Love, Death and Robots. Volumes 2 & 3

Torrin turned to Saparin, who quickly turned away. “Should sight the islands very soon,” Torrin opined.

“Yes, very soon,” replied Saparin, not meeting his gaze.

“Almost a straight course from here on in,” said Torrin, walking round behind Saparin.

“It is that,” said Saparin.

Saparin managed a grunt as the Jorvan’s harpoon went through his spine, the point coming out of his chest just below his chin. Torrin twisted the harpoon a couple of times to be sure, but there was no more movement out of Saparin. He then wedged the butt of it against the deck and stepped away to view his handiwork. Saparin showed no sign of falling over. He would be at the helm to the end.

“Land ho!” yelled Paln.

Torrin climbed down the ladder and gestured for the three remaining crewmen to come to him as he walked out onto the deck. “Now lads,” he said, “in his way, Jorvan was right: we should escape on the shark boat. But he was wrong about us doing it out in the deeps.”

The three gaped at him as if hypnotised.

Torrin went on, “Out there we would have died – not enough food onboard and jable everywhere. Here we can do it.” He pointed to the islands now in sight. “Now, I’ll tell you what we’ll do.” He turned to Maril. “You and Chantre lower the shark boat. Do it quietly and be you ever so cautious. Paln, grab yourself a lamp and come with me.”

“What do you want me for?” Paln asked.

“Simple: we’ll burn the monster in its lair and abandon ship,” said Torrin.

Where before there had been a hopelessness, hope now bloomed.

“I’m with you, Torrin,” said Paln

“Good, then let’s get to it lads,” said Torrin.

They all moved with alacrity now, Torrin noted. In a few seconds they had forgotten everything that had happened. Was it any surprise he had become a sot having to deal with men so shallow as this? He went ahead of Paln to the mid cabin door, whilst Paln grabbed a lamp and hurried after him. Inside, Torrin ducked into the crew quarters to grab the lamp from there. While he got this lamp, Paln moved ahead of him in his eagerness. In that moment he perhaps realised his mistake for he turned at the last moment and got the belaying pin on his shoulder. He staggered against the wall and his lamp clattered to the floor. He took a breath to shout for help and Torrin smashed the belaying pin into his mouth. He fell back and Torrin hit him again across the bridge of his nose, then again and again, breaking fending hands and arms, driving Paln down to the floor.

Blinded by blood and muted by his broken face, Paln crawled away from Torrin, who let him, since he was heading for the mid-section hatch. Paln left a trail of blood as he hissed and bubbled and wheezed.

Torrin stepped past him and opened the hatch. Paln fought him with broken arms, and tried to beg with a mouth full of blood. Torrin tipped him in and then, after a pause, he followed. Paln continued to fight below as Torrin next dragged him to the door into the hold, it took some time and further blows from the belaying pin. The moment he opened the door, the thanapod surged through, seized Paln and dragged him into the hold. It cradled him like a mother cradles its child as it chewed his bloody face.

Having retrieved his lamp, Torrin walked past, squatted by one of the tapped shark oil barrels and proceeded to fill the lamp.

“What are you doing?” the monster asked, the voice issuing from Calis even as it fed on Paln.

“Filling this lamp. We’ll need light for this coming night,” Torrin explained. He spilt oil and swore, then stood and kicked the remains of Deacon’s hammock up by the barrel to soak up the spillage.

“You said we would be there before night,” said the thanapod, as, in an offhand way, it slowly scraped out Paln’s intestines.

Torrin stood and screwed the cap back on the lamp filler. “I did say that, but I needed an excuse to lure your last meal down here,” he said.

The thanapod accepted this, so Torrin headed for the ladder and climbed without looking back, aware that the oil from the tap he had not shut off, poured soundlessly into Deacon’s shredded hammock.

* * *

Torrin rushed out onto deck, slamming the door behind him. He leant against the door and gasped. He saw that Maril and Chantre had lowered the shark boat to the sea, but only Maril was in sight.

“Quick! The forward hatch!” Torrin shouted.

“Where’s Paln?” Maril asked.

“He didn’t make it. Come on; the hatch!”

Maril went with him. Torrin did not give him a chance to protest. As they reached the hatch, he handed his lamp to Maril. “Quick, light it.”

Maril pulled sulphur matches from his pocket and did as bid while Torrin undid the latch and opened the hatch.

“Turn the wick up! Bring it over here!” Torrin shouted.

Maril rushed over, winding the lamp wick up as he came. By the time he reached Torrin, flames were coming out round the glass of the lamp.

“Throw it in!” Torrin yelled.