The Bone Ship marched.

  It was a staggering, thirty-foot-tall cathedral of bleached bone and black sinew, moving with a rhythmic, seismic thud-clack, thud-clack across the vitrified trench of the God’s Wake.

  The main deck was a marvel of Ratling timber and Gnome engineering, bolted directly into the marrow of the inverted ribs. It spanned the width of the ribcage, creating a flat, sturdy battlefield thirty feet in the air. From this deck rose three distinct siege towers built of dense, heavy pine. Two flanked the front, anchored just above the massive shoulder blades to provide a vanguard view, while the third sat near the tail, serving as a high rear-guard nest.

  Mounted along the reinforced edges of the deck sat the Ratling prize: four Husk-Buster cannons. Their squat, cast-iron barrels jutted out between the ribs like the teeth of a bulldog. Beside each cannon sat heavy wooden hoppers, filled to the brim with explosive red-tipped harpoons and waxed charges of black powder, ready to shatter anything that dared approach.

  From his perch on the right tower, Trenn felt every footfall. He was plugged into the undead construct, his Mana Radiation filtering through the cold, discordant pitch of the Necrosis Element. It imposed a mental strain, but the giant skeleton obeyed his will, carving a straight line toward the hazy horizon.

  Behind him, the heavy timber deck Ezy had designed groaned in the wind. The massive, inverted ribs curled upward like the hull of a capsized galleon, serving as natural roll-bars and vantage points.

  Sitting on the back tower, near the Gem-Croc skeleton’s tail, Zeen adjusted the leather strap of Almitad’s skull.

  The gnome closed his left eye. Through the hollowed-out socket of the One-Eye amulet, the dull grey world vanished. His vision plunged into a high-contrast void of deep shadow, illuminated only by heat and life-force, rendered in stark violet.

  He scanned the dark horizon.

  Suddenly, a cluster of black stars flared in the distance. They were moving incredibly fast, bouncing over the molten glass of the trench. They weren't the erratic pulses of animals; they were steady, burning cores of contained combustion.

  "Thunder on the horizon," Zeen said. His voice was no longer his own; it echoed within the empty brainpan of the death mask, emerging as a hollow, resonant rattle. "Ten... twenty... thirty targets. Burning bright. Approaching fast."

  Trenn opened his eyes. He couldn't see them yet. He concentrated—there was a distant sound, like the rumble of combustion engines.

  The revving of engines. The spray of gravel.

  "Tribane’s Riders," Vavnaar growled, stepping to the edge of the bone deck. He drew Silver Flash, the enchanted blade humming hungrily in the damp air. "The Ratlings sold us out, and the Alpha sent his cavalry."

  The swarm materialized on the horizon.

  Dozens of Wolf Kin leaned low over the handlebars of crude, heavy-treaded motorcycles. They rode in a V-formation, tearing across the Red God's glassy wake, flintlock rifles holstered on their front forks, grappling hooks swinging from their saddlebags.

  "Battle stations!" Mara roared.

  The Crusher’s hydraulic legs hissed as she shifted the machine's immense weight. She drove the suit’s spiked feet into the timber deck, then slammed the control levers outward. The Crusher’s massive hydraulic fists shot left and right. The twin flintlock rifles mounted on the Crusher’s forearms leveled at the approaching swarm.

  "Range!" Ezy yelled.

  "Three hundred yards and closing!" Zeen called out from the skull mask.

  Ezy squeezed the triggers. CRACK-OW! CRACK-OW!

  The heavy lead slugs tore through the air. One rider's front tire exploded, spraying rubber and spokes; the motorcycle flipped violently, launching the Wolf Kin into the air to ragdoll across the vitrified glass.

  Brass casings ejected from the Crusher’s forearms, falling thirty feet through the hollow ribcage to ping off the ground below.

  The riders kept their tight V-formation, accelerating straight down the trench.

  "They're bunched up!" Trenn roared.

  He stepped up to the Husk-Buster bolted to the edge of his vanguard tower and grabbed the cannon’s heavy cast-iron breech. Bracing his golden tail against the deck for leverage, he hauled the squat barrel level, tracking the center of the charging pack. He locked his aim and pulled the heavy firing lever.

  The cannon detonated with a deafening BOOM that shook the entire skeletal galleon. A red-tipped explosive harpoon tore across the trench, striking the V-formation dead-center. It pierced a motorcycle's engine block before the percussion cap triggered, blowing apart in a massive fireball of shrapnel and black powder.

  Five motorcycles were instantly vaporized, sending their riders tumbling through the thick smoke in pieces.

  Forced to adapt to the artillery, the surviving riders’ V-formation shattered into a chaotic, weaving swarm. They crisscrossed over the vitrified rock, using the uneven, melted terrain as ramps to vault their heavy bikes and throw off the Bone Ship’s gunners.

  Mara stood at the port-side railing, her amber eyes tracking the erratic movements. She drew her bow, muscles bunching beneath her black chitin armor, and released.

  The arrow streaked down, but the targeted rider slammed his brakes, drifting his bike sideways in a cloud of glass dust. The arrow sparked harmlessly on the rock.

  "Too fast!" Mara hissed, instantly nocking another shaft.

  Beside her, Janaree’s semi-automatic pistols barked a deafening rhythm, lead slugs pinging off handlebars and tearing through leather cuirasses.

  Mara tracked a rider accelerating up a glassy dune. She aimed for the apex of his jump. She loosed. The obsidian-tipped arrow punched straight through the Wolf Kin’s shoulder mid-air. He shrieked, his grip failing. The bike landed hard, bucking him over the handlebars to tumble violently across the jagged trench.

  "They're scattering!" Zeen shouted. He stood up, bracing his boots against the vertebrae, and racked the slide of his clockwork musket. He tracked a group of riders splitting to the right flank and fired.

  A cone of burning ash and kinetic force erupted from the ivory stock, washing over three motorcycles. The riders shrieked as the embers caught their fur and ignited their saddlebags.

  But there were too many. The swarm absorbed the losses, engines roaring as they flanked the massive, striding skeleton.

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  "Boarding hooks!" Vavnaar barked.

  Iron grapnels sailed through the air. They clattered against the white bone, the prongs catching on the inverted ribs and the massive teeth of the Gem-Croc’s skull. The thick hemp ropes snapped taut as the riders anchored them to their bikes, using their momentum to haul themselves up the lines.

  Vavnaar erupted into action on the deck. The braided lines snapped rigid against the bone railings. The massive Wolf Kin charged. Silver Flash hummed—a ribbon of lethal light.

  One fluid spin. Three ropes severed.

  The sudden slack whipped the lines over the side. The climbers vanished into the mist below with a fading scream.

  Ezy’s hydraulic arms tracked and fired, her heavy slugs punching through engine blocks. Zeen’s musket roared from the rear tower, washing the ground in kinetic fire, while Mara’s arrows pinned riders to their own black liquid tanks. The teamwork was a meat grinder, but the sheer volume of the swarm meant new hooks replaced the severed ones seconds later.

  Mara sprinted to the starboard ribs. A Wolf Kin vaulted over the bone railing, a curved cutlass raised high.

  She dropped her bow. The jagged raptor-talons slotted perfectly between her knuckles. She ducked the wild swing, letting her black Husk armor absorb the glancing blow, and drove her fist upward.

  The bone-knuckles caught the rider under the jaw. Flesh tore. Bone shattered. The Wolf Kin flipped backward over the railing, dead before he hit the ground.

  In the center of the deck, Wutren and Janaree stood back-to-back. The three pups—Yetran, Arenlys, and the tan one—cowered between their legs.

  "Hold the line!" Wutren bellowed, thrusting his spear through the ribs to impale a climber. Janaree’s semi-automatic pistols cracked in a deafening rhythm, blowing a rider off a rope before he could reach the deck.

  Vavnaar paced the edge of the bone, his yellow eyes tracking the chaotic swarm below. Ezy, Janaree, and Zeen were suppressing the stragglers, but the bikes weaving between the giant skeleton's legs were too fast, throwing fresh ropes every second.

  Without another word, the seven-foot Wolf Kin Alpha vaulted over the bone railing.

  He plummeted like a furred meteor. He pivoted his body mid-air, driving Silver Flash downward.

  A rider looked up, his eyes widening as the massive shadow eclipsed the sun. There was no time to scream.

  The humming blade cleaved through the top of the Wolf Kin's skull, bisected his torso, and bit clean through the motorcycle's black liquid tank and engine block. The bike exploded outward into two distinct halves, showering the trench in sparks and fuel.

  Vavnaar absorbed the bone-shattering impact by rolling through the wreckage, his heavy boots finding the vitrified ground, rising smoothly from the carnage without losing a fraction of his momentum.

  Two riders veered toward him, drawing swinging flails as they gained on his position.

  Silver Flash hummed as he swung it in a brutal, horizontal arc. The enchanted blade sheared cleanly through the front wheel, the engine block, and the rider of the first bike.

  The second rider saw the horizontal swing and leaned hard, drifting his bike just under the humming arc of the greatsword. The rider lashed out with a spiked flail as he zoomed past, but the iron ball merely sparked against Vavnaar’s heavy pauldron, glancing off harmlessly. The Wolf Kin rider didn't look back as he accelerated away.

  Before Vavnaar could reset his stance, the roar of an engine surged from his blind spot. A third rider was barreling directly toward his exposed back, a leveled spear ready to skewer him.

  From thirty feet above, a massive CRACK-OW echoed.

  Ezy’s forearm rifle smoked. Center mass.

  The heavy slug blew the rider clean out of the saddle. His dead weight tumbled away into the dust, leaving a ghost-riding machine spinning wildly toward Vavnaar's exposed back.

  The Alpha pivoted and stomped his heavy, armored boot down on the front tire. The tumbling machine screeched, shuddered, and slammed down onto its side, engine still roaring. Vavnaar hauled it upright by the handlebars and swung his massive leg over the leather seat.

  He twisted the throttle until the engine shrieked, kicking up a rooster tail of pulverized glass as he tore off alongside the striding Bone Ship. The wind whipped his fur back, his yellow eyes locked on the swarm attempting to foul the giant skeleton's ankles.

  He pulled his bike parallel to a pair of riders preparing to throw their grapnels. Vavnaar swung Silver Flash one-handed, the long blade effortlessly lopping the head off the nearest rider. He immediately squeezed his front brake, letting the second rider pull ahead, then thrust the sword forward to impale the Wolf Kin through the spine. He kicked the dying rider off the bike, weaving gracefully through the tumbling wreckage to guard the massive white bone-legs of his dead god.

  Despite Vavnaar’s butchery on the ground, the Bone Ship was drowning.

  From Trenn’s vantage point on the shoulder blade, the giant skeleton looked less like a siege engine and more like a dying beast caught in a monstrous web. Dozens of thick hemp cables angled down from the jagged, inverted ribs, trailing into the swirling mist of the trench. The ropes thrummed taut, humming with the collective weight of the ascending swarm.

  Wolf Kin poured over the bone railings like starving insects. They scrambled up the black necrotic sinews and white bone with frantic, feral desperation, cutlasses clenched in their teeth and heavy pistols drawn.

  The main timber deck became a claustrophobic meat grinder. The pristine white bone of the Gem-Croc’s ribs was already smeared with streaks of crimson and black powder soot.

  Mara was a whirlwind of black chitin, her raptor-bone knuckles crushing jaws and sternums, but the sheer mathematics of the swarm were against her. For every rider she hurled back into the void, two more vaulted the railing, driving her step-by-step away from the starboard edge.

  Ezy’s Crusher was overheating, its hydraulic joints screaming in protest. A trio of boarders vaulted the ribcage and landed directly on the machine's Red Metal chassis. One jammed a pry-bar into the knee joint, trying to hobble it, while another hacked frantically at her reinforced canopy with a heavy boarding axe. The impacts rang like a death knell inside the cockpit. Ezy spun the torso, violently bucking one rider off, but her forearm rifles clicked—the hoppers were empty.

  Trenn tracked the center of the timber deck where Janaree holstered her smoking pistols and pivoted to the starboard Husk-Buster. She gripped the firing lever and pulled. The iron barrel bucked.

  The harpoon streaked toward the ground, striking a flanking motorcycle. The percussion cap detonated. A fireball engulfed three adjacent bikes, turning machines and riders into flying shrapnel.

  "Reload!" Janaree roared, plunging her hands into the wooden hopper for a fresh munition.

  Wutren impaled a boarder cresting the bone railing. He kicked the dying warrior away. A grazing shot had shattered his pauldron, and dark blood matted the grey fur of his shoulder.

  "Too long!" the elder bellowed over the mechanical roar.

  Janaree abandoned the cumbersome artillery. She pulled her hunting knives from her belt to fight back-to-back with Wutren in a shrinking circle to protect the terrified pups cowering at their feet.

  Up on the right vanguard tower, Trenn snatched Skate from his crown. The slime solidified into a dense carbonado sphere. He tossed the mass upward, pivoted his hips, and swung the God-Bone club.

  THWACK.

  The ivory weapon launched the projectile. It crushed the first rider's breastplate, caving the metal inward. The collision deflected the sphere into a timber mast, redirecting its path into a second boarder's jaw. The two Wolf Kin crumpled, tumbling over the bone railing.

  Depleted of momentum, the heavy black stone plummeted towards the ground.

  A blur of pink and yellow intercepted the drop. Bomber dove over the falling rock, its six legs wrapping around the obsidian surface. The Giant Moth’s wings strained, beating a frantic rhythm.

  From the rear tower, Zeen’s musket roared, but the kinetic ash only stalled the inevitable. The heavy timber deck groaned under the shifting, chaotic weight of too many bodies. The air grew thick and suffocating with the stench of wet fur, hot iron, and spilled blood.

  Despite his efforts, the Bone Ship was sinking, overrun, and bleeding out in the mist.

  On the shoulder blade, Trenn’s lungs burned. His muscles trembled from the kinetic shock of the club. A heavy iron grappling hook clanged against the platform just inches from his boot, its prongs biting deep into the bone.

  A massive Wolf Kin rider hauled himself over the ridge, leveling a short-barreled scattergun directly at Trenn’s chest.

  Trenn froze. He was out of breath, his club lowered, his body completely exposed. Panic, raw and unfiltered, spiked in his blood. His human survival instinct screamed, and deep in his marrow, the dormant soul of the Gem-Croc answered.

  MINE.

  Gold flared beneath his flesh. A molten tide of interlocking plates tore outward through his pores. His clothes were shredded into confetti as a gilded carapace violently expanded over his chest and arms.

  Raw emeralds and rubies extruded between the scales as they raced up his throat, swallowing his jaw. A stylized crocodilian helm snapped shut over his face with the finality of a steel vault.

  In the darkness of the metal skull, twin infernos of black-green fire ignited. The Gem-Croc Kin had awakened.

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