Dead Stars - Part Two (The Emaneska Series) Read Free Page A

turned so fast his neck almost snapped. ‘A what ?’

    ‘A ship, Farden,’ replied Durnus, breathing in the sharps sea air of the port. ‘A sea-going vessel. Usually propelled by sails or by oars, and normally fashioned of stout wood. Or, in this case, wood and iron.’
    ‘I know what a bloody ship is, Durn… Wait. Iron?’ Farden sputtered. He could feel sweat under the collar of his fresh tunic. ‘Last time I checked, old friend, iron sank in water.’
    Durnus winked with a misty eye. ‘Not on this ship, it doesn’t. She is rather special indeed.’
    Farden eyed the ship as a farmer might eye a sabre-cat he’d just that moment found snoozing on his doormat. Fondness wasn’t a word that sprang to mind when ships were mentioned, especially in the dubious context of stepping aboard one.
    ‘Examine her all you want, Farden,’ Durnus said, a hint of pride in his voice. He didn’t need his eyes to know the ship was a masterpiece, he’d run his hands over it enough, had every line and rivet described to him countless times. ‘She is the first in a long line of warships that we will build. The Arka need to rule the sea again. She is no Sarunn . Tyrfing and the shipsmiths have seen to that.’
    That she was not.
    The ship was a monster. In every angle the eye could take. Tall, long, and wide, it towered into the cloud-painted sky with deep red masts the colour of bleeding mahogany. It stretched along the wharf-side like a sleeping giant, barging the choppy, oily waters of the port aside with its swollen sides, bristling with circular shields of iron and arrow-slits. Yet despite its size, it looked as nimble as a pike, as though it had been forged, no, born , in the stormiest of seas. Stout, sharp, and deadly. It lounged in the waters like a smug king on his throne. Farden’s misgivings started to fade.
    The ship was stern-on to the city, nuzzling up against the fender-lined arc of the busy, rime-encrusted wharf. It had been invaded by big crates and yelling workmen. Farden slowly traversed its well-trodden planks, feeling drowned by the bustling bodies. Seagulls and rimelings filled the air above, whining and harassing each other in the meanwhile.
    The mage examined the tall flanks of the ship. They were made of stout oak beams, Hâlorn timber by the pale shade of it. Obsidian pitch seeped from where the joins overlapped. And there, as Durnus had said, the higher planks were clad in riveted iron, dull in colour but polished to an inch of its life. It glittered with sea spray.
    Farden waded through the crowds to the bow. There, splayed across an iron flank in white paint and steel letters, was the monster’s name: Waveblade . What a blade it was. The bow looked like it would slice rock in two, never mind the rolling waves. It arched out of the water like the curve of a Paraian scimitar. Every inch of that bow was clad in the same dull metal. Thick, riveted plates of iron. Barnacles dared to cling to a few of them, but they were swiftly being evicted by a gang of sailors dangling from ropes, brandishing chisels.
    At the very front of the Waveblade , just beneath the sharp bowsprit, a figurehead sprouted from the metal. She was a twisted mermaid, tail slapped against the iron. She held a huge broadsword aloft. Farden stared at her, half-expecting her gemstone eyes to stare right back. His eyes wandered down her naked body. Her tail and Siren-like scales had been painted a dark orange and sulphurous yellow, so perfect and bright that they too looked as if they would shiver into life at any moment. Her silver sword ran along the underside of the long bowsprit, like a spear aimed at the distant blue-green sea. Mermaids were vicious creatures. A fitting figurehead, for a warship like this.
    Farden reached out to touch the armoured bow. The iron was cold, even in the morning sun. It felt rough to the touch, despite its polish. Salt-bitten, but without the faintest hint of rust. Tyrfing had put something special into it, he