The incantation reached its climax, and the elf thrust a rigid finger out toward the underside of the deathspider. A beam of harsh green light lashed out from his fingertip and struck the deathspider in the middle of the thin "neck" connecting the head with the abdomen. Where the beam struck, the crystal of the hull exploded into dust. The dull red light within the spidership shone out through a ragged-edged hole in the hull. The great black ship groaned, as though in torment.
"Down a-port!" Aelfred yelled again. There was no response; the Probe's course didn't change. "Down a-port!" the first mate repeated. "What the hell's going on… ?"
The mind flayer's mental voice cut him off. The helm is down. Vila, is unconscious.
Aelfred's answer was a warrior's curse.
Vallus faced the first mate calmly. "Shall I… ?"
"No!" Aelfred fought his anger under control again. "No," he repeated, more calmly. "We'll need you on deck before long." He thought for a moment, then smiled. "Get that gnome-Saliman, is that his name? Get him on the helm, then get back up here fast, got it?"
The elf nodded his understanding and ran for the ladder to the main deck. Aelfred looked up at the deathspider, still passing by above his head. His expression was grim.
Well it should be, Teldin realized. Liono had counseled against getting into the spidership's rear arc, and that's just where they were going to end up. There was nothing they could do about it, until the gnomish cleric took the helm and got the hammership under control.
The deathspider was almost past. "Take cover!" Aelfred roared.
Teldin looked around him. There was little enough cover here in the turret. He felt a tug on his arm. It was Dana. "Down here," she urged, pointing to the ruins of the ballista. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. They crouched beneath the smashed weapon, taking what little shelter they could. Teldin glanced up.
The deathspider had passed. Through a gap in the underside of the abdomen he saw what looked like a series of small catapults. Figures moved around the weapons, silhouettes against the dim red light within the vessel. Most looked vaguely human, but some were misshapen figures out of nightmares. As one, the multiple catapults fired. Teldin forced his body backward, pressing himself as close to the ballista's swivel mount as possible.
Not a moment too soon. There was a hiss, like sudden, heavy rain or hail, but this hail wasn't frozen water. A momentary deluge of small projectiles lashed against the deck: pebbles, scraps of metal, iron spikes, even some things that looked like fragments of shattered bone.
The rain of missiles lasted for only an instant, then there was silence, then the screaming began, cries of agony from all over the vessel. Teldin looked over at Dana. She appeared unharmed, but the other ballista crewman had tried to hide against the forward wall of the turret and hadn't been so lucky. His gray jerkin was already turning the color of burgundy, as he clutched uncomprehendingly at two jagged rips in his chest. His mouth worked silently as he turned pleading eyes on Teldin. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.
There's nothing I can do. The words echoed inside Teldin's mind. I know nothing of medicine. There's nothing I can do for you. He wanted to shout it out loud, but his throat was tight with horror.
Dana squeezed his arm, almost painfully. "I'll see what I can do," she told him. "Others may need help elsewhere."
He took a deep breath, forcing himself back under control, and nodded. He climbed from the turret to the forecastle deck.
The group of officers hadn't fared badly, and injuries seemed minor. Aelfred had a deep cut on his brow and was forced to keep wiping blood from his eyes. Estriss oozed silvery-white plasma from half a dozen minor nicks, while Bubbo paid absolutely no attention to a gash in his right arm that would have incapacitated any other man.
Things were considerably worse elsewhere. Of the crew on the main deck, perhaps one quarter were down-either disabled or dead-and most of the rest were injured in one way or another.
Aelfred cursed viciously. "If they keep pounding us with that jettison, we're dead."
Liono shook his head. "I don't think that's their plan," he said quietly.
All heads turned to observe the deathspider. The huge vessel had slowed down and was maneuvering. Ponderously but unmistakably, it was coming about. The stern, with its deadly jetsam-and, presumably, other heavy weapons-was swinging away. The three remaining legs of the grappling ram opened slowly.
"They're coming back to grapple," Aelfred muttered. "Why? Until the helm's up again, we're helpless. They can pound us to space dust."
Liono shrugged. "Slave hunt?" he proposed. "Or maybe they think we'll get away if they don't take us now."
Vallus reappeared up the ladder from the main deck. As always, the elf looked totally unruffled.
"Is the gnome on the helm?" Aelfred asked him.
"He's on it, but it will take time for him to gain control of it." The elf smiled gently. "He claims it's different from-and inferior to-the gnomish helms he's used to."
"Damn. How long?"
Vallus shrugged. "Minutes."
"Too long," the warrior pronounced. The deathspider had completed its turn and was moving slowly back toward the Probe. The hammership was now broadside-on, presenting its starboard side to the neogi vessel. "Can we maneuver at all?" Nobody answered, and that was answer enough. "Stand by to repel boarders."
The first mate's quiet order was relayed throughout the ship. Crewmen who'd been on damage control duty below flooded out onto the decks. Everywhere around him Teldin saw men and women-those who could still move-readying their weapons, preparing to fight and perhaps die. For his own part, Teldin was surprised to feel very little fear. Oh, certainly his stomach churned sickly, and he felt pricks of cold sweat on his brow, but now that the doubt and the waiting was coming to an end, now that battle was certain, he felt none of the incapacitating terror he'd expected at facing neogi again. He'd do what he could; what more could be expected of any man?
Can we take them? Teldin felt the words in his mind, but he knew Estriss had directed the question at Aelfred.
The burly warrior shrugged. "It'll be close," he said. "Neogi ships are manned by slaves, and slaves never fight as well as a free crew. If it looks like the monsters are on the losing end, some of the slaves will probably turn on them. Even without that…" His practiced eyes flicked about, coolly evaluating the tactical situation. "When they grapple, they've got to come over the bow. That's narrow, less than thirty feet, which means they can't send too many at once. We can pack everyone along the starboard rail and kill 'em as they try to come aboard. If we're lucky…" He paused, then turned to Vallus. "Have you got anything left that can get us out of the ram?"
The mage nodded. "I have another disintegrate spell."
"When the gnome's got the helm up, use it," Aelfred told him. "Until then, do whatever you can do to make trouble for them. And keep an eye on their forward ballistae. If they've got someone with brains commanding the crews, they'll be trying to take out anyone throwing spells."
Vallus nodded again. "Leave it to me," he said calmly.
The deathspider loomed closer, the three remaining legs of the grappling ram beginning to close. Teldin could see the weapons deck in the upper arc of the ship's abdomen. There was a milling crowd there, packed around the twin ballistae, at least fifty strong. The vast majority were human, but here and there massive, misshapen figures loomed above the pack. Teldin recognized them as umber hulks and knew just how dangerous they were. Some bowmen among the Probe's crew were already firing arrows into the massed enemy, trying to thin out their numbers before the fighting began in earnest. Surprisingly, no missiles had yet struck the hammership.
Twenty yards. The deathspider's three remaining grappling legs already extended past the Probe-two above, one below. Crewmen were casting fearful glances at the thin but strong shafts that hung over their heads. To Teldin it looked as though the hammership were already in their grasp. There seemed no way that the v
essel could escape, no matter what Vallus thought to the contrary.
Fifty yards. Teldin could see through the central port of the deathspider's head, into the red-lit interior of the great ship's bridge. Silhouettes moved against the light, repulsive shapes that brought back horrible memories from the past weeks. The vessel's neogi masters were watching the final moments of the hammership's capture. Fifteen yards.
With a grinding crash, the Probe's hull struck against the lower of the three grappling legs. Even with the slow rate of approach, the impact was severe, and Teldin kept his feet only with difficulty. The upper two legs started to move, to lower. They moved slowly but inexorably. With a rending of wood, one crushed the starboard rail just aft of the cargo hatch. The second struck the Probe five feet aft of the stern turret. The aftmost fin on the starboard side crumpled as though it were made of paper and balsa wood. The movement of the legs stopped. They seemed unable to exert enough pressure to crush, or even seriously damage, the hammership's reinforced hull, but they served their purpose nonetheless. The Probe was immobilized.
Sylvie hurried up the ladder from the main deck to join the other officers on the forecastle. Aelfred shot her an angry look. "Your station's below," he snapped.
The slender woman shrugged. "I don't think navigation's much of an issue at the moment," she said dryly. "I can be more use up here."
Aelfred hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Go to it," he told them.
Sylvie flashed him one of her momentary smiles. "I intend to." She drew a tiny object from the pouch on her belt. To Teldin it looked like a flat crystal of glasslike material. She then pulled out what looked like a small piece of animal fur. Mumbling fluid syllables under her breath, she rubbed the two gently together. Again Teldin felt the power she wielded grow in the air around her. She hissed the final words of the incantation through clenched teeth. Unlike Vallus's spell, there was no pyrotechnic display. Instead, the spidership's central bow port burst asunder, sending shards of crystal flying in all directions. Teldin heard inhuman shrieks of pain and alarm from within the enemy ship's bridge, and he felt his lips draw back from his teeth in a feral grin. "Hurt them!" he heard his own voice scream.
As if the bursting port had been the signal, the attack began in earnest. Arrows and crossbow bolts rained down on the hammership's deck as the slave bowmen fired their first salvo. The majority of the Probe's crew was under some kind of cover, however-crouched below the starboard gunwale, or concealed behind the ship's small longboat-and casualties were light. The hammership's crew returned fire, with much greater effect, into the massed attackers.
With a hissing roar, something hurtled by over Teldin's head. Ballista bolt, probably, directed at the knot of officers on the forecastle. Aelfred and the others separated, spreading themselves out and eliminating the close grouping of people that must be an attractive target for the deathspider's gunners. A roar burst from the throats of the neogi vessel's crew members as they charged across the upper surface of the spidership's bridge. The umber hulks who had been among them were now behind them, urging them on, forcing them forward. The hammership's crew was still firing, and the arrows and bolts tore into the front ranks. Teldin saw a man stop, howling in pain, a longbow arrow protruding from his chest. The man threw his weapon down and tried to turn back, to escape the carnage. He tried to force his way through the pack of attackers, back toward the relative safety of the deathspider. For a moment the charge wavered, its momentum broken, then an umber hulk pressed forward and lashed out with an iron-hard claw. The wounded man shrieked again, louder, and his torn and twitching body plunged off the ship and into the darkness, spewing blood. Teldin turned away.
This object lesson wasn't lost on the other attackers. They rushed forward once more, with even more vigor.
Aelfred had been right in his analysis. The bridge section of the deathspider was narrow, which meant that not all the attackers could advance at once. They came forward in waves, full into the devastating fire of the hammership's crew. Men rushed forward, under the urging of the umber hulks… and they died. "We're holding them," Aelfred muttered.
But the situation couldn't last for long. Some of the umber hulks forced their way to the front of the attacking group, knocking humans aside like dolls, tumbling unfortunates over the side of the vessel into space. The Probe's defenders kept firing, but their murderous barrage couldn't stop the armored monsters' advance. Arrows glanced harmlessly off the creatures' shells; bolts lodged in plates of natural armor, but didn't penetrate. The monstrosities continued their approach across the deathspider's bridge.
"Vallus!" Aelfred shouted.
The elf was already weaving the power of another spell. He extended one hand, fingers outspread, toward the attacking monsters. An arrow seemed to spring from the tips of his fingers, driving deep into the chest of the leading hulk. It bellowed its agony, tearing at its own flesh as if to pluck out the arrow, then collapsed to the deck.
Sylvie had joined the fray as well. In response to her incantation, a dozen or more rubbery, black tentacles burst from the spidership's hull and wrapped themselves around the legs and torsos of the advancing hulks. Some of the creatures quickly tore the tentacles away; others weren't so lucky. Teldin watched in mixed awe and horror as several of the tentacles tightened around their victims, immobilizing them, and started to crush their hard carapaces. One umber hulk lurched back, one arm virtually torn away, and fell into the darkness. Another collapsed where it stood, its head a shattered ruin.
Mighty though it was, the magical assault wasn't enough to stop the attack. Haifa dozen hulks still survived, though most of those were wounded to one degree or another. As the mages paused to prepare new spells, the attackers lumbered forward. With rattling barks of triumph, the creatures reached the hammership's rail and swung their massive bodies over. Still being forced along by the remaining hulks, the human slaves followed the gruesome shock troops. The second phase of the defense of the Probe had begun.
The main deck was a pandemonium of brawling figures. Packs of Probe crewmen harried individual umber hulks, striking at the monsters' backs and flanks, desperately struggling to stay out of reach of the creatures' rending claws. Others fought in knots, or one on one, against the human and demihuman attackers from the deathspider. The air was filled with screams of rage and agony and grunts of exertion, punctuated by the umber hulks' barking cries. Above all was the clash and skirl of steel on steel.
Sweor Tobregdan, Aelfred's second mate, bellowed orders from the sterncastle, trying to direct the defense. If there was any plan to the fight, however, Teldin couldn't see it. People fought where they had to, or where an opportunity presented itself. This wasn't organized warfare, with its lines of offense and defense, coordinated sorties, and countercharges. This was more like a barroom brawl: no order, no central command, and no quarter asked or given.
The second mate must have seen the futility of yelling orders that nobody could hear, because he leaped down the ladder to the main deck and threw himself into the fray. Almost instantly, four of the deathspider's human crewmen sprang at him, and he went down under them.
"Sweor!" Aelfred yelled. He made to leap into the midst of the fray and somehow cut his way to where his friend needed him, but Bubbo's hand landed heavily on his shoulder. For a moment, the big warrior fought-vainly-to escape the grip of the even bigger weapons master. Then reason quieted Aelfred's anger. He nodded his thanks to Bubbo.
Sweor needed no help, as it turned out. An instant later, he reappeared, his clothing and blade drenched with blood-not his. own-leaving his erstwhile adversaries motionless on the deck.
Another spell split the air. A fan of seven shimmering multicolored rays lashed from Vallus's outstretched hands and struck two umber hulks on the deck below. One fell instantly lifeless, a huge, smoking rent torn in the armor of its chest. He other screamed its agony, flailing about wildly with an arm now blackened and twisted and missing perhaps half of its length. The Probe crewmen who faced
the beast seized the opportunity. Two lunged in on its other flank and buried their swords hilt-deep in the creature's abdomen. The hulk lashed out with its good arm, striking one of its attackers with back-breaking force, but a crewman on the other side crouched low and swung his axe at the monster's ankle. It connected and, with another ear-splitting shriek, the creature crashed to the deck. Its assailants were on it at once.
Teldin didn't see the creature's death. A clash of steel on steel from close by drew his attention. Some of the attackers were trying to reach the forecastle, he saw at once. Two were trying to climb the starboard ladder from the main deck. Liono was holding them off, and they hadn't yet reached the forecastle deck itself, but their swordwork was good enough-even on the ladder-that the aged tactician was unable to kill them. Other attackers were swarming up the port ladder, and Bubbo was lumbering over to deal with them. Teldin hefted Gendi's short sword and felt the tension of feat in the tendons of his forearm.
With no warning, a spear hissed past Teldin's ear and drove, quivering, into the side of the forward turret. Another slammed into Liono's ribs, transfixing his thin body. The tactician fell silently. Teldin looked around wildly for the new attackers.
The assault was coming from a totally new direction. Some of the deathspider's crew had managed to clamber over onto the lobe that extended from the starboard side of the Probe's hull-in fact, onto the metalwork that formed the roof of the officer's saloon. Teldin estimated maybe a dozen men, being herded forward by another umber hulk.
"Starboard side forward!" Teldin bellowed at the top of his lungs. He pointed toward the new danger.
It was Sylvie who reacted first. She spun and again hissed syllables of power. A chunk of metal-braced wood from the shattered ballista lifted from the deck and was hurled with inhuman force into the new group of attackers. Several fell, screaming, but the others had reached the forecastle and were now in the partial shelter of the forward turret. Aelfred and Sylvie hurried forward to engage them. Teldin moved to follow his friends.
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