The Crippled God

‘Presumably, the hold is full of water.’



‘A fair presumption, Highness.’



‘It needs to be—’



A terrible groaning sound reverberated through the deck at their feet.



Felash’s eyes went wide. ‘Oh, what is that?’



‘That is us, Highness. Sinking. Now, you mentioned a ritual. If it involves a certain Elder God of the seas, I should warn you, I cannot vouch for your well-being should my crew learn of it.’



‘Really? How distressing. Well, a ritual such as the one I am suggesting may not necessarily involve that decidedly unpleasant individual. In fact—’



‘Forgive me for interrupting, Highness, but it has just occurred to me that this particular contest of understatement is about to be fatally terminated. While I have thoroughly enjoyed it, I now believe you have been a truly unwitting participant. How well can you swim, since I believe we shall not have time to reach the launches …’



‘For goodness’ sake.’ Felash turned about, gauging the scene on all sides. Then she gestured.



The Undying Gratitude shuddered. Water foamed up from the hatch. Rigging whipped as if in a gale, the stumps of the shattered masts quivering. The ship grunted as it rolled level again. To either side the water swirled. Shouts of fright came from the two launches, and Shurq Elalle heard the screams commanding axes to the lines. A moment later she saw both lifeboats pulling away, neither one fully manned, whilst the rest of her crew, along with Skorgen Kaban, bellowed and cursed from where they clung to the port gunwale. Water washed across the mid-deck.



Princess Felash was studying the lay of the ship, one finger to her plump, painted lips. ‘We must drain the hold,’ she said, ‘before we dare lift her higher. Agreed, Captain? Lest the weight of the water break the hull apart?’



‘What are you doing?’ Shurq demanded.



‘Why, saving us, of course. And your ship, which we still need despite its deplorable condition.’



‘Deplorable? She’s just fine, damn you! Or she would be, if you hadn’t—’



‘Now now, Captain, manners, please. I am nobility, after all.’



‘Of course, Highness. Now, please save my sorry ship, and once that is done, we can discuss other matters at our leisure.’



‘Excellent suggestion, Captain.’



‘If you could have done this at any time, Highness—’



‘Could, yes. Should, most certainly not. Once more we bargain with terrible forces. And once more, a price must be paid. So much for “never again”!’



Shurq Elalle glanced over at her first mate and crew. The deck they stood upon was no longer under water, and the sound of a hundred pumps thundered the length of the hull. But we don’t have a hundred pumps and besides, no one is down there . ‘It’s Mael again, isn’t it?’



Felash glanced over, lashes fluttering. ‘Alas, no. The difficulty we’re having at the moment, you see, stems precisely from our deliberate avoidance of that personage. After all, this is his realm, and he is not one to welcome rivals. Therefore, we must impose a physicality that resists Mael’s power.’



‘Highness, is this the royal “we”?’



‘Ah, do you feel it, Captain?’



Thick, billowing fog now rose around the ship – the two lifeboats disappeared from sight, and their crews’ cries were suddenly silenced, as if those men and women ceased to exist. In the dread hush that followed, Shurq Elalle saw Skorgen and her remaining dozen sailors huddling down on the deck, their breaths pluming, frost sparkling to life on all sides.



‘Highness—’



‘What a relief from that heat, don’t you agree? But we must now be stern in our position. To give up too much at this moment could well prove fatal.’



‘Highness,’ Shurq tried again, ‘who do we bargain with now?’



‘The Holds are half forgotten by most, especially the long dormant ones. Imagine our surprise, then, when a frozen corpse should awaken and rise into the realm of life once more, after countless centuries. Oh, they’re a hoary bunch, the Jaghut, but, you know, I still hold to a soft regard for them, despite all their extravagances. Why, in the mountains of North Bolkando there are tombs, and as for the Guardians, well—’



‘Jaghut, Highness? Is that what you said? Jaghut?’



‘Surely this must be panic, Captain, your constant and increasingly rude interruptions—’



‘You’re locking us all in ice?’



‘Omtose Phellack, Captain. The Throne of Ice, do you see? It is awake once more—’