“You can’t go topside! The legionaries packed on those ships would put a dozen crossbow bolts in you as soon as we got close enough!”
“Then Asha will have to fit up here beside me.”
Mari called up. “I just told Dav what we’re facing. If Alain says we have a chance, then we have a chance. Do as he says. I’m going to go back to the aft ladder, ready to go out and shoot if we have to, or stop anyone who tries to come in.”
Alain moved as far to one side as he could, facing forward, as Asha wormed her way up beside him. The space available, slightly cramped for one person, was so tight that Asha had to press herself hard against him in order to fit and be able to look forward as well.
Despite their desperate situation, despite the robes shrouding both of them, Alain found himself becoming distracted.
Asha must have noticed. Her face was right next to his, but she could turn enough to eye him. Alain was familiar with the eye-rolls that Mari sometimes directed at him to accompany the one-word comment “Men,” but now Asha accomplished the remarkable feat of giving him a feminine eye-roll without moving her eyes or changing her expression. He was trying to figure out how she had done that when Asha said three words in the tone of a Mage addressing an acolyte. “Mage Alain. Focus.”
“Yes,” Alain said, directing all of his attention forward. “Here is what we must do. There are two heavy lines connecting each ship to the next. You see the place directly ahead where two ships are joined in such a way to block us. There is little power here, but I think enough that I can cause the illusion of one line to have a gap. Can you do the same to the other?”
Asha paused. “There is little power.” She looked ahead as well. “There are no Mages with the Imperials who might also draw on the power available and leave too little for us. This will exhaust us both. But I can cast the spell on one line as well.”
“Captain Banda, Mari,” Alain called out loudly enough for Mari to hear, “Mage Asha and I will cause the lines ahead of us to part just before we reach them. You will have a chance to ram us through between the two ships. But both Asha and myself will be exhausted by the effort and unable to do anything else.”
“Got it,” Mari called. “We’ll be ready to do any fighting. Dav! We’re going through! Be prepared to leave the boiler unattended for a few minutes if you need to help fight off any boarders. Give us a warning just before we hit, Captain!”
“Five minutes!” Banda yelled back. “If that! Give me all the power you can, Dav! We’re going to need all the speed and momentum we can manage!”
The Terror trembled like an eager steed as Banda advanced the throttle and steered toward the wall of ships. “The place is right ahead,” Banda said. “Where I’m aiming between the bow of that war galley and the stern of that merchant ship flying the flag of Marida.”
“Yes,” Alain said. “How well do you see the farther line, Asha?”
“I see it well. I will take the farther line.” Her soft voice, dispassionate and matter-of-fact, her breath on his face, were no longer distracting to Alain, but instead part of the illusion that he could disregard.
“I will take the closer line,” Alain said. “How will we act at the same time?”
“Say now just before you cast your spell,” Asha said, “and I will immediately cast mine.”
The wall of ships grew closer with dismaying speed, but they dared not slow down. They could see the masts of other ships being frantically moved by the Imperials to block the small gaps beyond the two ships like that the Terror was aiming for. Alain could see legionaries shouting, but heard nothing with the hatches closed and the boiler creature roaring inside the Terror.
The ballistas mounted on the galleys and along the river banks began firing, bolts flying toward the Terror. Alain heard thunks as some of the heavy bolts fell short and struck the Terror underwater, most of their force fortunately absorbed by the water. Two other bolts tore through the remnants of the driftwood camouflage, sending splinters and branches flying. Another hit the metal hull at a low angle, bouncing off with a clang that reverberated through the ship.
Alain tried to ignore all of that. Perhaps only a Mage could have done so, trained to be able to focus on a spell no matter what distractions were staged or physical blows inflicted. He was no longer aware of Asha pressed up against him, no longer noticed the ballistas firing on the Terror, did not really see the wave of crossbow bolts fired as the ship came within range of hand-held weapons or hear them strike like a thunderous rain on the metal, some sticking or penetrating the skin of the ship, one cracking the small window right beside Alain’s head. All of those things were only illusions. His attention remained centered on the illusion of a heavy line fastening a war galley to another ship, the slight curve of the line dipping down between them, the torches on the ships lighting up the top of the line. Illusion, all illusion. And he could change that illusion for a very brief time, overlaying the illusion of a gap on that line. Just a small gap, barely enough to see, but enough to momentarily leave the line in two pieces rather than one.
They were very close, the sides of the ships looming ahead.
“Now,” Alain breathed.
There was so little power to draw on, and Asha was drawing on it as well. Alain’s strength drained.
But it was enough. Bare moments before the Terror struck, the two lines suddenly fell slack between the Imperial ships, both cut clean in the center.
“Hang on!” Banda shouted.
The Terror hit the gap between the ships like a bull striking two sides of a heavy gate. Alain and Asha, still upright only because they were pinned in place, were jolted forward by the impact, barely aware of the sound of the crash filling the ship as tortured metal and hardwood protested the collision. If the lines had still been in place, the Terror would have been jerked to a halt as her hull, mostly underwater, slammed into the unyielding bow and stern of the ships ahead. But with the lines severed, the Terror was slowed but not stopped. Grating against the bow of the war galley and the rudder of the Maridan merchant ship, the Terror forced her way through the great barrier.
Alain, trying to maintain consciousness, heard thumps and felt the Terror jolt as they passed between the two ships. Through the small windows, he saw legionaries who had jumped from the ships onto their own craft.
The legionaries were trying to get footholds when the bow of another ship moving to block the gap thudded against the side of the Terror. Some of the legionaries were hurled off by the impact, but more jumped down from above as Banda maneuvered the Terror past the ship and headed into the harbor.
Alain saw a legionary scrambling for a hold and sliding off into the water as the Terror began gaining speed again.
Another got a purchase on the outside of the steering room, drawing a sword.
A third knelt, crossbow in hand, raising it to aim through the cracked window just beside Alain’s head.
The crash of Mechanic weapons sounded behind Alain. He saw the legionary with the crossbow jerk the weapon to point aft, but get jolted by the impacts of bullets before falling off the ship.
The thunder of gunshots kept on. Alain, his normally suppressed emotions further restrained by the haze of exhaustion, wondered how many legionaries had reached the deck of the Terror.
The legionary who had a handhold on the steering room was crouching, blocking Banda’s view forward as the legionary hid behind the structure. He swung the hilt of his sword against the nearest window, trying to break it so his sword could reach those inside.
Alain saw Mari appear outside the window closest to him, implacable and fierce, her pistol out and firing.
The last legionary gave a despairing cry and fell, sliding off the hull into the water.
“What’s wrong with my power?” Captain Banda shouted. “We’re losing steam pressure!”
Unable to supply an answer, Alain managed to twist his head enough to watch as Mari scrambled back to the aft hatch. He could not see Mechanic Dav, but finally s
potting him lying near the hatch, holding on to the ship as if that was all he could manage. Crossbow bolts were still falling in a deadly rain around the Terror, some striking the ship, as Mari grabbed Mechanic Dav and pulled him with her down the ladder.
“Asha!” Mari shouted from inside the ship. “I need you here to help Dav! He took a bolt in his hip! Get down here! I have to get to the boiler!”
Asha’s limp body stirred. “Dav,” she muttered, forcing herself away from Alain and down the ladder, moving clumsily and nearly falling. Alain saw her stumbling aft, one of the medical bags in her hand.
Mari needed him. Alain bent his entire will to recover, trying to clear mind and body of overwhelming fatigue just as Asha had. Captain Banda was steering the Terror between the ships and boats in the harbor beyond the barricade, his hands locked on the wheel. Alain looked back and saw that the barrier was a mass of confusion. The place where the Terror had punched through was marked by a widening gap as the barrier ships drifted apart in response to the impact. Soldiers and sailors worked to free them to chase after the Terror.
Off to his right, Alain saw a darker cloud against the night sky, lit beneath by sparks. He had seen that before. Where? Julesport. “There is a Mechanic ship,” he said to Banda. “On the right.”
Banda stole a glance in that direction. “The Queen. Mari! We need to call the Pride! The Guild is getting the Queen underway! They must have figured out what’s going on! If they can’t catch us, they’ll sink us to keep the Empire from getting those texts!”
“I have to run the boiler!” Mari shouted. “The shock of the collision rattled the boiler so badly it almost put out the fires!”
“I can handle the boiler,” Dav insisted, his voice thin and high with pain.
“Dav!” Asha protested.
“Ash…help me there.”
Alain breathed deeply, clearing his mind and looking around one more time. “There is a galley on the left. It is coming this way.”
“He’s behind our beam,” Banda said. “As long as the fires don’t go out in our boiler he won’t have a chance of catching us.” Banda spun the wheel and the Terror heeled wildly to one side as it tore past a harbor patrol craft. “Please don’t go out,” he muttered as if talking to the fires.
“I will help Mari,” Alain said. He heard water falling as he staggered partway down the ladder and saw leaks in the hull where crossbow bolts had penetrated or glancing blows by ballista bolts had bent and cracked the metal. There were other gaps, which must have opened when the Terror hit the Imperial ships. Whenever outside water washed across those spots an erratic rain fell inside the ship. That probably ought to worry him, Alain thought, seeing drops of water glance off the bag protecting one set of texts. But he was emotionally numb, too tired, too focused on helping Mari, to spare concern on something he could do nothing about.
Mari came running forward. “Are you all right?” she yelled at Alain as she fumbled with a control one-handed. A rough, rhythmic thumping sound began. “I started the bilge pump!” she called to Banda. “We’re taking on water! Alain, help me get the aft hatch open. I need to transmit from there.”
Alain fell more than descended the forward ladder and stumbled after Mari, wondering why droplets of a deep red showed on the deck plates. When he reached the aft ladder, Mari was leaning against it, breathing hard, her face drawn. Horrified out of his torpor, Alain saw blood dripping from her left hand and a big puddle of blood at her feet. “Mari!”
She gave him a strained look. “Most of this is Dav’s, but I’m having trouble with my left arm. Help me get the hatch open.”
Alain lunged past her, his fatigue momentarily vanquished. He climbed up enough to push the hatch open, then reached down and helped Mari up. She lay on the open deck, momentarily out of breath, while the Terror heeled again as Banda raced toward the harbor entrance.
He clamped one hand on the edge of the hatch and put the other arm around Mari to hold her. She managed a grateful smile for him before fumbling out her far-talker with a grimace of pain.
Inside the ship, the roar of the boiler had masked most other noises except for the sound of Mechanic devices like the pump. Out here on deck, Alain could hear the blare of Imperial trumpets, the clanging of alarm bells, and a low roar which was the sound of thousands of men and women on numerous ships and boats trying to catch the Terror before she could get away.
“Help me stand up,” Mari gasped. “I need better range.”
She was doing what she must despite her fears. He could do no less. Alain got to his knees, still holding on to the hatch, and helped Mari stand, his other hand now locked on her belt as she stood next to him. Mari used her good hand to hold the far-talker. Her left arm hung useless, droplets of blood still falling to mingle with the harbor water puddling on the deck.
He heard the crash of Mechanic weapons in the distance followed by the snap of bullets flying past. Looking toward the sound, Alain saw a familiar shape silhouetted against the lights of Landfall. “It is the ship that once captured us,” he warned Mari. Bright flares of light sparkled along its deck. He had learned what that meant. “There are Mechanics on it shooting at us.”
“Let’s hope they don’t use the deck gun.”
Alain heard a loud crash and the shriek of a shell, followed by a fountain of water rising not far from the Terror.
“Never mind.” Mari caught her breath, then began speaking slowly and clearly into the far-talker, her voice an odd oasis of calm in the chaos of the harbor. “Pride, this is the Terror. Pride, this is the Terror.”
The ship shuddered under Alain. He heard Dav cursing at the boiler. They surged ahead again as sparks and a gout of smoke billowed from the short stack behind him.
A high-pitched ping sounded as a Mechanic bullet bounced off the ship next to Alain’s foot. He heard another huge boom, another shriek of a shell, then watched the shell burst in the wake of the Terror. The ship changed course abruptly and he held onto Mari as she staggered on the deck.
Something tugged at the sleeve of Alain’s robe. He looked at it, seeing a ragged hole where a Mechanic bullet had just punched through, passing between him and Mari. That probably would have frightened him if he had been able to spare the energy or the attention to think about such things.
Mari kept speaking into her far-talker, as calmly as if she were a Mage, totally focused on her task. “Pride, this is the Terror. Pride, this is the Terror.”
They had gotten far enough away from the Mechanic ship that no more bullets were coming close, but the deck gun banged again and another fountain of water rose, near enough to Alain for him to feel mist wash across him.
“Pride, this is the Terror. Pride, this is the Terror.”
“Terror, this is the Pride!”
He felt Mari tremble as the reply came in, but her voice remained steady. “Pride, we’re approaching the harbor entrance,” Mari called. “The Guild ship Queen of the Seas is getting underway to chase us. We’ve suffered damage. Over.”
“Understand you are approaching the harbor entrance. We’re on our way. Over.”
“Mission successful!” Mari said. “Do you understand? We have what we came for. We need help as soon as possible. Over.”
“Understood. Coming at best speed. Out.”
Mari sagged to her knees next to Alain, breathing hard. “What am I forgetting?” she asked in a raspy voice, putting away the far-talker as another shell from the Queen tore into the water behind them. The Terror heeled again, water washing across the deck. “The stack. We have to raise the stack before we get out into open water. Help me, Alain.”
He had to let go of the hatch, helping Mari farther aft to where the stub of the stack poked up. Very hot air was erupting from the stack. “Here,” Mari said, shaking her head as if dizzy. She pointed with her right hand. “We need to unfasten that. Alain, please. It takes two hands. I can’t. Please figure out how to do that!”
He looked at the Mechanic equipment helplessly before
an idea came to him. “One of my hands and one of yours,” Alain said.
“Yes!” Mari laid down on the deck, reaching, placing Alain’s hand on something she told him to press, while she shoved something else with her own hand. “That’s got it. Let’s get it raised. Blast!” She slid to one side as the Terror swerved again, Alain catching her before she slid off into the harbor. “Like this. Up. Yes. See, it just pivots on the hinge. No problem. Up. All the way.”
Alain helped push the higher stack up, seeing one end of it fall onto the shorter one. He felt the higher stack almost immediately grow warm, then hot, from the air coming from the boiler creature.
He held Mari from sliding again as she used her good hand to flip closed some objects that fixed the tall stack in place. “Got it. Let’s get inside.”
The distance back to the hatch was fairly short, but it seemed incredibly far away. At least the line of sight had been blocked by other vessels and the Mechanic ship’s deck gun was no longer firing at them. Once again Alain blocked out distractions, focusing on their path and keeping one hand on Mari. Reaching the hatch, he helped her down the ladder, then crawled in and pulled the hatch shut.
Mari dropped to the deck, landing in the puddle of blood Dav had left. She fell to her knees. “Alain…help…me up. No, check…Dav.”
“Your arm—" Alain began, seeing her through a haze of exhaustion.
She waved him off. “Check Dav.”
Alain staggered back to where the heat of the boiler made sweat spring onto his skin. Mechanic Dav half lay, half sat on the seat near the boiler, eyes on the controls, his face a mask of pain and determination. Asha knelt beside him, bracing him in place and holding a blood-soaked bandage tightly over his hip. Only another Mage could have seen the fear with which she watched him. “We’re all right,” Dav said, his voice quavering with agony and barely audible above the roar of the boiler. “How’s Mari?”
“All right,” Alain said. Asha, catching the anxiety behind Alain’s words, spared him a concerned look before centering her attention back on Dav.
The Servants of the Storm Page 29