. The Cryxians were waiting for the watch.” She pointed up at the cable car where the blood hag and her grisly companion gazed down upon the battle. “Maybe we could knock out the cable car somehow.”

Rutger shook his head. “That might upset the witch, but she isn’t the one controlling those bonejacks. It has to be that thing with her. Whatever it is, it’s not standing on that cable car. It’s just floating there in the air beside it.”

“What do we do then?” Taryn asked. “They’re too high up to shoot at.”

Rutger nodded his chin at one of the other cable cars as it returned to its station and disgorged its cargo of frightened passengers. “We commandeer one of those things and go up to where you can get a shot at them.”

CHAPTER VIII

A
zaam cackled with delight as she watched the slaughter unfolding on the deck of the launch. The Satyxis longed to be down there where the smell of blood could fill her nose, where she would be at liberty to rake her knives across the throats of dying men and suck the liquid from their ruptured hearts. The beauteous carnage, the rapturous frenzy of the kill! These were the pleasures she longed to indulge, the glories of her vanished youth and vivacity. The youth that Moritat had promised he would soon restore.

Sometimes the blood hag repented her alliance. The necrotech was dangerously deranged, so obsessed with his experiments and theories that he couldn’t be bothered with anything that didn’t directly affect his studies. He was even so lost in his work that he couldn’t appreciate the deadly implications of interfering with Lich Lord Malathrax and disrupting his operations in Five Fingers.