Read Online War of the Werelords by Curtis Jobling - Free Book Online

mooring.
    â€œWhat do we do?” growled Drew
.
    â€œ
We do what we came for,” snapped Vega. “We get the answers we need.”
    â€œSo we snatch one of these officers,” said Drew, his yellow eyes narrowing as he set his gaze upon the one with the bloody knife.
    â€œWe’re not fishing for sprats, Drew,” said Vega, pointing a sharp gray finger toward the forecastle where a hulking figure was busy tossing sailors down the steps in their direction. “That’s who I’m angling for: Sea Marshal Scorpio, high commander of the Bastian navy.”
    Vega strode across the decks, Drew close behind. The Shark’s rapier was out of its scabbard as they passed the gang of seamen who were swinging the lifeboat over the side. Without breaking his step, Vega whipped his blade to the side, striking the traitorous officer who had just murdered his shipmate. Drew followed the captain of the
Maelstrom,
shocked to see the growing patch of blood where the rapier had darted in and out of the mate’s exposed back. A few yards farther and Drew heard the heavy thump as the man joined his former friend’s body on the pitching deck.
    â€œSea Marshal Scorpio, as I live and breathe!” exclaimed Vega, projecting his voice over the din. “I had hoped we’d first meet under more clement circumstances. After all, it’s not often the commanders of rival fleets get the opportunity for a personal chin-wag, is it?”
    Drew got a good look at the captain of the
Bastian Empress
as Scorpio tossed another couple of men down the forecastle decks to block their path. He was a remarkably ugly man with a great, jutting underbite, his throat wobbling and ballooning as he bellowed commands. Scorpio’s face was pockmarked and puckered with boils. Already a series of spines and quills had emerged from his head and back, rattling with irritation as he thundered about the bridge. Taking hold of another of his companions, Scorpio screamed into his ear before hurling him down to the main deck, “Get into them, you dogs!”
    â€œNot quite the welcome I expected,” snapped the Sharklord, his monstrous mouth contorting into a terrible, jagged grin. “Bastian hospitality’s not what it was. The least I expected was you’d crack open a vintage bottle of wine!”
    â€œCease your prattling, Sharklord,” snapped Scorpio, alone on his forecastle now as the dozen men still loyal to him fanned out below, weapons raised in defense.
    â€œYou know you don’t need to die here today,” growled the Werewolf, coming to a halt beside Vega as the wooden floor juddered beneath their feet. A mighty
crack
sounded below, another huge timber buckling as the wounded ship continued to take on water.
    â€œYou’ll spare my life?” shouted Scorpio.
    â€œHe was talking to your men, my dear Sea Marshal,” replied Vega.
    â€œTake the lifeboats, by all means,” continued Drew, stepping past Vega and swinging his huge head from side to side, gaze leveled upon the fearful sailors. “Swim for shore, or surrender yourselves to us, but don’t die in the name of Scorpio.”
    â€œYou underestimate the loyalty of my crew,” sneered the Bastian commander as more quills emerged from his body with a flourish. “These are brave men of Bast! Any one of these is worth a dozen of your Lyssian mongrels, Wolf!”
    â€œI don’t question where they’re from, Scorpio, only where they’d like to die.”
    The Werewolf took another step and peeled his lips back. The Bastians got a good look at his enormous canines as they gnashed against one another, surrounded by daggerlike incisors that could rip flesh from the bone in a heartbeat. Moonbrand shimmered in his hand, its pale white glow casting a ghostly aura over the lycanthrope.
    â€œWhat’s it to be, boys?” growled the Wolf. “You want to die tonight? Or would you rather die in your