Lich for Hire

Harpies were fearsome creatures, female in form and face, but with wings for arms and eagle talons for legs.

Unofficial histories offered two accounts of their origin. In the first, an elven girl happened to catch a glimpse of the god-king Choralan's face and could never forget it. She waited in the forest for him to appear again, without success even to her dying day. Her longing and grief transformed her into the first harpy after death.

The second version was more colorful: Choralan had begun a romance and then abandoned her. The elf's resulting bitterness had twisted her into a monster.

Ambrose didn't put much stock in the second version.

Consider, for instance, Mystrix, who was intimate with a devotee once and then never again.

Could that be considered abandonment? No—that was a divine blessing.

It counted as a blessing even though Mystrix wasn't renowned for her beauty. Choralan, by contrast, was said to be the most beautiful being in existence. One look at Catherine made the difference clear, and her appeal at full force was probably still a pale shadow of Choralan's.

If a god of that caliber spent a night with you, you would have struck fortune beyond what most mortals could imagine in several lifetimes. Accusing him of leading someone on seemed like an overreach, under the circumstances.

So the first narrative was almost certainly correct. An elven girl fell into hopeless infatuation with a god, never had her feelings acknowledged, and became a monster.

This also explained what made harpies dangerous: their pathological resentment expressed itself as a song that stripped men of their reason and left them in a stupor while the harpies ate them.

Directly ahead of the Blacktide was the face of a cliff that was home to a large harpy colony.

It was a timely coincidence, and an excellent opportunity for a test of the Blacktide's weapons.

"Approach at low speed. Let them make the first move."

On Ambrose's order, the Blacktide slowed and drifted toward the colony in a taunting manner.

The mass of the Blacktide drew them out immediately. A dense swarm rose into the air: at least a hundred harpies together.

Harpies were not particularly intelligent, and the enormous unfamiliar object didn't register as something to be afraid of. It was in their territory; that was enough. They came flapping toward it.

Several had already begun to sing, pouring their charm into the melody.

Ordinary prey would have frozen in place to be taken. Against the undead, it accomplished precisely nothing.

The harpies landed on the hull and raked their talons across the armor. Sparks flew, leaving a scattering of scratches and nothing more.

Ambrose looked at the mercury puddle that constituted Husky. "Go try out the magitech cannons."

Husky had been a ranger in life, and the transition to an undead hadn't cost him his marksmanship.

He had previously used a sniper rifle. A magitech cannon was, in principle, the same weapon at a different scale.

Husky flowed excitedly into the weapon bay and spread several silver tentacles across the operator's panel.

A section of armor on the Blacktide's flank slid open, revealing a massive cannon barrel.

With a loud boom, two harpies dissolved into a red mist.

Husky burbled in excitement.

Sniper rifles could only pierce a hole through a target. Where was the fun in that? Magitech cannons, on the other hand, disintegrated their targets whole.

He switched to scattershot. One round sent a dozen harpies tumbling from the sky in sprays of blood.

He switched to bone-proliferation rounds. One shot produced several blooming structures of white bone coral, expanding outward as the infected tissue calcified.

Husky was having the time of his undead life. The harpies scattered in every direction. Gun ports opened along both flanks of the Blacktide. Volley after volley shredded the flock of harpies.

The Blacktide ran on more than a single soul. Ambrose had installed custom-built artificial souls along every major section of the hull.

The outermost layer was purely mechanical, but all the gears within were undead in nature. Despite carrying only fifteen passengers, the Blacktide housed over six hundred artificial souls. The primary soul handled command; the rest handled execution.

The weapons were, apparently, quite accurate.

Milena watched with barely contained excitement. "Father, I want a turn!"

Ambrose handed her a different controller. "This one's more interesting."

Milena pressed the switch. A drone rose from the Blacktide's deck.

It was considerably larger than his earlier designs—roughly two meters long, with a wingspan of about one and a half meters. It carried two miniature magitech cannons that could automatically switch between shells and five alchemical bombs for low-altitude strike deployment. It boasted a top speed of Mach 1 and featured exceptional maneuverability.

Ambrose had designed the Blacktide without regard to cost, and had equipped it with everything he could think of.

Milena took the controls and went hunting. Her combat instincts were genuinely impressive. She had the drone's attack patterns worked out in short order and was picking harpies out of the sky with ease.

Bear watched from beside her and couldn't keep the envy out of his voice. "Master, can I have a turn too?"

Ambrose smiled. "I've set something aside for you. Follow me."

Bear followed him to a smaller compartment. Several sets of unusual armor hung along the walls.

Ambrose gestured to each in turn. "This is Assault, this is Aegis, and this is Thunderstrike. Take your pick."

Bear chose the Assault armor without hesitation. The name alone was enough for his sensibilities.

The moment he touched it, the components detached from the wall one by one and fitted themselves to his mechanical frame.

"Sustained Flight, Thunder Wave and Frost Rays, an extended two-handed blade, and shoulder-mounted magitech cannons: that's the Assault loadout. The armor's solid. Don't be shy about charging in."

As Ambrose finished the briefing, the floor hatch beneath Bear opened up.

The large metal figure dropped toward the ground. For a long moment, it looked as if Bear were about to crash into the ground. Then he finally figured out the controls. Flight kicked in, the jetpack roared with thrust, and Bear launched himself toward the remaining harpies.

Most of them had already been dealt with. He had to move quickly before there were none left.

Bear crashed into what remained of the flock, longsword swinging, cutting harpies down one by one. The shoulder cannons opened fire as well. His aim left something to be desired at close range, and he missed more than a few shots, but even so, he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Once the last harpy was down, everyone returned to the helm, quietly hoping for more targets.

Ambrose was very satisfied as well. The Blacktide still had several systems he hadn't activated during the engagement.

This warship was more than capable of deciding the outcome of a battle.