01 - The Burning Shore by Robert Ear - (ebook by Undead) Page B

way.”
    “Yes sir, Lundorf mentioned it.”
    “Can’t see a knight using a youngster as bait while he hid behind a
barricade.”
    “It was an ambush, sir.”
    “Sure he was a knight?”
    “Yes. I mean…”
    “And those orcs. Completely disorganised, you said. No leaders.”
    “They might have had some leaders,” Florin shrugged. “It was so long ago.”
    “How long ago?”
    “Three years. Or was it five?”
    “I’m a colonel, not an auctioneer,” van Delft snapped. He let the silence
become uncomfortable before turning to his subordinate.
    “Mad or not, your sergeant’s a gift from Sigmar, your men seem to respect you
and you’re not as stupid as you look.”
    “Thank you, si—”
    “But if you ever lie to me again I will throw you off the pay roll. Which
would leave you with quite a long walk home, wouldn’t you say?”
    Florin, his bluff called, nodded meekly and looked out to sea.
    “Yes, it would be. Thanks.”
    “Don’t mention it,” van Delft waved away the thanks. “And for Sigmar’s sake
don’t go telling anybody else about this little chat. I doubt if they’d be quite
so… forgiving.”
    “No, sir.”
    “Right then, that’s sorted. I hope you won’t take offence, but I want to get
to the Beaujelois before the Tileans start serving up dinner. Gods know
how they do it, but their lads seem to be able to make anything taste good.”
     
    The four morsels drifted through the cathedral heights of the warm, upper
reaches of its domain.
    Adjusting to the unfamiliar light, the black orbs of its eyes changed from
onyx to ivory. Gradually they adjusted to the blinding brightness of the long
forgotten sun, and it bathed in the new sensations of light and darkness.
    By the time it reached the first corpse it could make out every ripple of the
sodden cloth which bound it, and every silver movement of the tiny fish which
nibbled at its bloated flesh.
    Although this prey was obviously long dead, still it attacked. The impact of
its first bite tore the body in half, and filled the water with a mahogany cloud
of blood. Swallowing the man’s torso it turned, an incredibly agile loop for
such a huge creature, and returned for the remains.
    There was no taste, not really. Just a sudden burst of ecstasy as the torn
meat pulsed down into its stomach.
    Spurred on, it lunged for the next body, and the next. By the time it had
taken the fourth the sensation of fresh meat had set its appetite on fire.
Arcing through the bright heights, its own blood pounding with a hideous
excitement, it scented the currents for more human flesh.
     
    As the second full moon rolled over the Destrier the long, sweltering
heat grew heavier. Sometimes, beneath the blue furnace of the tropical skies, it
became almost unbearable. Combined with the shrinking rations and the void of
the endless ocean, it had conspired to drive more than one man into an insanity
of despair, or violence. So far the Destrier had been lucky. The
maddening heat hadn’t ignited the explosive tensions that had covered the deck
of the Hippogriff with blood, nor had it boiled anyone’s brains enough
to send them diving into the vastness of the ocean.
    Lorenzo had actually seen the victim of the heat; he had watched him throw
himself from the Beaujelois gunwale only to be hauled sobbing back out of
the water by his comrades. At the time the sight had united Bretonnian and
Kislevite both in uneasy laughter, but mock the Tileans as they might, most of
them had already felt an inkling of his desperation.
    There was already a rumour afoot that they’d missed Lustria. The storm, some
said, had pushed them so far to the south that they’d rounded the cape and were
now heading away into the endless oceans beyond. Others spoke of empty water
casks, and the chaos that was to come when the last few drops were gone.
    Thoughts such as these had led Lorenzo to today’s plan. It wasn’t much of a
plan, more a way of driving such nightmares from