The Black Lung Captain - By Chris Wooding Page 0,46

forest. There was a meaty impact, and she pulled her hand back with an arrow sticking through the palm. Frey stared at her.

'Ow,' she murmured. She went faint, staggered back and sat down heavily. Malvery went to attend to her just as Silo and Crake came running up the passageway, their packs loaded with Crake's gear.

'What's going on?' Crake demanded of the group in general.

'Beast-men!' said Hodd. 'They appear to have the advantage over us.'

'Can't you do something, Crake?' Pinn asked. 'You're a daemonist, aren't you? Make them die or something. Shoot fireballs!'

'Daemonism. you bloody dullard, is a science and an art!' Crake declared indignantly. 'I'm not some two-bit stage magician. If you want to make them dead, use your gun. It's what it's there for.'

Fat lot of good you are, then,' Pinn muttered.

Frey shook his head in exasperation. Pinn never failed to get a rise out of Crake, even when he was in his blackest humours. He was pleased that his crew were just about capable of working together as a unit nowadays; he just wished they could do it without all the bitching and bickering. But then, he supposed, they wouldn't be his crew.

'Malvery?' he called. 'How's Jez?'

'She's okay, Cap'n. Won't be playing the piano for a while, though. Now grit your teeth, Jez, that arrow's gotta come out.'

'Why does it have to come ouaaaaaAAARRGH!!’

'There, now. That wasn't so bad.'

Jez was still whimpering as Malvery applied the bandages. Grist hunkered up next to Frey. 'We can't let 'em shut us in,' he said. 'If we don't move now, there'll be too many of 'em.'

'There's probably already too many of them.'

'Well, then there'll be even more,' said Grist. 'We can't stay here. Might be this breach is the only way in and out of this dreadnought, but might be there are others. We don't know 'em, but maybe the beast-men do. They could get in behind us.'

Frey chewed his lip. 'You're talking about a death-or-glory break for freedom, aren't you?'

'Might be I am.'

'I hate those.'

'Done many?'

'Not lately.'

'Don't worry.' Grist laid a heavy hand on Frey's shoulder. 'I've done a few. They always work out.'

'Well, 'course they do,' said Frey. 'If they hadn't, you wouldn't be here to talk about it.'

Grist chewed over the logic of that. 'You want to live for ever or somethin'?'

'I told you. Yes.'

'Sirs,' said Hodd, breaking into their debate. 'Might I make a suggestion?'

'What is it?' Frey asked impatiently. But he lost all interest in a response the moment he saw a shaggy figure running up the passageway behind Hodd, a spear raised in its hand.

He reacted instinctively, lunging towards Hodd and shoving him out of the way, aiming with his other hand. He squeezed the trigger too late to stop the beast-man releasing the spear, but he saw it coming and pulled his shoulder back just in time to avoid being impaled. The spear flew past them all and clattered harmlessly down the passageway. The beast-man staggered, dropped to one knee, and keeled over.

Lucky shot, thought Frey. Lucky dodge. Lucky all round, really.

Hodd was staring at him with awe. 'You saved my—'

'Yeah, yeah. Anyone see any more coming?' He ducked as an arrow from outside flew in through the breach and bounced off the metal wall.

'Can't see any right now,' Malvery replied.

'I hear them,' said Jez. She'd taken on that trance-like, distant look that she got more and more lately. Or it might just have been the shock of getting an arrow pulled out of her hand. 'A dozen or so. They're inside the craft.'

Frey turned to Grist, and saw the captain staring intently at Jez, a frown on his face. 'She's got good ears,' he said quickly. 'Seems like you were right. There is another way in. We can't stay here.'

Grist stuck a fresh cigar in his mouth and lit it with a match. 'Death or glory, then?'

Frey sighed. 'I suppose so.'

They spilled from the breach in a disorganised mass, guns pointing everywhere, firing randomly and shouting insults. The rainforest hid their assailants. Arrows thumped into the ground at their feet or hissed through the air, coming from nowhere. They ran headlong towards the enemy, racing for the low ridge which was the only way out of the trap. It was just visible through the trees, a craggy wall three or four times the height of a man. They'd have to climb it, while those bloody beast-men were doing their level best to kill them.

Frey was terrified. Full-frontal assaults were among his least