Gonji: Fortress of Lost Worlds Part 32

"I told you I have no control over that. Its the will of G.o.d, or more likely His whim."

"Maybe its his will, but its still your mood that inspires it-your anger, your pride-something."

"Leave me be!"

Another cannonade. More heavy b.a.l.l.s whistled by. The sea erupted before and behind them with the plunging shot. Then there was an explosion over their heads. The mizzen-mast boom split and shattered into kindling over the stern cabin, sail and rigging crashing down over the shouting rowers.

"Sancta mierda! Holy s.h.i.t!" Buey was roaring. "Turn this vessel about and lets give them a taste of our own guns. Lets die like soldiers, not rabbits!"

"Simon-" Gonji leapt up from where he had been thrown back by the impact. "What is it, Simon?" he yelled, grabbing the lycanthrope by one sinewy arm that felt like threaded cable. "Are you afraid youll harm your precious Golden Fleece Knights? Whats going to happen to all these people? If you can raise a storm, youll imperil us just as surely as them, but at least well have an even chance to survive. They cant attack us in a storm. For G.o.ds sake-do what Ive seen you do-call on the storm kami-raise the kamikaze, the Divine Wind!"

Simon pushed him down and ran back to help the people clear the heavy tangle of debris at the stern. Another volley raked the air all about them-chain shot, intended to shred their sails. A cannonball slammed into the portside hull above the water line, but at an acute angle, glancing off the boards and rocking the galley violently. Most of the ships complement were knocked off their feet, amid screams and prayers for deliverance.

Gonji descended on Simon in fury. "All right, all right, forget that youre a man, then. Be a scurrying beast. Run to your dinghy and hide under your canopy so that no mere mortal eyes can see your terror and cowardice!"

"Ill kill you for that!" Simon stalked him, fists balled for mayhem. The lupine silver eyes that bore into Gonjis soul flashed with fervent emotion.

Gonji pulled the Sagami from its scabbard. "Come on, then, friend. Rip me to shreds. Show them what a monster you truly are."

"Im not a monster!"

Simon wrenched a saber from the belted scabbard of a mercenary and lashed out at Gonji, their blades sparking and shrieking in metallic wrath in the lashing sea spray. The samurai fended and parried on the shifting deck, fighting only defensively as he backed against the entrapping focsle. The shroud of the topsail was split by a cannonball that sailed on into the sea as they fought, tattered canvas fanning about the hole. Their shipmates roared from the oars, bellowing at the two to stop this madness.

An angry wind began to lash the sea, rocking the galley with its gale force. Icy rain swept across the deck, then whipped into a roiling column as bodies were strewn across the boards, some injured and bleeding, scrabbling for the relative safety of the hatches.

Simon raised his saber high overhead, his mouth a great silently crying rictus as he stood above the samurai. Gonji knelt on one knee in a corner, katana angled defensively overhead. The lycanthrope slowly lowered his sword and wiped the slashing rain from his obscured vision. He looked around him, out to sea, chest heaving as he grimaced.

More than one voice chimed out: "Look-!"

Gonji rose at his side. The others began to quit the oars and join them at the rail, clinging to the rigging and gunwales for purchase on the tossing deck. They stared incredulously at the ma.s.sive enemy gallea.s.s. She was caught in a tempestuous sea, her sails faces full to bursting with the sudden colossal gale, as if battered from mighty crosswinds.

Tempest-tossed and storm-battered though they were, the refugees soon realized that the worst of the storms fury had mystically spared them. The Venetian galley now began to make slow but inexorable headway, separating from the gallea.s.s, which seemed cupped in a maelstrom.

"Yoi," Gonji breathed, eyes shining as if at a revelation. "Now-now-weve been granted a reprieve. Get to the oars. Everyone. Row till your backs break!"

They took up their places, pulling at the oars for fair. They rowed throughout the day, taking food and water as they bent to their endlessly agonizing task. Yet not a complaint was heard, but only the occasional yelp of death-confounding glee to see the gallea.s.s slowly diminish in the eerie storm they left behind, far to the north.

A heavy gloom descended before the setting of the sun. When Simon took up his place in the skimming dinghy that trailed the galley by its long lanyard, a deep fog overtook them from astern. The rowers continued well into the night, small crews breaking off in shifts-not a man of them able to stand straight without groaning against their aches-to s.n.a.t.c.h at a brief respite and lend a hand with the repair of the sails and mizzenmast boom.

They chattered nervously to smother the sound of Simons dreadful transformation, all of them understanding by this time the agony attendant on the werewolfs erupting out of the body of the man.

Del Gaudio was the first to spot the small boat nestled in the fog.

"The one from last night?" Gonji inquired. Several grunts came in affirmation. "Who are they? Howd she make it through the storm?"

"Their sails are furled, yet they keep pace."

"Pretty close now," Orozco observed. "She bears no guns. Whats her intent? Should we try to hail her?"

"No," Gonji spat, swallowing back the unbidden tremor in his voice. He scratched at the back of his head nervously. A vague alarm had begun to sound inside him.

"Its a felucca," Corsini identified, just as the first thunk of a crossbow quarrel broke the whispering silence. It had plunked through the hull above the waterline.

"What the h.e.l.l? They must be mad."

Another shot lanced into the water off the starboard bow. Two clacked into the deck boards.

"Yiiiii!"

A mercenary clutched at the bolt that sprouted from his clavicle, eyes straining at their sockets. He emitted a gurgled outcry as he wrenched at the invading missile, then twisted down onto the deck, lashing out in his death pangs. His mates looked on, paralyzed with shock, to see the spreading pool of blood emerge beneath his twitching form.

Two more near misses before they hit the deck, eyeing one another wildly.

"Sons...o...b..i.t.c.hes," Buey swore. "We turn and send them to the bottom."

"No," Gonji countered, "we can outrun them. They cant keep pace. We havent time to waste. By the time we come about and deal with them, that gallea.s.s could be back on our behinds. Do you want that?"

They stared at him a moment, something in his tone that theyd not heard before raising wary looks. Then they were back to the oars, pulling and craning their necks to starboard at the same time.

Bolts continued to plunk into the ship from time to time, almost lazily. Whoever they were, their arrogance was insufferable. Their lack of concerted fire testified to their contempt for the firepower and valor of the galleys crew. But there was something else troubling the renegades: At this distance, their accuracy was incredible. Pushing the arbalests firing range to the limit, they were nonetheless striking their target with fearsome regularity.

Makeshift shielding was raised along the starboard side of the ship. The intimidating impacts of bolts continued sporadically through the night. When dawn broke, the fog lifted, and the felucca receded from view.

Forty-seven bolts dotted the protecting shields and hatch covers. The dead mercenary was consigned to the sea.

A change came over Gonji the next day.

He sat at the tiller hour after hour, staring beyond the ships wake at the distant northern horizon. He was tormented by baleful memories, for he knew now who his pursuers must be, and he feared them. Feared them more than he had the gallea.s.s; more than any nemesis in a long time.

Grim recollection of the reanimated dead man who had testified against Gonji at the Burning Court fortified his certainty: The Dark Company had been set on his trail again. And he knew that his hated enemy, Balaerik, must be the power behind this vile necromancy, as well.

Gonjis nightmares were still crowded with the images of death and loneliness their unearthly pursuit had visited on him over a year ago. He had lost many close friends to their uncanny skills, and it had been his fault, for he had found no way to deal with this threat that seemed to regard him so lightly, as it tormented him.

At midday Valentina brought him a light repast of smoked fish and ale. He turned down the ale and drank water instead. Already their drinking water had gone stale.

"Its a relief to see, you know," she said to him.

He cast the woman a wondering glance. "Whats that?"

"That you can be afraid of something, like everyone else."

"Does it show that obviously?" he sighed, squaring his shoulders and turning back to the sea.

"Who are they, that they bother you so much?"

His brow furrowed. "An old enemy. Killers of those I hold dear." He was surprised to hear his own frankness.

But she had chosen to interpret his words figuratively. She moved close beside him, resting her chin on his uninjured shoulder. "I know your pain, Gonji-chan. Once I had a baby boy, can you believe that? The wh.o.r.e became a mother... He died," she appended simply, though the mournful eloquence of her admission caused Gonji to be moved by sympathy.

Valentina broke the silent sharing after a time. "Its G.o.ds will, I suppose. We just have to deal with it."

"We call it karma."

"I know. Ive heard." She reached around and kissed him, her lips perking impishly afterward, as she peered back along the deck. "Dont worry. No one saw." She wrinkled her nose at him and hurried back to the deck to rejoin a group mending a sail.

Moments later, Sergeant Orozco enjoined the crew to step lively about their business, affecting a mock-military tone. Then he climbed up to speak with Gonji at the tiller.

"h.e.l.luva lady, isnt she?"

"Mmm?"

"Your Tina-chan."

"Hai," Gonji replied, a tad defensive toward the sergeants implication.

"You could do better by her," Orozco observed, spitting into the sea and wiping his mouth on a sleeve. "This business about Fracastoros disease and all that-s.h.i.t! Who doesnt have it these days? Were all gonna die anyway..."

"What are you trying to say, Orozco-san?"

"Orozco-san," he mimicked scornfully. "Dont go getting stiff and formal on me, senor sa-moo-rai. Whats the difference whether you die by disease or these devil archers skewer you in your sleep? Ill tell you what the difference is, the first way you get to enjoy the pleasures of a-"

"Carlos, have I ever presumed to get so personal with you?"

Orozco snorted. "I dont know about this j.a.ppo code business. Christ, have you only slept with virgins in all your years in Europe? Thats a far greater sin, you know, than-than-mierda, why am I wasting my time trying to explain?"

"Si, why are you?"

"Ahh-like talking to a G.o.dd.a.m.ned quintain on the practice field." He waved an arm and turned away.

"Why dont you court her yourself, old man, if your concern is for Valentinas loneliness?"

Orozco sneered. "I just might do that." He pumped a fist for emphasis and departed.

Gonjis insides churned with his conflicting emotions. He was not cheered to find Cardenas joining him moments later.

"Sorry to disturb your private s.p.a.ce," the solicitor said.

"Well, youve done it, so say whats on your mind," Gonji replied.

"Once again youve involved me with sorcery. That hurricane wind-"

"And this time it saved your life, senor, did you give no thought to that?" Gonji rubbed his tense face petulantly.

"Si, you didnt let me finish," Cardenas replied. "The irony of that did not escape me."

Gonji met his eyes, seeing warmth in them for the first time. Then, shadow-smooth and nearly without a sound, the tall form of Simon Sardonis glided up next to them.

"Have them clear the stern hold for tonight, and then lock me in there," he told Gonji enigmatically. "When the-the commotion has ceased, release me, and Ill help with the rowing."

The lycanthropes meaning ultimately would become the talk of the boat.

An eerie scene transpired just past midnight, as the newly erupted, gigantic form of the werewolf took up a post at the oars, his broad, sinewy back bending effortlessly to the task.

The rest of the refugees stared in wonder, strangely encouraged to see this terrible golden apparition-whose European legend haunted the dark recesses of their thoughts-now openly enlisted in their cause.

Wild courage swept through them an hour later, then, when they saw the pursuing, ghostly felucca appear again.

Gonji pondered a long moment, then issued the breathless order to swing the ship about and engage their bold attackers head on. Peering out from between the shields, the samurai and his trusted leaders watched apprehensively as the galleys five heavy bow guns were brought to bear on the tiny craft.

The first volley carried too far. The second booming discharge fell short, their adjustments compensating too much. The third sequential explosions from the cannon began to pepper the sea all about the felucca, which still sailed on through the dark waters, suicidally unconcerned.

Men could be seen standing in the felucca now, gathering unhurriedly at the rails to stare at them across the briny waters. The mercenaries whispered and nudged one another-what warriors could be so heedless of death? And now there was something else: other forms-sleek, shadow-like, gliding over the ship like dragons breath.

Gray-black mists with eyes like fiery red pits. Windows onto h.e.l.l.

A cannonball crashed into the felucca with a furious explosion of sea foam and smoke, splintering wood and cries of victory from among the refugees. They began clapping one another on their backs. Only Gonji withheld any sign of triumph.

His breath stayed, he beheld the listing of the broken vessel with desperate expectancy. Its hull bursting below its shallow draw, the felucca took water and sank in scant minutes. All the while, her eerie crew stood ama.s.s on her single deck, issuing no outcry, making no effort at saving themselves.

The felucca was swallowed by the sea. Twisting shadows, like oil spills, were the only sign of her pa.s.sage.

The following night the galley was taken aback when a sudden cross-current gust of wind flattened her sails. The wind dissipated completely almost at once, and Gonjis party found themselves becalmed, motionless, somewhere to the south of Sicily.

The crew had become restive, small fights breaking out among them. There was a renewal of various superst.i.tious practices, much mumbling of private prayer. Their strange journey had begun to gnaw at each persons secret fears, to evoke nightmares.

So there was no great surprise in the discovery that the sunken felucca had diabolically resurrected itself to give chase again.

The rowers strained at the oars to press them ahead, their only means of propulsion now. Simon, in his b.e.s.t.i.a.l guise once again, took up a place among the benches.

"What in the name of all demonic agents are they?" Gonji demanded of an unresponsive cosmos. "What fires their evil magic?"

"Maybe they work like the faery-ring maidens," Buey proposed.

Orozco grunted. "You wont get any more of my silver to try on them."

Gonjis hand worked at the hilt of the belted Sagami. The rhythmic sluicing of water by the oars and the groaning of the spars were the only sounds for a long s.p.a.ce. "I doubt it," he answered at last. "This is something much worse. Some-G.o.dless black sorcery weve never encountered."

"Is her crew the same?"

"Hard to tell."