The Bookman - Lavie Tidhar [69]
Rising from the top of the central mast of the Joker, a bright metallic ball shone like a moon as it was hit, over and over again, by lightning.
Then he had to turn his gaze, and draw his gun, because pirates were now swarming the deck. He shot, once, and a man fell down. Then he had to duck, and someone kicked him and connected with the side of his head, and he fell back.
The man was almost on him when Orphan shot him through the chest.
Then he pushed the fallen man off him and stood up. The deck was full of fighting men. Bodies littered the ground and their blood was washed away by the rain and the wind. The deck was red and shone in the light. It was sleek with blood.
He scanned through the faces as the lightning struck ferociously down. He could see no trace of Verne, or Robur. His eyes stopped on the sight of the young ship's cook, who seemed an island of calm in the midst of battle. He was fighting three men at once, and was unarmed, while they had swords, and one was reaching for a gun. The boy's leg shot out and took one pirate in the face, breaking his nose. He whirled round then, snatched the gun from the other pirate, shot the third in the same movement, then returned the gun in an arc that took in the remaining pirate's head and connected with it.
He looked up and saw Orphan. Again, there was that nod of recognition, as if they somehow knew each other. He made a movement with his hand that said, stay low. Then he returned to the fight.
Thunder shook the deck. Orphan ducked against a threatening cutlass, slipped, fell on his back, shot. If he had hit – or who – he didn't know. He remained down and realised no one was paying him much attention. Many other bodies already littered the deck.
Thunder boomed again, the sound seeming to emerge from everywhere at once, a shockwave of noise sweeping the deck, and the lightning struck again. It illuminated the deck of the Joker and, as Orphan raised his head, what he saw made him freeze as if he had been struck.
Standing majestically on the forward-deck of the Joker was a lizard.
It was a royal lizard, a Les Lézard, and for a long moment Orphan couldn't think, could not understand what he was seeing. Then lightning flashed again and he saw the figure in stark relief, and the sailors on the deck, seeing it too, seemed to lose heart in the fight, to be pushed back by the pirates as if the appearance of the lizard signalled the end of the fight, and of the Nautilus itself.
Feet passed closed to Orphan and someone kicked him in the ribs and made him shout. A grinning, leering face loomed above him, and with it a gun that was pointed at his heart. He tried to roll, then heard a shot go off.
When he opened his eyes he was still alive, and instead of the pirate the face he saw was that of the boy-cook. "Stay down!" he said, and then he himself crouched down beside Orphan, and pointed ahead. "Wyvern," he said, his voice soft and emotionless.
The lizard had stepped onto the Nautilus' deck. He was tall and dignified-looking. He was white, decorated in pale bands, and one of his eyes was missing. He wore a black eye-patch; his other eye was red, like dying fire. He wore loose, colourful clothes, with a cutlass and a gun on either side of the body, and his tongue darted and tasted the air. He seemed to smile…
He stepped forward and the battle surged away from him. Then Orphan noticed it. The lizard wore large metal gloves, and they were pointed forward now, towards the battle, and his digits were spread evenly, and shone silver.
"Stay down!" the boy-cook hissed.
"Who is that?" Orphan hissed back. The white lizard stepped slowly forward, arms raised, digits pointing.
"Captain Wyvern."
Lightning struck.
It struck the ball on the top of the mast but, this time, did not stop there. Down the lightning went, through wires that fell down the