Page 40 of Ship of Smoke and Steel

Melos armor flares wildly around my leg, green energy forming a nearly solid shell that crackles and spits as it tries to keep the monster’s teeth from my flesh. But this isn’t like deflecting a sword cut or a brief blast of fire. It’s more like trying to hold up a building, and I give a full-throated scream as the magical energy flowing under my skin builds to an unbearable heat. Wisps of smoke rise from my leg where arcs of green lightning strobe across it.

I let the armor fail. I’m not sure it’s even a conscious decision, but I have no choice. In another few seconds, Melos power would sear my leg into ash and blackened bone. The hammerhead’s straining jaws close, and a new, exquisite agony blooms as needle teeth tear into my flesh. There’s a nauseating crack as the bone breaks, and blood bubbles through the monster’s clenched teeth.

Definitely not the best plan I’ve ever been a part of.

The hammerhead is still moving fast, turning back toward the others. I’m hanging on the front of its head, supported by my mangled leg and the blade driven into its nose. If I let go, then I’ll fall down and be crushed under the thing’s onrushing bulk. If I hang on, I’ll pass out from loss of blood. My vision is already going gray at the edges. So what now, Isoka?

Die, most likely.

I’m not eager to die. And more than that. If I die, I fail. If I die, Kuon Naga will do whatever he wants to Tori and everything I’ve worked for will be for nothing. If I die now, I never meant anything to anyone.

The rot with that. I’m not going to let that rotsucker win. Not like this.

I twist my head and spot Meroe and Berun. My voice is a strangled yell, twisted by pain.

“Get its mouth open!” I wave my free hand, blade humming as it parts the air. “You rotting little coward, just get this thing to open up!”

I’m not sure Berun understands, but Meroe does. She grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him, hard. His eyes are wide as saucers, but he brings his hands up, focusing his Tartak power. I see the wisps of pale blue energy hover around the hammerhead’s mouth, tentatively at first, then pushing harder as Meroe shakes Berun again.

The creature’s jaw levers open. I’m sure Berun wouldn’t be strong enough if it were bearing down, but he’s caught it by surprise, and in a few moments the thing is yawning wide. I purposely don’t look at my leg, catching only a sidelong glimpse of a mess of torn fabric and skin, painted liberally in crimson. Instead, I grab a tooth in my free hand and swing myself forward, into the hammerhead’s mouth.

This is, to put it mildly, completely insane.

The two black tongues writhe around me but don’t grab hold yet, the creature unsure what to make of this development. Pulling my leg free from where it’s still impaled on the hammerhead’s teeth hurts so much I nearly black out, but I cling to consciousness like grim death, crawling toward the back of the thing’s gullet. I plant my boot on the base of its tongue, and push upward, slamming both of my blades into the roof of its mouth. They cut through its palate and slice deep enough, I hope, to reach the brain.

This time, I managed to hit something. The hammerhead wobbles, slewing like a cart with a snapped axle. I stab again and again, ignoring the lash of its tongue against my waist. I feel it when the creature starts to roll, legs losing their coordination and going out from under it. It falls heavily and flips over, sending me crashing against the roof of its mouth, then flips again, ending up on its side. I lie curled inside the monster’s cheek, its tongues twitching and shaking against me, as it slides to a halt.

There follows one of those timeless moments that could be an instant or a thousand years. It’s dark, and warm, and smells of spoiled meat. My leg no longer hurts, but I can’t feel anything below my knee, which I suspect is a bad sign. In spite of the heat of the hammerhead’s bulk all around me, I feel cold, which probably has to do with the rate at which blood is leaving my body.

Now what, Isoka? Going to die now?

This admonition manages to get me wriggling forward. But the hammerhead’s mouth is almost fully closed, and the most I can do is put my hands on its teeth. Prying its jaws apart is beyond my strength, and I can’t even think of trying to resummon my blades.

Rot.

A shudder runs through the hammerhead. For a moment I think it’s going to get back up, and then its jaw levers open. Meroe is standing in the gap, breathing hard, arms trembling.

“Isoka!”

She reaches past the rows of needle teeth and grabs me under the arms. I scrabble weakly, trying to help her, but only push her off balance. She stumbles back, and I end up in her lap as she sits down heavily. I’m soaked with a mix of hammerhead blood and my own, my skin caked and sticky with the stuff, and Meroe frantically brushes it off my face.

“Isoka!” she says. “Hang on. I’m going to find a bandage.”

I almost laugh, because I need a hell of a lot more than a bandage. It comes out as a cough. Some ways off, I hear Berun shout, and Ahdron swearing in his own language.

“I have never seen something so crazy,” he says. “Is she all right?”

“Of course she’s not rotting all right!” Meroe shouts. “Get over here and help!”

“I—” Ahdron says.

Berun cuts him off. “It’s moving!”

There’s a crunch of twisting metal. I manage to raise my head.

The hammerhead’s dying tumble took it close to the edge of one of the holes in the deck, and Meroe and I are still lying beside it. We’re several yards away from the hole, but the deck beneath us is flaked and pitted with rust. The hammerhead, which had been lying still, begins to thrash, clear fluid spraying wildly from its mouth, legs twitching in uncoordinated spasms.

“Run,” I gasp at Meroe. She won’t let me go.