The Grim Company

Hard Decisions

Cole retched one more time, heaving until there was nothing left inside him and he thought his innards were going to spill out of his mouth. Between the constant rocking sensation and the foul stench, scarcely an hour passed when he didn’t feel the need to empty his gut. Puddles of piss and dark mounds of excrement lay mingled with vomit, blood and other assorted filth on the floor beneath him. The one saving grace was that it was too dim to see the putrid mess in all its glory. Cracks in the planking above allowed a few narrow shafts of light to illuminate the faces of his fellow prisoners, but they didn’t reach far enough to penetrate the darkest recesses of the cargo hold.

Someone kill me, he thought miserably. The Redemption had set sail the night before, and while the small carrack was making good time they still had the better part of a day and night before they reached their destination.

Of the forty men on board, almost half were consigned to the cargo hold. Their ankles were shackled to ensure they didn’t try to escape. The rest of the ship’s passengers were above decks: Kramer, the disgraced former admiral of Dorminia’s fleet, now captain of the Redemption, and his first mate, a bald-headed brute of a man named Vargus; their crew, ten of the bravest — or stupidest — men they could convince to sail the ship; a dozen Crimson Watchmen to maintain order and help operate the small arsenal of heavy artillery in case of attack; and finally Falcus, the lisping Augmentor overseeing the expedition. He’d already murdered one captive for refusing to return to the hold after they’d been allowed on deck for their morning meal. The Augmentor had clucked in annoyance, whipped out his crossbow and put a quarrel through the man’s head at point-blank range. The body had been hurled overboard to sink to the bottom of the Broken Sea.

Cole’s ankles were chafed raw from his shackles, his ribs still ached and he’d been pissing blood ever since Goodlady Cyreena had clobbered him in the balls and shoved a needle in him.

She had been waiting down at the docks to watch them depart. Cole had longed to spit in her face or break away from his captors and drown her in the harbour. When she’d met his gaze with those strangely familiar eyes of hers, however, he’d felt his legs turn to jelly and promptly vomited all over the Crimson Watchman beside him. That had earned him a rough backhand across the face.

I want to die. He’d never known suffering like this. He was trapped on a cramped and filthy ship, his body a mass of agonies, any single one of which would likely incapacitate a lesser man. Even a hero had his limits.

Not for the first time Davarus Cole cursed his ill luck. He was on his way to the Swell, a place sailors spoke of only in the most fearful of whispers. The odds of him returning to Dorminia and the glorious future he had been promised were growing worse by the hour.

‘Stop your snivelling, boy,’ spat Three-Finger. He was an evil-looking fellow, with dirty grey stubble covering his scabrous face and piggish eyes staring from beneath a brow that seemed permanently furrowed. His left hand was missing its index and middle fingers. As a boy he had been caught stealing in the Bazaar.

From the other captives Cole had learned Three-Finger was also missing half a cock, having more recently been charged with numerous counts of rape and sentenced accordingly. He scowled at anyone he caught looking at him whenever he decided to take a piss, which was often.

‘My nose is broken,’ Cole replied sullenly. ‘I wasn’t snivelling. You don’t know what I’ve been through.’

Three-Finger laughed. ‘Aren’t you a special snowflake. Take a look around, kid. Every man in this shithole has a sorry tale to share. You think I want to be here? It was this or swing in the Hook until the crows pecked off the rest of my prick. I figured the Swell would be quicker and a good deal less painful.’

One of the other captives coughed, a horrible hacking that told of some illness in his lungs. ‘I didn’t even have a choice,’ the man said, once he’d wiped the blood away from his mouth. ‘The Watch burst into my home. They told me I’d been found guilty of treason.’ He coughed again before continuing. ‘Taxes were raised so high to fund the war with Shadowport that my business collapsed and my wife had to take to the streets to support our family. I called Salazar every name under the sun, didn’t see the mindhawk until it was too late. Then the Black Lottery chose me.’

‘What kind of trade you in?’ Three-Finger asked. He had a rash on the side of his face and kept scratching at it with his maimed hand.

‘I’m an engineer,’ the sick man replied. ‘I ran a business. Soeman’s Solutions on Artifice Street.’

‘I know it,’ Three-Finger said. ‘You’re Soeman, then?’

The engineer nodded and lapsed into another fit of coughing. ‘Those in charge of this operation must have thought I’d be useful to them,’ he said once he recovered. ‘Otherwise I’d be dead. Armin is directing the mining operation. Maybe he requested an additional engineer aboard the ship.’

‘The Swell,’ exclaimed a red-nosed man of advanced years chained nearby. ‘I’ve sailed the Broken Sea for thirty years — travelled to the Drowned Coast and the ruins of old Andarr, and west further still, out onto the great Endless Ocean. Yet never once did I venture near that accursed place. They say the Swell marks the spot where Malantis plummeted from the heavens. His corpse rots there still.’

The old seadog’s voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. Cole struggled to hear him over the creaking of stressed wood and the murmuring of waves washing against the hull.

‘A ship can be sailing happily along one minute — and the next, it’s twenty feet under water. That ain’t the worse though. I’ve heard tales of craft that have crested a wave only for the sea’s surface to plummet a hundred foot or more in an instant. He might be dead, but the Lord of the Deep don’t rest easy in his watery grave. His rage is unquenchable, they say, and he’ll scupper any ship that dares disturb his resting place.’

The old sailor’s words sent a shudder of fear rippling through Cole and the other captives within hearing distance. Danger was one thing, a calculated risk to overcome. What the veteran sailor described amounted to playing roulette with the very sea itself.

‘This is suicide!’ he gasped.

Three-Finger grinned, revealing crooked yellow teeth. ‘I hope those wankers know what they’ve let themselves in for.’

The hatch above up them suddenly banged open and sunlight flooded the hold. Cole blinked tears from his stinging eyes. Once his vision had cleared, he saw the weather-beaten face of First Mate Vargus staring at them. Sweat ran in rivulets down his bald head and scarred cheeks.

‘Captain Kramer wants you all up on deck,’ he barked at them. ‘We’re coming down to open your shackles. Any of you so much as looks like causing trouble, that man gets to feed the fishes.’

He disappeared. A rope ladder was lowered, and four men of the Watch climbed down into the hold. Each wore chainmail and carried a steel longsword in his hand.

Cole briefly considered trying to overpower the soldier unlocking his shackles, but a glance at the open hatch revealed Falcus and a half-dozen Watchmen positioned around the edge of the hold, crossbows at the ready. The young Shard’s appraising gaze became a sickly grin when the Augmentor caught him staring at them. Cole gulped and quickly looked away.

Ten minutes later and the captives were huddled together on the main deck. The Crimson Watch surrounded them, swords in hand. Captain Kramer stood on the forecastle. Falcus was to his right, fondling his crossbow as if looking for any excuse to shoot someone. Vargus brooded to the captain’s left.

Kramer placed his hands on the forecastle’s rail and surveyed the men arrayed below him. The stress of recent events had affected him: he looked thin, almost frail. His grey hair was cropped close to his head and his weathered face looked tired. Even so, his voice was strong and clear.

‘By now, you all know where we are going,’ he said loudly. ‘The Swell, a place said to be haunted by the restless spirit of the Lord of the Deep. Be that as it may, we are all here for a reason. Many of you are convicted criminals who have chosen to be part of this voyage rather than face the noose or the headsman’s axe. Some of you are free men who possess the courage to risk your lives in pursuit of greater fortunes. I salute your bravery.

‘I am here because I failed Dorminia and our lord. In his wisdom and mercy, Salazar saw fit to grant me a second chance. I will not fail him again.’

Cole looked around as Kramer’s words rolled across the deck. The wind was a constant whistling presence, shaking the mainmast looming over them and buffeting the sails high above their heads. The Redemption’s flag displayed a white background, but in an ironic modification of the arms borne by the Crimson Watch, the Obelisk had been replaced by a gibbet. The significance couldn’t have been lost on Kramer or anyone else aboard the carrack.

In the distance, Red Bounty struggled vainly to keep pace alongside the swifter carrack. The huge cog was loaded with mining equipment and a skeleton crew of sailors and miners desperate enough to risk their lives in an expedition to the Swell. The dark waters of the Broken Sea lapped hungrily at her sides.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Cole imagined drowning in that sea, thrust into an abyss of crushing saltwater that squeezed the very life from his lungs. The thought made him nauseous again.

‘Pay attention to the captain, dog!’ ordered a Watchman to the side of him. The soldier placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. Cole’s eyes obediently shifted back to Kramer.

‘Tomorrow morning we will arrive at the Swell’s boundary,’ the captain was saying. ‘If all goes as planned, our mining operation will be under way within a day or two. We could be stationed at the Swell for as little as a fortnight. I am a hard man, but I am also a fair one. Do as I command and you might well live long enough to return to Dorminia.’

All across the deck men perked up at the captain’s words. Cole wanted to shake them, yell at them that Kramer was just another of Salazar’s puppets, feeding them a line so that they would work themselves to death. They would be disposed of once their usefulness was at an end. He was a Shard — he knew how the Magelord operated.

‘Bullshit,’ he muttered, louder than he had intended.

‘What?’ It was the same Watchman who had warned him before. The soldier’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Did you just call the captain a liar?’

Everyone turned to look at him. He swallowed. ‘Not at all,’ he replied. ‘Everyone knows that Admir- uh, Captain Kramer is an honest man. As honest as stone, I’ve heard folk say.’

‘And just as dumb,’ Three-Finger added loudly, to Cole’s disbelief. There were gasps followed by chuckles. The face of the Watchman turned an ugly shade of red and he drew his sword. The other soldiers followed suit.

‘Halt,’ ordered Kramer from the forecastle. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ Next to the captain, Falcus had his crossbow raised and was sweeping it over the prisoners assembled below them.

‘These two clowns called you a liar and a dullard, Captain,’ the Watchman answered. ‘Say the word and I’ll put them overboard.’

Captain Kramer looked almost pained. ‘I am loath to waste more lives so early in our mission. Yet insubordination cannot be tolerated, especially from a rapist and a child-fiddler.’

A child-fiddler? Cole’s jaw dropped. A rational part of his mind told him to keep quiet, but the injustice of it all was too much to bear. ‘Forgive me, Captain, but you’re mistaken,’ he began. ‘I-’

‘Silence!’ Kramer screamed. He was shaking with anger. ‘You disgust me. Full details of your crimes were provided for each and every one of you. Some are more unfortunate than others to be here, true, but you, and you’ — he pointed at Three-Finger, and then at Cole — ‘deserve everything that might befall you on this ship. You’re the lowest form of scum.’

Cole bit down on his tongue so hard he tasted blood. This was a travesty!

‘Enough of this,’ Kramer said irritably. ‘You prisoners will be returned to the hold, where you will remain until your evening meal. If I so much as hear a complaint about the food from either of you,’ he added, glaring at Three-Finger and Cole, ‘you’ll both go over the side.’ That said, he turned his back on the crowd and disappeared off towards the bow. Falcus pointed his weapon at Cole, smiled, and then followed after the captain.

‘You crazy idiots,’ Soeman said, once they were back in the hold. ‘You almost got yourselves killed.’ He coughed and spat blood onto the soiled planking beneath them.

Three-Finger shrugged. ‘Death by drowning don’t seem so bad. I can think of nastier ways to go.’ He had an evil look in his eyes that made Cole uncomfortable.

‘Ain’t nothing worse than the Swell,’ the old sailor, Jack, spat. He made a warding sign in the air with his left hand. ‘I want to stare death in the face. Not be swallowed up by the sea when I least expect it.’

Three-Finger raised his mutilated hand and scratched at his scabrous cheek. ‘Most of us haven’t got any sailing experience. Know what that tells me? They mean to use us for all the dangerous shit — stuff no sane man would do. We won’t make it out of here, none of us.’

Cole cleared his throat noisily to get their attention. He’d had an idea. It was crazy and dangerous and some might even say foolish, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

When hard decisions need to be made, hard men step up to take them. He had read that in a book once, and it had struck a chord.

‘Once we’ve reached the spot where we’re to begin mining, what happens?’ he asked softly.

Soeman answered. ‘Red Bounty will drop anchor. We’ll board her and begin unloading the equipment. It will be heavy work.’

Cole dropped his voice to a whisper so that only Soeman, Three-Finger and Jack could hear. ‘What if we create a diversion on the Bounty? Soeman could sabotage a piece of equipment and draw the attention of the Watch. If we can empty the Redemption of soldiers, we could sneak back aboard this ship and steal it before they realize what’s happening.’

Three-Finger grinned, flashing yellow teeth. ‘And what about her crew? You think the four of us can handle a dozen men? You’re deluded.’

‘Not just the four of us,’ Cole replied. ‘I can convince some of the others to join us. The sailors on board this ship are poorly armed. They’re no warriors. On the other hand,’ he said, waving an arm at the shadowy figures scattered about the hold, ‘most of us here know how to fight. Am I right, Three-Finger?’

‘Aye, I’m a surgeon with a shank,’ the convict replied. ‘And there’s plenty more killers among us. But we’re unarmed. We’ll be cut to shreds.’

Cole just about stopped short of tapping his head knowingly. He had them right where he wanted them. ‘The mining equipment is sure to include objects that can be used as weapons. Picks and hammers, that sort of thing. While the Watch are distracted, we’ll arm the other captives, board this ship and force the Redemption to sail before those aboard Red Bounty know we’re gone.’

It was old Jack’s turn to speak. ‘I can captain this ship, that I can. Red Bounty won’t stand a chance of catching us. But where would we go?’

Cole shrugged. ‘Anywhere, so long as it’s away from Dorminia.’

Soeman shook his head slowly. ‘This is madness. We’re better off working the Swell and hoping for a pardon from the magistrates. I have a family to think about.’

Coward, Cole wanted to hiss at him, but he forced a look of compassion onto his face. ‘I understand your fears, Soeman,’ he said gently. ‘But do you think your family would want you to die out here alone in a freak accident? Or swallowed up by the Swell? No. They would want you to die fighting.’

He had a sudden flash of inspiration. ‘Besides, you’re sick. You’ve contracted something bad, Soeman. You can’t risk exposing your family to whatever disease it is you have. Better for them to discover that their beloved husband and father spent his final days a free man, sailing the sea alongside boon companions like the storied heroes of old.’

The engineer sagged. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I’ll make my family proud of me. Maybe… maybe we can send some gold home to my wife. Just so she doesn’t have to work the streets any more.’ His voice had turned hopeful.

Cole smiled. ‘Of course we will,’ he said. If we have anything left to spare. Organizing a rebel army isn’t going to be cheap. ‘I need to share my plan with the others,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait until this evening when it’s dark and I can move freely above decks.’

‘I’m with you, lad,’ said Jack. ‘I’ve wanted my own ship for years. Hah, I got caught trying to steal a pretty little schooner from the harbour. Turns out it belonged to a powerful magistrate. I was up for hanging until the Redemption called.’

‘Count me in too,’ said Three-Finger. ‘I’ll die with a weapon in hand if I’m going to die at all.’ The convict rubbed at his ravaged face again. ‘You still haven’t introduced yourself, kid. Or explained how it is you think you can convince a bunch of criminals to work together and pull off the escape of the century.’

Cole squared his shoulders and gave each of the three men a weighty stare, aches and pains forgotten in the sudden rush of pride. At last he was getting the respect he deserved! He could already see the amazement on Garrett’s face when he unveiled the full depth of his brilliance in years to come.

‘My name’s Davarus Cole,’ he said. ‘As for the exact details of how I’m planning to pull this off, you don’t need to worry yourselves. I have a lifetime’s experience with this kind of thing. You see…’ He paused momentarily for effect. ‘… this is what I do.’