Chương 70: 18 The Guns of Gravehold

My sickle lifted on its own, dragging through the air like molasses. I opened both eyes in confusion. The emptiness of Fel Rock flooded me through my broken goggle lens. Line inched upward, rising parallel to the citadel wall. A figure practically hung over the edge of the parapets, hand thrust out as she telekinetically guided the blade home. Naomi. The sickle lifted, hovering until it latched down between the wall's crenellations.

"Antonio!" A voice bellowed behind me as green ghostlight washed the street. I turned to the Undertide, slicing through the road like water. Captain Vale hung over his figurehead, clinging to the carved woman with one hand. His other hand gripped Dawn Verdict. White system flames flickered along the cold iron cutlass.

"Antonio Marco Moretti!" he roared. My name. How did he know my name? The Dawn Verdict rose, the curve of the blade angled at me. A challenge. The jade luminous ship barreled down the street. Crew members barely visible through the hull raised their weapons, ready to cut me to pieces as soon as I phased through ghostly wood. Vampires and Shads on the wall screamed for me to move. I couldn't even stand. So, I made a fist. Line's golden thread, now anchored to the citadel wall, snapped tight.

My shoulder jerked, and I shot away from the beast's jaws. Tears whipped from my eyes as wind tore at my face. I ripped past a manor chimney, nearly taking my leg off, then I began my rise. My bloodied and torn cloak whipped and snapped. A trajectory shaft raced out ahead of me, lengthening as I picked up velocity. The Undertide shrank behind me. The wall grew—far too fast. In a matter of moments, I'd be like a grape fired from a slingshot and splattered across stone. My jaw locked, every muscle burning.

It was okay. Even if I crushed myself against the wall, my inventory would eject, and Naomi would still have her cold iron. Naomi stepped between crenellations and threw her hand forward. Psionic force slammed into me, not like a hammer, but like a strong wind. My trajectory path shortened as her counterforce bled speed from my flight. I'd still break every bone in my body. The Fel-folk raved and roared, voices crescendoing as I rocketed toward them.

Strength sapped from my fingers, and my golden thread began to fade. Too much. The world blurred, the edges of my vision darkening. I dipped toward unconsciousness. Line's spectral filament winked out. I dropped, hurtling toward the wall, too low. Naomi snarled, casting out a second hand. Psychic force buffeted me, dragging me to a stop just below the parapet.

"I've got you!" she cried, face slick with sweat.

"Help!" Fel retainers and mages lurched on the walls to lend aid. A Shad necromancer pointed a wand at me. A pale blue spectral hand clamped tight around my arm, stabilizing me in the air. A Void Hag crooked a bent finger in my direction. Shadowed skeletal wings arched out from my shoulder blades, and my weight was halved. A hooded mage aimed a staff at me. Dust coalesced into three skulls fused together under my feet. Their spells lifted together. I crested the wall walk.

A raging cheer ripped across the defenders. A Wight and a Vampire in Fel Court livery leaned out. Undead hands seized my wrists and guided me back onto solid stone. I collapsed under my own weight, and Naomi dropped to her knees, catching me.

"Tony!" <<System Notice: Level Up>> Her eyes scanned my many wounds and filth-ridden clothing.

"Nao—I" I choked on words, voice betraying me. The emptiness of Fel fought the pain, each side tearing me in a different direction.

"The Mortal couldn't feed a babe!" a Void Hag remarked, eyes inky black and needle fangs peeking from her upper lip.

"I need a healer!" Naomi called, shifting to keep me from toppling over. The Void Hag knelt, grey skin pulled right over her skull. Midnight braids twisted from the back half of her head, leaving the front half completely bald. She grabbed my hand, her talons caressing the scales on the back of my hand.

"Hmm, unique," she purred.

"A transmutation perhaps to seal the wound." My eyelids fluttered. Archers crowded in around us, leaning in to get a look. A sanguine bead appeared between her fingers.

"With your permission, Princess."

"It won't hurt him?"

"Not as much as it will help." Naomi's jaw tensed, then she nodded once.

"Do it." Before I could make a noise, the Void Hag crammed the bead into my mouth. What I'd taken for glass had turned out to be a warm, squishy membrane.

"Now bite, little mutant," she ordered. The ball swelled between my teeth as my jaw tightened. Then, metallic salt burst in my mouth. <<Blood Draught: Warning—Partially Incompatible Physiology>> I lurched, vomiting. Gallons of blood fountained from my mouth. Red drops bled from the corners of my eyes, ran out from my ears, and gushed from every wound. Sickly warmth swelled within me, veins filling. The flow stopped, and I gasped. My vision went scarlet.

The scales on my hands and arms tinted blood red, and blood droplets trickled out from between them. My muscles swelled, and sharp points pierced my fingertips from the inside. My gut lurched, and I spewed more blood across the battlements. Shad archers pulled away in disgust. Vampires leaned in, pink eyes burning with hunger. My wounds sealed, searing like a cauterization, and smoke billowed from my nose. I made a fist. My scales had spread, new black talons hooking from my fingertips. My fist was full Drake-kin.

Her Blood Draught, whatever it was, had pushed me toward my father's bloodline.

"What did you do?" Naomi cried.

"It'll pass, Princess," the Void Hag said.

"In the meantime, he'll live." A heat in my head banished the emptiness of Fel Rock. I pulled my single goggle off and threw it down.

"To the cannons!" I barked, my voice an octave too low. An ammo crate blinked into existence, and my hand slammed down on it. The defenders parted, and I stomped down the wall walk. My skin felt too tight, bloated. I stopped at a cannon. It had to be over a hundred years old. A scarred golem turned toward me. Without skin, the brute was all exposed muscle and tendon.

"Move," I ordered. It stepped back. I ripped the lid from the crate and palmed a cold iron cannonball. I scanned my terminal. With the Blood Draught, I was running a whopping +2 Might buff. The defenders silently watched as I loaded the cannon. Below, the Undertide had returned to sweeping in wide arcs along the ward barrier. I scanned the cannon for ratchets or windlasses. There were none. The cannon was fixed in place.

A shriveled Draugr handed me a smoldering length of matchcord, his eyes inky black within his helm. I stepped back, watching the cannon's trajectory path. With an artillery piece so old, I'd have to wait for the Undertide to align itself with my shot. My eyes shifted up toward the skinless golem.

"Give me a hand?" I asked. It grunted and lumbered forward. I pointed.

"Aim for the boat." Rather than pushing or pulling its wheels, the skinless golem wrapped long fingers under the cannon's wheeled carriage and lifted.

"Perfect," I said, heart slamming unnaturally hard and fast. I rubbed my chest. Skin and scales itched uncomfortably.

"Up, right… A little more. Okay, put her down." The cannon's trajectory path spilled onto a street just ahead of the Undertide. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it The wall went completely silent, the undead going still and the living holding their breath. I rubbed blood from my eye and watched the Undertide's trajectory path.

"One, two—" I lowered the match to the touch hole. The cannon belched smoke, a cold iron ball snapping away. Everyone watched. I already knew. Cold iron smashed into the underside of the upper hull, blasting planks inward. In the distance, ghostly sailors screamed in pain. A roar ripped from the walls. Defenders clashed weapons to shields and stamped their feet. The Undertide stayed on its current path, ghosts rushing to patch the damage. <<Corin: Just made it past the wards, bringing a lot more cold iron.

Good shot, Tony. >>"Well," I called, face impassive.

"I say they're welcome to stay if they want." More munitions crates slammed to the ground at my feet, conjured from my inventory.

"Fish in a barrel, ship in a city, what's the difference, really?" Draugr artillerists had the whole line loaded minutes later.

"Cannon One, left seven up two. Cannon Two, down three. Cannon Three, stay right where you are. Cannon Four, right fifteen!" Draugr warriors, little more than mummified skin pulled tight over bones, moved, grabbing and manually steering the cannons.

"One, left two more!" I corrected. The shafts lined up, all converging on the same point just ahead of the Undertide.

"Make ready!" I called, hand rising. Smoldering matches hovered over touch holes. I dropped my hand.

"Fire!" The guns roared. My eyes followed easily. The trajectory paths vanished behind the shells as they rode the projection shafts. Splinters from the Undertide's bulwark sprayed Captain Vale at the helm. A hole snapped through the sail. A new breach near the bow ruptured inward. The damaged timbers flickered orange around the edges, like glowing steel rather than wood. The defenders cheered, and the Undertide banked away sharply. Naomi exhaled, shoulders slumping.

"Smart," I said, pressure raging through my veins. <<Naomi: Undertide is on the run! We got it! >> A grin split her face as she watched the pale green ship retreat.

"It's going for the water," I said, brow furrowing as I watched. It arched wide around the port before sliding into murky waters. I cleared my throat.

"Is the Winter Maiden—""The ships are all untouched," Naomi said.

"Captain Corvelli has the Death Keel aboard the Revenant's Requiem."

"Death Keel?" I asked.

"Magic artifact. It's a bell. The ghosts can't tolerate its sound."

"Where is the prince?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

"With Lord Bloodshackle," Naomi said quickly, lowering her voice.

"It's like he's actually concerned about his father."

"Well, look at that," I said, matching her volume as I leaned against the battlements.

"In what world would a son be worried about his father?" The pressure under my skin began to subside.

"They're Vampires. It's different." My hand tingled and I lifted it as the claws at the end of my fingertips dissolved to dust. The red drained from my scales, and the grey emptiness of Fel began to assail my mind. I swayed, the wall spinning. Naomi stabilized me with a hand.

"What was that thing the creepy lady gave me?" I murmured.

"Nothing you should ever take again," she said. I scratched my neck, a sharp pinch in my throat.

"Do we have any water?" I asked, my voice hoarse. She laughed, squeezing my arm.

"Yes, you earned it." She started for the stairs, and I followed. A sickly ache throbbed in my joints, like poisonous sunlight under my skin. <<Flavia Myrkrath: Don't let it get away. >> Naomi and I both read the message at the same time.

"She wants us to chase it?" I asked.

"That would take us further from the crypt."

"It would leave Lucian in charge of the city uncontested," she murmured.

"Well," I said, "Corin and I had better get to the Winter Maiden."

"I'm coming too," she said.

"You're the one who should stay behind. You need rest." My step faltered, a sudden memory rushing back. Captain Vale had known my name. I rubbed my forefinger with my thumb. My knees wanted to give out, and my body yearned to hibernate, but I couldn't.

"No," I said.

"I'm following Vale."

"Then it looks like we're a party again," she said. She winced as the words left her lips.

"Bianca," I said.

"We'll go back for her. I promise. I left my best to watch over her." Naomi nodded once, then rushed down the stairs. My body groaned as I followed.

"Castellan Vesper!" she called. A Death Knight stomped forward, two glowing pinpricks of violet dancing within his helmet.

"I'm leaving. Secure Grimton. We need new wards; I don't want that thing able to cross the city's threshold."

"Yes, Princess," his voice rumbled from deep within his armor. She nodded once and sprinted further. I shrugged apologetically at the armored hulk as I jogged past.

"Hikwark, prepare a carriage. Gecibral, assemble my crew!" Undead servants scattered to execute her orders. I caught up, panting as she shot off again.

"You kidding me?" I rasped, stabilizing myself on a pillar for a moment. No. If I couldn't keep up, I had no business tagging along. I pushed on, wishing desperately for that drink I never got. Descending yet another flight of stairs, I entered the great hall, pulling up abruptly. Thousands of cots littered the ground, a mass of filthy townspeople and civilians jamming the area.

The crowd choked the chamber with one exception—the Void Well stood in solitude, ringed by an empty circle where none dared venture too close. My shoulders tensed as I spotted the black bucket and ring of stones out of place in the royal hall.

"Excuse me." I elbowed and weaved my way after Naomi. Serevian and Corin rushed up to her.

"Get to the Winter Maiden," she said.

"We're going after the Undertide."

"Got the shells loaded in my inventory," Corin said.

"I'm ready."

"I'm coming too," Serevian said.

"If you'll have me, Princess."

"It's Captain," Naomi corrected, "and sure." She peered around him.

"Who's the icicle?" Glace tugged on the strap of his backpack, clearing his throat as he waved.

"Hi, Princess—I mean Captain."

"Don't tell me you want to come too?" Glace blushed, waving his arms and shaking his head.

"Jorg, no. I'm a clerk, not a warrior."

"Then I need your skills here. Find the Castellan. He'll find a way to put you to work." The blue Gnome bowed deeply before melting back into the crowd.

"Make way!" a Vampire called.

"Make way for Captain Myrkrath!" The townsfolk divided.

"Captain Myrkrath," he called.

"Your carriage is ready!" Unimpeded, we found a court carriage, drawn by a team of the disconcertingly tall, lean, pale horses. <<Flavia Myrkrath: Captain Corvelli is pursuing the Undertide with the Death Keel. Get some cold iron out there and sink that ship! >>"In," Naomi ordered. We piled inside, and a skeletal footman shut the door. With the crack of a whip, the carriage lurched, trundling down the street. Corin drew the curtain, glancing out at the sky.

"Link established." A map populated my terminal, showing the northern ridge of the island. Two ships looped around the bay, one ghostly green, the other tattered and black.

"Captain Corvelli has a link stone," Corin said.

"Linking him to the group chat now."

"I just contacted the Winter Maiden," Naomi relayed.

"Elara's preparing to cast off." <<Corin: Captain Corvelli, we're on the way with cold iron. Try to keep the Undertide in the bay. >> I fixated on the top-down view of the ships. Ghostly fire flared from Vale's ship. <<The Revenant's Requiem: Busy. Hurry. >>"Naomi, is Dustnose aboard?" I asked.

"One sec." She nodded.

"He is."

"Can you pass a message for me?"

"Here, I'm connecting you to the Maiden's link stone." <<A new contact has been populated: The Winter Maiden>> I glanced out at the overcast sky, ensuring a proper connection. That was a mistake. The grey hit back, a claw of void ripping at my insides. I cursed, tearing my gaze down and covering my eyes. What was the point of any of this? Was the world warm enough to even try saving? My thumb and forefinger drove into my eyes as I tried to banish the Island's influence. <<Tony: Elara, get Dustnose on the kisses.

Tell him, position eight, no ball, we're supplying the payload. >> The carriage swept past the ward line, and the wheels jarred against potholes and debris. <<The Winter Maiden: Done. >> Out the window, the low report of cannon fire echoed faintly, followed by the distant toll of a bell. The ships on the top-down display flashed. Corin squinted at his HUD.

"Captain Corvelli's keeping the Undertide at bay with the bell," he announced.

"But the Undertide is hammering away. Seems like both are determined to claim a victory today."" Can the Undertide sink the Requiem?" I asked, rubbing my temples. I recalled the breaches in the hull and the ragged sail. The Requiem should have sunk long ago.

"I guess we'll see if the curse still holds when it's blasted to matchsticks," Serevian said, anxiously plucking at his bowstring.

"It'll endure," Naomi said, hand tightening into a fist.

"If the Requiem can keep Vale in the bay, we'll sink him once and for all."

"Let it slip away, and it could hit us from any direction, at any time," Corin warned. I straightened in my seat.

"Are we—" I cut off, but everyone had already turned to me.

"Are we sure we want to sink the Undertide?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Serevian demanded, sharp brows angling inward.

"Captain Vale just massacred our forces, wounded our lord, and ravaged my city." I choked on my words. He knew my name. What had the Hobgoblin Ghost said before knocking my lights out?

"Lucky you have a good friend."

"It's just—why is he working for the Bloodwake? Puppetmaster blows two new holes in the sky, and finally, after hundreds of years, the Undertide randomly goes rogue?" I shook my head.

"I don't think we see the whole picture."

"Context or no," Serevian said, shoulders tightening, "he attacked the Fel Court. We will answer in kind."

"He's right," Naomi said.

"This is a crisis, and we're the solution." The wheels struck a pile of bricks that had been blasted across the road, and the carriage jolted. In the corner of my vision, the Requiem and the Undertide circled each other on the top-down minimap.

"Of course you're right," I said as I shifted my cutlass and saber. Both swords dug into my side in the confined space. The street blurred by. Guilt tugged at me for allowing myself to relax when the situation called for action, but I wasn't going to outrun a horse in my current state. I pulled up my messages and sent one. <<Tony: Bianca, please be okay. I will come for you. >> Horses whinnied, and the coach pulled to a halt.

"We're not there yet," Naomi said, eyes narrowing. I opened the door, ducking out. The emptiness was growing. Outside, it had more bite, like ice. The others tumbled out after me, Serevian resting an arrow across his bow.

"Driver, why have we stopped?" Naomi said, stepping out. The coachman gripped the reins in skeletal hands, a hood pulled over his head, plunging his face into shadow. A bony hand came up, pointing. The road was gone, buried under several tons of rubble where a building had collapsed.

"Horses aren't getting through that," I muttered, starting forward.

"The docks aren't far. Let's go." <<The Winter Maiden: Ready to cast off. Where are you? >> Naomi swiped her screen in frustration. We climbed through shattered brick and splintered timbers. The docks opened up before us on the other side.

"Captain!" Bebi called, waving over the Winter Maiden's bulwark.

"Ya gonna hoof it or what? Last I heard, ghosts need killing!" <<Time to Seal Collapse: 02: 00: 05: 01: 58: 07>>