Destiny: Book of Light Page 6

  Brendans screams echoed back up the pass, but nobody had the time to console him. The gate was too near. Anticipation was too high. It was seconds from the lifeboat going under the gate. Bill the ships best shot, lay flat on the ships bow, rifle targeting the lifeboat. His hands shook with both fear and the pressure of the task before him, but he did his best to steady the aim. It was time, and just before he was going to pull the trigger the captain roared at him.

  "Leave it go under!"

  Instantly Bill knew what he meant. The gate with its array of wooden gargoyle, random ship parts and decorations of skulls and bones, was high enough from the height of the river for the life boat to go under. If it went under and then they set it off, it would do much more damage. But as the boat started under the wooden mass of death, Bill began to lose sight. Thinking quickly he attached himself to a line and then scaled the bow of the ship. The lifeboat was about 10 feet under when he began to fire, but because of the angle, the shot was near impossible. He missed, and missed, and missed again. The boat was going further and further under, 15ft, 20ft.

  "Shoot it, shoot it!" Roared the captain as he stood ready to switch the boat to full ahead. "Sorry Bill." He whispered to himself.

  Too much time had gone by and he had no choice, he switched the ship from full reverse to full ahead and the ship nearly instantly rammed the blockade. The cracking of wood smothered the sound of roaring, as the ship imbedded itself in the blockade and hundreds of Tribal warriors suddenly appeared all around. The firing begun. Completely outnumbered the crew scrambled to take cover in what ever way possible on the ship. With warriors lining the top of the blockade now as well, this meant any attempts were in vain. The Rionions on the other hand, although they kept firing and were being shot, they did not try to find cover. None fell. The shooting increased from the warriors. Sean and the captain had a bit of a vantage point from the bridge and both were taking down many warriors, but things were looking bad for the crew. Most were shot at least once and many were killed or completely out of action with the severity of their wounds. The first creature fell. The warriors began to scale down the blockade and jump onto the ship. Seeing this and the death occurring below, Sean lost it. He threw aside the rifle, pulled out both handguns, and jumped the 20ft drop from the bridge, firing with precision accuracy on the way down. Bodies filled the ground where he landed and indeed most of the deck of the ship. Both crew and warriors, some still moving under footsteps. The second creature fell, and as it did another screamed a scream that echoed back and forth through the valley. All shooting stopped as even the warriors watched this one creature, seemingly increase in size and glow a burning red. The scream increased in pitch and as it did the dynamite under the blockade blew. Wooden splinters and shrapnel exploded through the air as the ship broke free of the blockade. The engines automatically pushed it through any remaining obstacles. The Rionions silently returned below, carrying their dead with them, and after they did there was no movement onboard. The night was still, as was the river, as was the crew.

  It wasn't until the next morning that the heat from the sun woke Sean. He found himself buried under the bodies of two of the tribal warriors. He pushed them off to take in the mass grave he was a part of. Movement was rare but he began to dig around. Four of the 39 crew survived along with the captain and Sean himself. The captain ordered Tim, one of the crew to stop the ships engines and take the wheel. Everyone had some injury. One of the crew was in a critical condition with three gun shot wounds, two in the left leg and one in the stomach. With the ship's medic dead he wasn't going to make it. Sean and the captain both agreed and Sean shot him in the head, releasing him of his pain. This left five living. Only four of the Rionions had died.

  "Suppose somebody should say something?" asked the captain as they got ready to start dumping the bodies overboard.

  James, the engineer began to sing. A ballad written about the death of the sun created the required, respectful atmosphere. Everyone else remained silent as they went about what had to be done. The bodies splashed overboard one by one. Tribal warriors, and crew. It would have been a difficult job either way but with injuries it took some time. The captain had a wooden splinter through his right leg, and although it wasn't too thick, he could not remove it and so he could not walk. Sean was the least injured with only a couple of scrapes, bruises, and a gunshot flesh wound to his left arm. After all the bodies had been dumped overboard James stopped singing and spoke.

  "Sir, you gotta take a look at this."

  Sean peered over the edge. The bodies and body parts had floated to the surface as soon as they went over, and with the ship now drifting down the river they travelled alongside at the same speed. It was a disturbing sight to anyone, no matter how tough they might be, or think they are.

  "What do we do now Sir?"

  "I don't know James, I don't know. We can't turn on the engines now anyway, they'd get grinded up, so I guess we'll have to continue on drifting with them. They'll disperse when we hit the sea. In the meantime we must get scrubbing these decks, and ourselves and tend to our wounds. We can't risk infection, and captain, we're going to have to pull that out."

  "I know Sean, James will you get the whiskey from the store, I can't do it sober."

  A wave of pain, passed through all of them with the sound of the stick ripped from his leg. The captains scream faded and he passed out. The deck was clean, the stick was out and wounds were tended to. They left the captain in his bunk to sleep it off and they retreated to the lounge in the next room to relax with the bottle of whiskey, all except Tim who cursed under his breath in the bridge as he navigated the pass. The blood seemed to wash away from memory as the whiskey flowed. Another bottle was brought up as a game of poker ensued. Soon the wounds seemed to be relieved. Another bottle. The captain woke, and already drunk, joined the social gathering. Stakes were high as Sean thought about how the type of card player reflected the personality of a person. He was great at reading people, very tactical and new when to pick his battles. The captain was a muscle player, trying to be aggressive and intimidate people. It worked on all except Sean. The stakes were high, tensions were high and the room dense with smoke as James, the last of the crew, went all in against the captain. With the flop turned, he was out with a pair of eights facing a pair of queens. The game had more or less gone as if it was everyones last day to live, mainly because of recent events thought Sean. He was now head to head with the captain. Tension was high and both had about the same amount of chips. It moved on the way it had begun, the captain trying to intimidate with big bets and Sean picking his battles and sneaking the smaller hands. For four hours they played and at that point they still had about the same amount of chips. The crew were asleep, when they both decided to go all in and winner takes all on the last hand. It was close.

  The next day a beautiful blue morning was sitting up waiting for them to awake. As Sean stirred the captain went up to the bridge to relieve Tim.

  "About bloody time, I was nearly dreaming with my eyes open. I think I can see the end of the pass on the horizon, you see?"

  "Ya Tim, I see. Thanks for taking the shift, I needed a bit of time for myself." "No hassle cap, wake me if you need me."

  The ship was usually run like clockwork, with regular shifts alternating between on watch, on duty or off. Now with the recent loss to the crew the shifts were going to be very widespread and the general chores cut back. They would all have to pitch in just to keep the ship running, and at that, no matter how much work they put in, they were going to be seriously affected by the losses. There was no option but having to pick up more crew members at Woshell but they didn't have enough money to pay for a crew. Without them they would never make it to Brima but more immediate problems lay on the horizon. They were going to be passing through the Denshir Islands. The fiercest mercenaries, criminals and just general thieves called these islands home. This was going to be like hopping on one leg, as fast as you can through a minefield, while trying t
o balance a bath of acid on your head.

  The captain huddled in a corner, nursing his usual strong, black cup of coffee while wallowing in a cloud of smoke from his cigar. His face looked wrinkled in concentration, as some of the others tried to busy themselves, to take their minds off the anticipation. The air was close in the living quarters and the tension could be cut with a knife. James attempted to build castles out of cards which seemed like an impossible task with the currents rolling the ship about, but he told the others that was the challenge in it. Sean sat in a corner smoking one of the captains cigars and wondering why all captains he knew smoked cigars. The others had a game of closest to the wall going. This was where a line was drawn three meters from the wall and each person had a go of flicking a coin and try get it closest to the wall. Closest took the pot.

  "Looking at the charts, I reckon our best bet would be to take the long way around. Head out west, then south and then back around east. That way we avoid most of the main islands and hopefully most of the trouble. What du think Sean?" "I think whatever you think is best, you are the captain, cap." "That's right, I forgot." They glanced at each other and had a little chuckle.

  The horizon became dotted with islands as the ship slowed coming out from Dills Pass. Silence was in the air, with nothing but the soft splashes of the sea against the hull to be heard. The sun was high in the sky, casting its usual blue tinge on the world and blurring the line between the blue sea and the blue sky. Only the islands showed that there was any partition, the majority of which were to the East, indicating the path to the West. The bodies spread out with the seas currents as if they were all heading their own way. With all the worrying passing in vain, the Denshir islands passed without incident. The stories that scaled the world were of the dread of the islands and not the pass. After what they had been through in the pass, they were expecting all out war here. But the seas were calm and not a soul was to be seen or heard. There was always the smell of death in the air though. The tough, pungent fear being carried on the low breeze and straight through the hearts of those onboard as if the very souls of the dead were trying to claw their way back to life. But their executioners were not to be found.

  Sean was on lookout duty up the crowsnest of the ship, which was purpose built in the center ship because of lack of a radar. In fact nobody had seen a working radar since shortly after the fall of Riona. He was half an hour away from the shift rotation when it started to rain. A few clouds had begun to build over the previous couple of hours and it started out as a slight drizzle from the north, increasing to a torrential downpour. With it, the seas welled up, tossing the ship on the backs of massive waves. The sky went dark in the face of the oncoming storm, and in the distance lightning began to flash and thunder rolled, mimicking the movement of the waves. The ship was not far from land now, but in this weather docking could be risky.

  The seas surrounding Woshell were famous for their dangerous rock clusters. These were relatively easy to navigate with calm seas but were like playing Russian roulette with five shots in rough weather, not to mention the lack of a full crew. Lack of a care in the city meant that the old lighthouses were never reliable, so the captain thought it best to ride out the storm on water rather than risk docking.

  Massive waves crashed over the sides, and everyone stayed off deck. This type of weather was pretty much a constant on this side of the world so there was no telling how long the storm would last. The captain kept close enough to land to be able to make a move should any lull show itself. The storm raged on. Two nights in, and lights from another ship were seen to the East. It appeared with brief sightings between the arches of the waves, that the ship was heading to them. It was now a matter of choosing between two evils. Navigate the rock enigma or hope the ship was friendly. The ship seemed the safest option with the deadly cargo as a safety net. As it approached nobody could be seen aboard.

  The ship itself was a tanker but much more heavily armed then the Angel. Though they were in range, the weapons did not fire and there appeared to be no movement onboard. A light could be seen on the ships bridge, but nobody was sure if what they saw was the outline of a person, or just a shadow. Just outside of what would be boarding attack range the ship stopped coming towards them and all lights shut down. It stayed there for the best part of an hour and all concentration onboard the Angel was watching it. At the same time another ship with no lights whatsoever approached the Angel from the West. This ship had more the remanence of the old navy destroyers. By the time anyone had noticed this ship was well within attack range. Both ships were about 50 meters from the Angel, but the Angel stood fast.

  No one was sure why, but both ships just left. The captain said he figured it may have been their reluctance to try and escape that put doubt in the minds of the would be attackers. But nobody could be certain. Once again they were alone in the raging seas. The shock of the second ship made the captain decide that it would be safer to risk the rocks before any other attempt at attack was risked.

  "Right lads, next time we might not be so lucky. We're gona try guide her to land. What I want is everybody on look out for rocks. The more eyes the better. I want you Sean up in the nest with the search light, and the rest of ye up at the bow. There are more lights down in cargo, so bring them up. We're goin to need every bit of light we can get. Now what I want is anytime ye see a rock put yer hand up in the opposite direction. I'll be able to keep in contact with Sean on the two way but I will only be able to see ye Got it?" "Yes Cap," they announced in staggered unison.

  The ship pushed on through the rough waters. Spray was launched into the air from rocks on the surface. There was a path marked with buoys but a close call showed that it couldn't be trusted. With the harbour in sight the worst was coming. So many rocks were directly in the path of the ship that it seemed that those on the bow were just waving to someone off shore.

  Sean roared down the two way, "Starboard, port, starboard, starboard port!" But it was in vain. The ship hit on the starboard side. The crushing sound of metal screeched through the storm beaten coast. Water poured into the hull.

  "All hands below, we've hit, we've hit!"

  Angel barely made it. They tied up at pier 9 with the ship barely afloat. The captain stayed aboard after hiring various dock workers to help with repairs. They got to work like a team of surgeons, as the rest headed their separate ways through the city after been given 24 hours shore leave.

  Light flickered from the candle lit windows down an old cobble lane. Sewerage ran the length of the street along shallow channels on either side of the pathway, which often blocked up sending sewerage out over the path. The smell was intimidating. Sean wasn't sure why he decided to go down that particular lane, but something tickled his curiosity.

  The buildings were very old in this quarter, the oldest in the city having been built well over 400 years before. Little work had been done to maintain them, as this was also the poorest quarter. Little town houses hugged together as if for warmth as cloths lines scaled the streets and rubbish spilled from the dilapidated homes. There were very few people around this late at night. Sean must have been walking for the best part of an hour and only passed three people. Pleasantries were exchanged.

  He came to a tavern at the end of a flight of rugged old steps. From the outside it looked like just another town house with the exception of the Ale price list on the window, but on the inside it spread out well. Sean was convinced it had taken space from the house next door but couldn't be sure as it spread out at the back aswell.

  Smoke poured out onto the streets as soon as he opened the door, and just as equally soon, a shout came through the smoke to shut the door before the smoke escapes. Sean knew the smell well. It wasn't tobacco it was fleck leaf. Common around these parst with the hippies, it had been quite some time since Sean had smoked any himself. He walked blind through the smoke with his hands out in front of him trying to feel his way to the bar. To make matters worse the lighting was quite poor, Sean guessed to
add to the effect. He could hear whispered voices coming from different corners of the room as if they had just changed topic as he entered. He found his way to a bar stool and sat down. "Well foggy in here ain't it," a short blocky bar man asked through bloodshot eyes and a cheeky grin. The man appeared to be made from grease. Sweat poured down his face and as he spoke it sprayed from his lips. His hair was deep black and set as if in stone by very expensive smelling hair wax.

  "Ya looks like ye've been working on it all day." "Aye, sure this is all we ever do, so what will it be there stranger?" "Can I get a beer, a fog, and the names Sean?" "Right Sean, I'm Jesuth, well might I recommend our house beer, and house joint?" "Sure, sure." Sean was already feeling light headed from the smoke in the room. His eyes were irritated too, going bloodshot before the fleck leaf ever kicked in.

  The ale was dry, but it didn't matter. It was the first taste of ale he'd had in longer than he could remember. The fleck leaf was more potent than Sean knew possible, as was the rumours of Roshell. It was said that they genetically modified the fleck plant using technology that nobody else in the world had cared enough about, to put the time into.